Chapter 1 - WHO WOULD BELIEVE YOU?Lila Prescott had been crying for nearly five minutes before Miles heard her from the second floor.
At first, he tried to ignore it.
Not because he did not care.
Because Marissa Keane had told him repeatedly that ten-year-old boys had no business interfering with toddlers.
“She’s two,” Marissa always said. “Two-year-olds cry. Stop being dramatic.”
But Miles knew his sister’s different cries.
There was the angry cry when someone took away her stuffed rabbit.
The tired cry that started with whining and ended with her rubbing both eyes.
The frustrated cry when her little fingers could not fit wooden blocks together.
And then there was this one.
Fear.
Miles dropped the model airplane he had been building and ran.
The Prescott mansion was large enough that running from the family room upstairs to the dining room downstairs felt like crossing a hotel. His sneakers struck polished hardwood, then marble, as he rounded the staircase.
Lila’s crying became louder.
“Stay still!”
Marissa’s voice.
Then:
“EAT!”
Miles stopped at the dining-room entrance.
Lila sat strapped into her pale upholstered high chair beside the long walnut table.
Her soft brown hair stuck to her wet cheeks.
Marissa stood over her with a bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other.
Lila turned away.
Marissa placed her free hand behind the toddler’s head and forced her face back toward the spoon.
Miles saw red.
“STOP!”
Marissa looked up.
Miles rushed across the room.
“Let go of her!”
“Stay out of this.”
Lila reached both arms toward her brother.
“Mii!”
Miles pushed Marissa once.
He did not hit her.
He did not mean to knock her down.
But Marissa had been leaning forward.
She lost her balance and landed hard in a seated position on the rug.
The bowl tipped.
Food splashed across the table leg.
For half a second everyone froze.
Then Miles moved beside Lila and wrapped both arms around her as far as the high chair allowed.
“Don’t touch my sister!”
Marissa stared up at him.
Her face did not show embarrassment.
It showed fury.
Miles pointed toward the hallway.
“I’m telling Mom everything you’ve done!”
Marissa slowly stood.
She smoothed the front of her dark-gray uniform.
Then she smiled.
That smile frightened Miles more than anger would have.
“You think your parents would believe…”
She took one step closer.
“…a little kid like you?”
Miles tightened his arms around Lila.
“They will.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Marissa tilted her head.
“Your mother thinks I’m wonderful.”
Miles swallowed.
“My dad—”
“Your father barely knows what happens in this house.”
“He knows me.”
“So?”
Marissa leaned slightly closer.
“You push an employee to the floor, and you think you’re the victim?”
“You were hurting her!”
“Was I?”
Lila sobbed into Miles’s shoulder.
Marissa pointed toward the toddler.
“She cries whenever she doesn’t get what she wants.”
“That’s not true.”
“Who do you think they’ll believe?”
Miles hated that his eyes suddenly burned.
Marissa saw it.
Her smile widened.
Then a woman’s voice came from behind her.
“What…”
Everything stopped.
“…did you just say?”
Marissa’s face changed instantly.
Vivian Prescott stood in the doorway.
Sixty-eight years old.
Silver hair perfectly arranged.
Cream suit immaculate.
Pearl earrings catching the afternoon light.
She did not raise her voice.
She did not need to.
The Prescott family had spent decades learning that when Vivian became quieter, everyone else should become silent.
Marissa turned slowly.
“Mrs. Prescott.”
Vivian’s expression gave nothing away.
Marissa dropped to her knees.
“Ma’am, thank God you’re here.”
Miles stared.
Marissa pointed at him.
“It was him.”
Miles blinked.
“What?”
“He became violent.”
“That’s a lie!”
“Miles,” Vivian said.
Only his name.
He went silent.
Marissa continued rapidly.
“He was frightening Lila. I tried to calm her down, and he pushed me.”
“She was forcing food into Lila’s mouth!”
“I was feeding her.”
“You held her head!”
Marissa looked horrified.
“I would never.”
Miles stared at her.
He had never seen someone lie so easily.
Vivian’s eyes moved to the overturned bowl.
Then Marissa.
Then Miles.
Then Lila, still clinging desperately to her brother.
Vivian walked toward them.
Miles expected her to take Lila away.
Instead she stopped beside the high chair.
“Lila.”
The toddler looked up.
Her lower lip trembled.
Vivian reached one hand toward her.
Lila accepted it.
Then Vivian looked at Miles.
“Did you push Mrs. Keane?”
Miles swallowed.
Marissa watched him.
He knew the answer that would help him.
No.
He knew the truth.
“Yes.”
Marissa exhaled with satisfaction.
Vivian’s expression did not change.
“Why?”
“Because she wouldn’t let go of Lila.”
Marissa shook her head.
“This is exactly what I mean. He’s been difficult for weeks.”
Miles looked at his grandmother.
“Grandma, please.”
Vivian’s eyes met his.
For one terrible second, Miles remembered Marissa’s question.
Who would believe you?
Vivian turned toward the doorway.
“Call Ethan and Caroline.”
Marissa’s mouth twitched with relief.
Miles’s stomach dropped.
Vivian added:
May you like
“They’re coming home.”
And for the first time since entering the room, Miles became afraid that Marissa had been right.
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