Chapter 1 - The Hands Beneath the Linen
“Put your hands down, Lucy.”
Brielle Ashton said it with a smile.
As though reminding a child to use a napkin.
Lucy looked at me.
Her lower lip trembled.
Then she tucked both hands beneath the white tablecloth.
I stood beside her chair, holding the silver bread basket.
Across the dining room, Adrian Marzano spoke with a city judge.
Candles flickered between floral centerpieces.
A photographer waited by the marble hearth.
Nobody else had noticed.
Brielle leaned toward me.
Her diamond earrings brushed her neck.
“If she starts doing that again, take her upstairs. We don’t need a spectacle
tonight.”
“She was asking me a question, ma'am.”
“She can ask tomorrow.”
Lucy was twelve years old.
Her mother had died three years earlier of leukemia.
Her younger brother, Owen, was supposedly at their aunt’s country house.
Tonight, Lucy was the only child at the table.
Her plate was untouched.
My name is Rachel Bennett.
I was thirty-two.
I had worked in Adrian Marzano’s Philadelphia mansion for seven months.
My younger brother had been born deaf.
American Sign Language was my second native tongue.
I learned it at a worn kitchen table long before I ever wore a uniform.
Brielle knew that.
She also knew I had a seven-year-old daughter named Maya.
And a rent check due on Monday.
Brielle had already cut two of my shifts last week.
I couldn’t afford to lose another.
I set the bread basket down.
I bent toward Lucy.
“What did you want to ask?” I signed beneath the edge of the mahogany.
Lucy glanced at Brielle.
Then at her father across the room.
Her fingers moved in tiny, frantic gestures.
“Is tomorrow my last day living here?”
My breath caught.
“Who told you that?” I signed back.
Lucy looked at the woman wearing the three-carat diamond.
Brielle reached past me and smoothed Lucy’s collar.
Her nails dug into the girl's shoulder.
“Rachel. Clear the plates.”
I didn't move.
Lucy’s hands moved again.
“I packed my pajamas. But I don't know if I can take Mom’s blanket.”
Brielle’s smile vanished.
Her eyes turned to ice.
“I gave you an instruction, maid.”
Three guests turned their heads.
I ignored her.
I looked straight at Adrian Marzano.
“Sir. Lucy needs to speak with you.”
Brielle laughed, light and melodic.
“She’s exhausted, Adrian. Rachel keeps riling her up.”
Adrian set his wineglass down.
He was thirty-eight.
Broad shoulders.
Eyes like gray slate.
He controlled every shipping yard from Philadelphia to Baltimore.
He was a man who terrified senators.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Adrian asked.
Lucy kept her hands hidden in her lap.
She looked at Brielle.
She looked at the carpet.
She shook her head.
“Nothing.”
Brielle touched Adrian’s bicep.
“I’ll have security walk her up to bed.”
I turned Lucy’s chair slightly.
Just enough so she could see her father directly.
“Tell him,” I signed clearly.
Brielle stepped between us, blocking my view.
“You're hired help. Stop interfering with this family.”
Adrian stood up.
The banquet table went completely still.
“Step aside, Brielle.”
His voice was a quiet razor.
Brielle blinked.
She stepped back.
Adrian crossed the floor and dropped to both knees beside Lucy’s chair.
He didn't care about his custom tuxedo pants on the floor.
He lifted his large, scarred hands where his daughter could see them.
“Tell me,” he signed.
Lucy swallowed hard.
“I’ll be good at the new school,” she signed slowly.
Adrian’s slate eyes narrowed.
“What new school?”
“The one where I have to sleep.”
Adrian went perfectly still.
“Who said you were leaving?”
Tears spilled down Lucy’s cheeks.
“She said you needed a fresh start.”
Lucy glanced at Brielle.
“She said my hands remind you too much of Mom.”
A woman at the end of the table dropped her fork.
It clattered against the porcelain.
Adrian took a slow, heavy breath.
“You don't have to stop reminding me of your mother.”
Lucy wiped her nose with her sleeve.
“Even after the wedding?”
“Especially after the wedding.”
She stared at him, searching his face.
Then she signed the question that made Adrian’s head bow.
“Do you still want me here?”
For three seconds, Adrian couldn't move.
When he raised his hands, his fingers trembled.
“You never have to hide from me.”
Lucy leaned forward and buried her face into his neck.
Adrian pulled her tight against his chest.
His eyes closed.
Brielle stood stiffly beside them.
Her socialite smile was plastered across her pale face.
“Adrian, she misunderstood. Northfield is a prestigious boarding academy—”
“She has a school,” Adrian cut her off, rising slowly to his feet.
“She has her friends. They were here on Saturday.”
“I was trying to help,” Brielle stammered.
“Then why wasn’t I informed?”
“We agreed to look at options—”
“We agreed to visit a day program in July.”
Adrian looked down at her.
“Who booked a car?”
Brielle went silent.
Lucy tugged on Adrian’s sleeve.
He knelt back down instantly.
“You are staying here,” he signed with absolute certainty. “You and Owen. This
is your home.”
Lucy’s hands hesitated.
She looked at Brielle with raw dread.
“Dad…”
Adrian leaned closer.
“What is it?”
Lucy’s fingers spelled the words with trembling speed:
“Owen isn't at Aunt Clara’s house.”
Adrian stopped breathing.
“Where is he?”
May you like
Lucy signed:
“Brielle put him in a van for Northfield four hours ago.”
