Chapter 4 - THE EMPTY BEDROOMRosa slept badly at her sister Elena’s apartment.
Not because the guest room was uncomfortable.
Because every time she closed her eyes, she heard Blake’s voice.
She’s only the maid.
Words could be dismissed as childish cruelty.
But Rosa knew children borrowed their language.
Especially language spoken with confidence.
At seven the next morning, her phone showed eleven missed calls.
Four from Malcolm.
Two from Helen Mercer, Malcolm’s older sister.
Three from unknown numbers.
One from the Sterling house.
And one from Blake.
There was no voicemail.
Rosa turned the phone face down.
Elena entered carrying coffee.
“You don’t have to go back.”
“I know.”
“I mean ever.”
Rosa nodded.
Elena sat beside her.
“You stayed too long.”
“I know.”
“You always say that after people hurt you.”
Rosa looked at her.
“What?”
“I know.”
Rosa almost laughed.
Instead, she accepted the coffee.
Across town, Malcolm stood in the kitchen and realized he did not know where the cereal was.
The absurdity of it embarrassed him.
Blake sat at the island scrolling through his tablet.
Colette had not come downstairs.
“Where does Rosa keep the cereal?” Malcolm asked.
Blake shrugged.
“Pantry.”
“Where in the pantry?”
“I don’t know.”
Malcolm opened cabinets until he found it.
Then milk.
Then bowls.
Blake watched him.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Is Rosa coming back today?”
“No.”
“Tomorrow?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mom said she’s being dramatic.”
Malcolm set the cereal box down harder than necessary.
“Your mother is wrong.”
Blake frowned.
“About Rosa?”
“Yes.”
“So Rosa can just leave?”
“She isn’t a prisoner, Blake.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
The boy’s face tightened.
Malcolm immediately regretted the tone.
He sat across from him.
“Why did you hit her?”
Blake stared at the cereal.
“I told you.”
“No. You told me you did it because you liked it.”
The boy shrugged.
“Why did you think you were allowed?”
Blake became uncomfortable.
“I don’t know.”
“Try.”
Silence.
Malcolm waited.
Eventually Blake said, “She works here.”
“So?”
“Mom says employees have to listen.”
“Listen to what?”
“Us.”
“Why?”
“Because we pay them.”
Malcolm felt sick.
“And if they don’t?”
“They can get another job.”
“Who told you that?”
Blake looked toward the staircase.
Malcolm followed his eyes.
There it was again.
Colette.
“Your mother?”
Blake pushed cereal around with his spoon.
“Sometimes.”
“What exactly does she say?”
“Dad, I don’t remember.”
“You remember enough to call Rosa ‘only the maid.’”
Blake’s eyes filled with annoyance.
“Why are you making this a huge thing?”
Because your mother taught you to think another human being mattered less.
Malcolm almost said it.
Instead he asked, “Do you think Rosa matters less than you?”
Blake hesitated.
That hesitation frightened him more than a yes.
“I don’t know.”
Malcolm leaned back.
Ten years old.
Old enough to understand right from wrong.
Young enough that the poison could still be mistaken for inheritance.
“Blake, Rosa has taken care of you for years.”
“That’s her job.”
“Who told you that means you don’t owe her basic respect?”
Blake said nothing.
Then, unexpectedly:
“Mom says people like Rosa work for people like us.”
Malcolm’s throat tightened.
“What does ‘people like us’ mean?”
“We have money.”
“And?”
Blake shrugged.
“That means we’re in charge.”
Malcolm sat completely still.
The front doorbell rang.
Blake jumped off the stool.
“I’ll get it.”
“No. Sit.”
Malcolm opened the door himself.
A grocery delivery driver stood outside carrying several bags.
“Morning, sir.”
Malcolm took them.
“Thank you.”
The driver smiled.
“No problem.”
As Malcolm turned, he saw Blake watching.
Something about the boy’s expression bothered him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
Blake looked down.
“Mom says you don’t have to thank delivery people every time.”
Malcolm stared at him.
“Why?”
“She says they’re being paid.”
Malcolm placed the groceries on the counter.
Then he looked around his enormous kitchen.
At the marble.
The brass fixtures.
The pantry somebody else kept stocked.
The dishes somebody else washed.
The house that seemed to function magically because people such as Rosa made its machinery invisible.
He had always considered himself polite.
He tipped generously.
Said thank you.
Supported charities.
None of that meant he had paid attention.
His phone rang.
Nathan.
Malcolm answered.
“I ran the preliminary search,” Nathan said.
“And?”
“Those former-employee payments total more than I expected.”
“How much?”
“Still calculating.”
“Who authorized them?”
“That’s what worries me.”
Malcolm walked away from Blake.
“Tell me.”
“Some appear under Colette’s household credentials.”
Malcolm stopped.
“Some?”
“Others came through general family-office approvals.”
“Mine?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Malcolm’s voice dropped.
“I didn’t approve payments to Denise Walker after she left.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because one authorization occurred while you were in London.”
Malcolm remembered the trip.
An acquisition.
Five days.
He had barely slept.
“Could I have signed remotely?”
“You could have.”
“But?”
Nathan hesitated.
“The approval came from your home IP address.”
Malcolm looked toward the staircase.
His bedroom was at the top.
Colette’s office was beside it.
“Nathan.”
“Yes?”
“Do not contact Colette.”
Another pause.
“All right.”
“And don’t change anything yet.”
“Understood.”
Malcolm ended the call.
Blake was standing behind him.
He had heard only part of the conversation.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Is Mom in trouble?”
Malcolm looked at his son.
“I don’t know.”
Blake thought for a moment.
Then said something that made Malcolm’s skin go cold.
“If Rosa says something bad about Mom, I’m not supposed to believe her.”
Malcolm stared.
“Who told you that?”
Blake looked confused by the question.
“Mom.”
“When?”
“A while ago.”
“Why would Rosa say something bad about your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“What exactly did she tell you?”
Blake shrugged.
“She said sometimes employees get jealous. And if Rosa ever says Mom did something wrong, she’s probably trying to cause trouble.”
Malcolm said nothing.
Blake returned to his cereal.
But Malcolm could suddenly see the shape of something much darker than snobbery.
May you like
Colette had not only taught Blake to look down on Rosa.
She had taught him, in advance, not to believe her.
Related Stories
