I woke up in the hospital and found a man in a charcoal suit sitting beside my bed with his head bowed over his clasped hands. When I asked politely, “Excuse me, sir, am I supposed to interview for the nanny position at your house today?” he looked up so fast that the color drained from his face.
Chapter 2
The next morning I started researching myself.
Lancaster Group owned hotels, office towers, technology investments, and commercial properties throughout the Northeast. Vincent Hayes was listed as chief executive officer, but an old filing contained two important words beside his title.
Acting CEO.
I searched deeper.
Eventually I found the law firm that had handled my parents’ estate.
Pendleton & Ross.
At breakfast I served scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee.
“I need groceries,” I announced.
Willow smiled.
“Don’t get lost.”
“I have a phone.”
Vincent ignored me.
I took a taxi to Manhattan.
Arthur Pendleton, the senior partner, came personally into the lobby when the receptionist told him my name.
He was in his late sixties, silver-haired, conservative, and visibly shaken.
“Sophia?”
“That seems to be me.”
“My God.”
He took me upstairs and locked his office door.
“Vincent told us you were in Switzerland.”
I blinked.
“Doing what?”
“Receiving psychiatric treatment after the accident.”
I leaned back.
“That is much more glamorous than reality. I’ve been sleeping in the nanny’s room.”
Arthur stared at me.
Twenty minutes later, I had told him everything.
When I finished, he removed his glasses.
“Your parents created an extremely protective trust.”
“So I didn’t give Vincent everything?”
“No.”
I nearly hugged him.
“You are the sole beneficiary of the Lancaster Family Trust. Vincent cannot touch the principal without your notarized approval. Three years ago you gave him proxy voting authority because you wanted to stay home with Ethan.”
“I gave him control of my company so I could make lunches?”
Arthur hesitated.
“You were devoted to your family.”
“You mean stupid.”
“I was trying to be diplomatic.”
“Don’t.”
His mouth twitched.
“Then yes. Financially speaking, you were far too trusting.”
I laughed for the first time in days.
Arthur opened another folder.
“There’s more.”
Vincent had been requesting access to the protected portion of my trust.
Lancaster Group had taken losses on a development project.
Several million dollars were unaccounted for.
Arthur had refused to release more money without my signature.
“Vincent told the board you were emotionally unstable,” he said.
Everything suddenly fit.
Willow living in my house.
The photographs.
Vincent’s contempt.
The constant accusations that I was pretending.
They did not need me healthy.
They needed me insecure.
Dependent.
Desperate enough for Vincent’s affection to sign whatever he put in front of me.
My amnesia had ruined the arrangement.
I wasn’t jealous of Willow because I didn’t remember loving Vincent.
I wasn’t terrified of losing my marriage because I didn’t remember wanting it.
I wasn’t begging.
I wasn’t crying.
Their weapons had stopped working because I had forgotten where the wounds were.
“How quickly can I revoke his proxy?” I asked.
Arthur’s expression became very calm.
“Twenty-four hours.”
“Do it.”
“Sophia—”
“Freeze executive spending. Keep payroll running. No employee should suffer because of this. But stop capital transfers, bonuses, corporate credit cards, everything he can use to move money.”
Arthur smiled.
“Your father would be pleased.”
“I don’t remember my father.”
“He was stubborn.”
“Good.”
“So are you.”
I stood.
“Even better.”
When I returned home carrying groceries, I heard voices in the upstairs study.
Willow was furious.
“My card was declined.”
“Keep your voice down,” Vincent said.
“I was standing in Hermès when it happened.”
“Arthur is reviewing the accounts.”
“You promised you’d have control after her accident.”
Silence.
Then Vincent spoke.
“She’ll break.”
My hand tightened around the stair rail.
Willow laughed bitterly.
“She doesn’t even care that I’m here anymore. Do you know how boring that is? I spent years making her jealous. Now I might as well be furniture.”
“She is pretending.”
“Why?”
“To punish me.”
Vincent sounded absolutely certain.
“Sophia has been obsessed with me for years. She can’t stop.”
I almost admired the ego required to believe that.
Then Willow mentioned Ethan.
“He keeps bothering me.”
“He’s seven.”
“I’m not his babysitter, Vincent. I only played perfect stepmother because watching Sophia fall apart was half the fun.”
Something inside me changed.
Until then, the whole situation had been almost absurd.
A husband I didn’t remember loving.
A mistress I didn’t remember hating.
A fortune I had forgotten owning.
But Ethan was real.
A little boy had been manipulated into believing his mother was unstable while the adults around him competed for money.
That was no longer funny.
I went downstairs without making a sound.
That evening Ethan struggled with a complicated Lego car.
“Willow, help me.”
She barely looked up from her phone.
“Push harder.”
“It won’t fit.”
“Then do something else.”
He threw the toy against the wall.
Pieces scattered.
He began crying.
I sat on the rug several feet away.
“You put the blue connector in the wrong hole.”
He glared at me.
“You don’t know.”
“Possibly.”
I picked up the piece.
“But this goes here.”
I moved it one space over.
The wheel clicked into place.
I rolled the car toward him.
He caught it.
It worked.
His expression softened for half a second.
Then he remembered he was supposed to dislike me.
I stood.
“Don’t throw things when you’re angry. It doesn’t fix anything.”
He looked down.
“Sorry.”
“Good start.”
I walked away.
I could feel him watching me.
Two days later Arthur called.
Everything was ready.
Conveniently, Lancaster Group’s annual anniversary gala was that Saturday.
Vincent never told me.
At four that afternoon stylists arrived for Willow.
By seven she descended the staircase wearing an emerald gown.
Vincent waited below in a tuxedo.
He looked at her the way husbands in old movies looked at their wives before a ballroom scene.
“You look incredible.”
I stood nearby holding a dust cloth.
“Big night?”
Vincent gave me a dismissive glance.
“Corporate event.”
“Sounds exciting.”
“Don’t wait up.”
“I won’t.”
They left in his Maserati.
I waited until the taillights disappeared.
Then I went upstairs.
Arthur had given me the security code to the safe in the master dressing room.
Inside I found jewelry that had belonged to my mother.
Beneath it hung a midnight-blue gown.
I showered.
Pinned up my hair.
Put on lipstick.
Then fastened a sapphire necklace around my throat.
When I looked in the mirror, I did not recognize the woman staring back.
That seemed fitting.
Ethan was watching television downstairs.
He turned when he heard my heels.
His mouth fell open.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“You look different.”
“I quit the nanny job.”
For the first time, he smiled at me.
“Really?”
“Terrible benefits.”
He giggled.
I crouched beside him.
“Mrs. Gable is staying with you tonight. There’s pizza coming.”
“Pepperoni?”
“The irresponsible kind.”
He smiled wider.
Then I became serious.
“Ethan, things may change around here soon.”
His smile faded.
“Are you leaving?”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
“No, I am not.”
He studied my face.
“Promise?”
I looked directly into his eyes.
“Promise.”
Arthur’s car waited outside.
When I climbed in, he handed me a leather folder.
“Proxy revoked. Accounts frozen. Preliminary audit underway. Divorce petition ready.”
I took a breath.
“Then let’s go to my party.”
