Chapter 2 - THREE WEEKS EARLIER
Three weeks earlier, Naomi Reyes was almost invisible. At twenty-nine, she had spent eleven months working at Whitmore House. She changed linens before sunrise, polished silver after dinner, and moved through the mansion so quietly that most guests forgot she was there. She liked it that way.
Peace had become precious. Eight years in private protection had taught Naomi how quickly ordinary rooms could become dangerous. She had guarded executives, witnesses and frightened families. She knew when a man was pretending not to reach for a weapon.
Then came Philadelphia. A winter assignment. A hotel corridor. One gunshot too many.
The girlâs father died before the ambulance arrived. Everyone told Naomi she had done everything right. Her body believed them. Her mind did not.
At Whitmore House, nobody needed her to be dangerous. Then Ethan Whitmore began coming into the kitchen after midnight. The first time, he asked for coffee. Naomi looked at the clock.
âItâs midnight.â âI know.â âYouâll be awake until sunrise.â âI probably will be anyway.â She slid a mug of chamomile tea toward him. After that, it became a habit. He came downstairs after long board meetings and talked while Naomi finished the kitchen. He never flirted.
Neither did she. Naomi listened. One night he said, âYou never ask me for anything.â âThatâs because youâre not my ATM.â He laughed harder than the joke deserved. Neither of them noticed Vanessa standing in the dark hallway.
She watched Ethan smiling. Then she looked at Naomi. It was calculation. The next morning, Naomi found a broken crystal glass on the bedroom floor.
May you like
Vanessa stood nearby. âClean it.â Naomi reached for the broom. Vanessa added, âAnd be careful. Some things in this house are expensive.â Naomi looked at her.
Vanessa smiled. âPeople can be replaced.â
