Chapter 2 - The Rule No One Explained.
Elena barely slept that night because she had no idea what rule Mrs. Vale meant.
No handbook had mentioned a promise to Adrian's late wife.
No training sheet had said that dancing, music, or laughter was forbidden.
At seven the next morning, Elena found Mrs. Vale waiting beside the kitchen island with two cups of untouched coffee.
Mrs. Vale was in her late fifties, always perfectly dressed, and carried herself like the house belonged to order rather than to people.
“You will not enter the nursery again unless I assign you there,” she said.
Elena stared at her.
“Mr. Curto told me to continue.”
“Mr. Curto was emotional.”
“He looked happy.”
Mrs. Vale's expression sharpened.
“Those are not the same thing.”
Elena removed her apron and folded it across the back of a chair.
“What rule did I break?”
Mrs. Vale looked toward the doorway before answering.
“Mrs. Curto did not want strangers turning the girls into a performance.”
“I wasn't making them perform.”
“You were encouraging excitement at bedtime.”
“They laughed.”
Mrs. Vale's eyes hardened.
“They have routines for a reason.”
Elena wanted to argue, but Adrian entered before she could.
He wore gray trousers and a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, and he looked as though he had not slept either.
“Miss Brooks, my office.”
Mrs. Vale's mouth formed the smallest satisfied line.
Elena followed Adrian down the hall.
His office was colder than the nursery, with dark shelves, precise stacks of paper, and no photographs except one turned facedown beside his computer.
Adrian closed the door.
“I need to ask you something, and I want a direct answer.”
Elena folded her hands.
“Of course.”
“Did anyone tell you to make the girls laugh?”
“No.”
“Did anyone tell you they had stopped?”
“No.”
He studied her closely.
Elena could feel suspicion returning to him with every second.
“Then why were you dancing?”
“Because they laughed when I moved.”
“That simple?”
“That simple.”
Adrian turned toward the window.
“They haven't laughed like that in eight months.”
Elena said nothing.
He continued before she could offer sympathy.
“My wife, Claire, died last winter after a sudden illness.”
His voice remained controlled, but his grip tightened on the back of a chair.
“The girls were eleven months old.”
Elena looked down.
“I'm sorry.”
“Everyone says that.”
He immediately seemed to regret the sharpness of the answer.
He exhaled.
“I don't mean that against you.”
Elena nodded once.
Adrian walked to the desk and lifted the facedown photograph.
It was the same woman from the nursery picture.
“Claire believed children needed calm, especially when they were tired.”
“That makes sense.”
“She also believed this house needed music.”
Elena looked up.
“That doesn't sound like what Mrs. Vale told me.”
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
“What exactly did she tell you?”
Elena repeated the words about strangers turning the girls into a performance.
Adrian frowned.
“Claire never said that to me.”
The first crack appeared in Mrs. Vale's version of the story.
Adrian picked up his phone.
Before he could call anyone, a small knock sounded at the office door.
Mrs. Vale entered without waiting.
“The girls are awake.”
Adrian looked at the clock.
“It's early.”
“They are asking for something.”
Elena felt a strange hope rise in her.
“What?”
Mrs. Vale's attention remained fixed on Adrian.
“They keep pointing toward the hall.”
Adrian stood.
All three walked upstairs.
Nora was standing in her crib when they entered the nursery.
Lily was beside her, gripping the white rail.
Both girls looked immediately at Elena.
Nora lifted one hand.
“Yena.”
Elena froze.
Adrian froze too.
It was the first time he had heard either child attempt her name.
Lily bounced once and copied her sister.
“Yena.”
Mrs. Vale stepped between Elena and the cribs.
“That is enough.”
Nora's face fell.
Adrian's voice became low.
“Move.”
Mrs. Vale slowly stepped aside.
Elena approached the twins.
She did not dance.
She simply raised one hand and gave them a tiny wave.
Both girls smiled.
Adrian watched the change with visible disbelief.
Mrs. Vale looked toward the dresser.
Her eyes settled on the old wooden music box beneath Claire's photograph.
For the first time, Elena noticed fear on the older woman's face.
Mrs. Vale crossed the room quickly and picked it up.
“That should not be here.”
Adrian looked at her.
“It has always been there.”
“No.”
Mrs. Vale hugged the music box against her chest.
“Your wife asked me to put it away.”
Adrian's expression became unreadable.
“When?”
Mrs. Vale hesitated one second too long.
Adrian saw it.
Elena saw it too.
“After she died,” Mrs. Vale answered.
Adrian's voice turned dangerously quiet, though he never raised it.
“My wife asked you something after she died?”
May you like
The room went still.
Mrs. Vale's face lost all color.
