Chapter 7 - THE BOY WHO STOOD GUARDMiles had developed routines nobody understood.
He knew when Lila usually woke from naps.
He knew which spoon she preferred.
He knew she hated peas but liked sweet potatoes.
He knew that when she touched her left ear she was tired.
He knew where Marissa kept the cleaning supplies and which cabinet she used when angry because Miles had once hidden there while she yelled at Dana.
He knew too much.
Vivian recognized that.
Children noticed what adults normalized.
She began spending afternoons at Foxmere House without announcing it.
One day she sat in the conservatory reading while Dana fed Lila.
Miles came in twice.
The first time he pretended to need water.
The second he asked whether Dana needed help.
Vivian watched.
When Dana finished, Miles relaxed.
Vivian called him over.
“You don’t trust adults with Lila.”
Miles frowned.
“I trust Dana.”
“You checked twice.”
He shrugged.
Vivian waited.
Miles eventually said:
“I check everybody now.”
“Why?”
“Because people act different when parents leave.”
Vivian felt the words.
Not just Marissa.
People.
The category had expanded.
Vivian closed her book.
“When I was your age, I had a governess named Mrs. Pike.”
Miles sat.
“Was she mean?”
“Terrifying.”
“What did she do?”
“She believed children should never interrupt adults.”
“That sounds normal.”
“She once made me stand in a hallway for four hours because I asked where my father was.”
Miles stared.
“What did your mom do?”
“My mother told me Mrs. Pike knew what was best.”
“Did she?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“When I was eleven, my father came home early and found me standing outside the library.”
Miles looked at her.
“He believed you?”
“He asked questions.”
Vivian paused.
“Then he fired Mrs. Pike.”
Miles seemed surprised.
“So you know.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you just believe me right away?”
Vivian appreciated the directness.
“Because I wanted to be certain I was seeing you and not my own childhood.”
Miles thought about that.
“Adults do that a lot.”
“What?”
“Make stuff about themselves.”
Vivian almost smiled.
“Yes.”
Miles looked toward the nursery.
“Marissa hated when I checked on Lila.”
“What did she say?”
“That I was acting like her mother.”
“Anything else?”
“She said boys who don’t mind their own business get punished.”
Vivian’s fingers tightened on the armrest.
“What punishment?”
“Mostly taking my phone.”
“Mostly?”
Miles hesitated.
“She locked the game room once.”
“With you inside?”
“No. Lila.”
Vivian became completely still.
“For how long?”
“Maybe ten minutes.”
“Why?”
“She kept throwing toys.”
“Did Marissa remain in the room?”
“No.”
“Where were you?”
“Outside.”
Miles looked down.
“I found another door.”
Vivian closed her eyes.
She imagined a two-year-old alone in a room, crying.
She imagined Miles finding a servants’ corridor entrance because he could not bear it.
“Did you enter?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
“Held her.”
“And Marissa?”
“She got mad.”
“What did she say?”
Miles answered quietly.
“She said if I kept interfering, she’d make sure I got sent away.”
Vivian stood.
“Show me the game room.”
They went upstairs.
Miles showed her the side door.
Then the lock.
Vivian inspected it.
An interior latch could be engaged from the hallway.
There was no safety reason to use it on a toddler.
She called Colin.
“When was this lock installed?”
“Two months ago.”
“By whom?”
He checked invoices.
The request had come from Marissa.
Approved electronically.
By Graham.
Vivian’s face became unreadable.
That evening she called Graham.
“How are your investments?”
He laughed.
“What kind of question is that?”
“A financial one.”
“Fine.”
“You are certain?”
“Mother, if this is about money—”
“It is always about money when people become careless.”
Graham went quiet.
Vivian continued:
“Dinner Sunday.”
“I’m busy.”
“Cancel it.”
He knew better than to refuse twice.
“All right.”
After she hung up, Vivian opened a file her family attorney had sent that morning.
Graham Prescott owed more than two million dollars across private investment loans.
Some were already in default.
And suddenly Vivian had a motive.
May you like
Not the whole motive.
But enough to keep digging.
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