“Mr. Harrington?” she asked.
Nate set the boundaries immediately. “You clean. You leave. No questions. No conversations. And no sympathy.”
Isabella met his gaze without flinching. “That works for me.”
Something about her calm unsettled him.
For weeks, the arrangement held. She arrived before sunrise and left before dusk shadows stretched long across the hardwood floors.
What Nate didn’t know—because Isabella feared losing the job—was that she had a daughter.
The Child Behind the Door
Sofia was five. Curious. Observant. Too perceptive for her own good.
When her preschool closed unexpectedly for renovations, Isabella had no one else to rely on.
“You stay quiet,” Isabella whispered that first morning, adjusting Sofia’s tiny backpack. “You draw, you play, but you don’t leave the room.”
“Is he scary?” Sofia asked.
Isabella hesitated. “He’s not scary. He’s just very sad.”
For several days, Sofia followed instructions perfectly, coloring on the floor, humming softly. But curiosity slips through rules.
