The black iron gate opened with a low metallic groan. Inside, the garden was perfectly trimmed, flawless to the point of feeling unreal—more like a postcard than a place where people lived.
Marian tightened her grip on the strap of her backpack, smoothed her hair, and looked up at the tall glass windows. There was plenty of light inside, but no warmth. She had worked in large homes before, but never in one so heavy with silence.
As she crossed the threshold, a long hallway swallowed her steps. Oversized paintings lined the walls. Polished marble floors echoed softly beneath her shoes. Members of the staff nodded without really looking at her, offering brief greetings, as if speaking too much might break an unspoken rule.
Marian smiled anyway—out of habit, and out of self-protection.
Then Richard Navarro appeared.
Tall. Immaculate. His tailored suit fit him like armor. His eyes were sharp but distant, always focused on something just beyond the people in front of him.
“Good morning,” he said, without extending his hand.
It wasn’t rude. It was empty. As if courtesy were something he hadn’t practiced in a very long time.
He gestured toward the staircase.
Standing there were Ethan and Lily, eight-year-old twins, dressed identically, as though someone had tried to freeze them into the same image. Ethan stared at the floor. Lily crossed her arms tightly. Both carried the expression of children who had learned that showing emotion rarely changed anything.
“She’ll be your nanny,” Richard said flatly.
Marian bent slightly to their level and smiled, soft and patient.
“Hi. I’m Marian. What would you like for dinner tonight?”
Lily blinked slowly, as if the question were in a language she barely remembered.
“Nothing,” she said.
Ethan echoed the word without lifting his eyes.
Marian felt a sharp ache in her chest. She had heard stories of grief, of children who refused food, of silent rebellions. But this wasn’t stubbornness.
This was hunger that had nothing to do with food.
Richard watched her carefully, as if deciding whether she would crack under the weight of it all. Then he nodded and led her through the house, his voice neutral, the way someone guides guests through a museum.