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“You did?” She looks up at me, then narrows her eyes. “Don’t tell me it’s one of the nurses. That doesn’t count.”

“No, I met them at work,” I say. “They’re really nice people, and they’re fun to hang out with.”

She still looks concerned.

“If anything is bothering you, I want you to share it with me, okay?” she says.

“Who else am I going to share it with?” Before this conversation can get any heavier, I reach into my purse and pull out a book. “I got you something.”

She smiles at the worn copy of Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte—one of her all-time favorites. I settle into the chair beside her.

It feels like yesterday when she was the one reading me stories before bed.

I open the book to the first chapter. And almost instantly, I slip away from my life and into someone else’s.

I read the words out loud.

“There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further outdoor exercise was now out of the question.”

As I read the words, the bright morning sunshine of our life fades, replaced by a cold winter evening of nineteenth-century England.

We remain there until someone taps on my shoulder.

I glance up to see that it’s Tessa.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but visiting hours ended an hour ago,” she tells me.

I close the book and look at my grandmother. I squeeze her hand and kiss her goodbye.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” I promise.

“I want you to live your life, kiddo,” my grandmother tells me. “Don’t spend the rest of your life worrying about me. Go to the beach, get laid, party with your friends. Not necessarily in that order.”

“ Grandma ,” I say.

Tessa giggles from behind me.

“You’re too uptight, honey,” Grandma says. “You need to let your hair down and act your age once in a while.”

“Goodbye, Grandma.”

I exit the room and make my way out of the hospital.

The familiar fear creeps back into me as I cross the parking lot.

I don’t feel anyone’s eyes on me, but the paranoia still runs through my veins like it never left. My car key digs into my palm as I walk. When I reach my car, I spot the forgotten pumpkin pie and cupcakes in the back seat.

I take them to the staff break room, where I bump into Nurse Santos again.

“The famous pumpkin pie,” she says, her face instantly brightening when she sees the container. I place it on the table, then carve out agenerous slice of pie for her.

She takes a bite and moans.

I grin. “It’s good?”

“If someone told me that this was my last day on earth and I could have one more meal, I would ask for this,” she says.

“You don’t mean that,” I say.

“I’m not even joking, Emma,” she says. “I’m actually considering hiding this pie so I can have more of it later.”

“I’ll bring you more next time,” I say. “It’s the least I can doafter everything you guys have done for me.”

During those days when my grandmother was in a coma, the nurses and staff at this hospital were my only source of comfort. They checked up on me every day and made sure that I always had something to eat.

“Should I feel bad about having pie for breakfast?” Tessa asks.

“It has pumpkin in it,” I say. “It’s a superfood, basically.”

“You’re so right,” she says, helping herself to another bite before opening the cabinet to choose a coffee mug. “Coffee?”

“No, it’s okay. I should?—”

“I insist,” she says, pressing the button for a cappuccino on the coffee maker.

As the aroma of coffee fills the room, I realize I haven’t had anything to eat all day. Maybe that’s the reason I was feeling all paranoid earlier.

“You kind of scared me with what you said earlier,” she says. “Are you sure everything is okay?”

I take a long sip of the coffee. I feel my mood brightening already.

“Thank you for asking, but everything’s fine,” I say.

“Okay, but if there’s literally anything you want to talk about, I’m here for you,” she says.

I smile at her. “I know.”

By the time I leave the hospital, the sun is higher in the sky. I’m not sure if it’s the caffeine or the conversation, but I’m in much better spirits than I was earlier.

I get inside my car and lock it after me.

Maybe I imagined it all.

I’m running low on sleep, so it’s possible that my anxiety just manifested in scary ways this morning.

There’s a new message on my phone. It’s Mrs. Hendricks. She wants me to drop by her office. She doesn’t mention why, but I assume it has to do with paperwork.

As I drive to the agency, I hum to a pop song on the radio.

When I walk inside the building, thereceptionist greets me with a bright smile.

“Good afternoon, Miss Turner,” she says, standing. “Mrs. Hendricks is expecting you.”

She escorts me toward the office door, knocking once before opening it for me.

“Hey, sweetie.” Mrs. Hendricks, like always, looks like a million bucks this morning. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Hi, Mrs. Hendricks,” I say. “I came as soon as I saw your message.”

Her office smells like peppermint chocolate. Sunlight falls on the wooden bookshelves, making the space look even more cozy.

“Take a seat, Emma. I have some good news for you.”

She pours hibiscus tea into a porcelain cup and slides it toward me.

“Thank you,” I say, wrapping my hand around the warm beverage. “What’s the good news?”

“The nanny job,” she says. “It’s yours.”

My breath hitches in my throat.

“I don’t understand,” I say. “Mr. Sinclair made it very clear that he didn’t want me there.”

Just saying his name out loud makes hot lava run down my spine.

“He had a change of heart,” she says.

“Why?”

“He didn’t say why, but he called me in the early hours of the morning to tell me that he wanted to give the nanny position to you.”

My default instinct is to deny the offer, but at the same time, I’m filled with this warm glow. Like there’s sunshine bursting from inside me. It’s a power that feels ancient. Undeniable. Beyond time and space.

“Are you certain he asked for me ?” I point at myself.

“He wants you, Emma,” she replies. “Only you.”

“Oh,” I whisper. My skin heats for all the wrong reasons. I shouldn’t like the sound of that so much.

“I haven’t shared the best part yet. He offered to triple your salary.”

I must have misheard her.

These kinds of things don’t happen to me. Luck never comes knocking on my door. If anything, it’s the opposite. I have tragedy following me around wherever I go.

“Triple?” I repeat.

“Mm-hmm,” she hums. “And you’ll have weekends off, so you can still work part-time at Elysium if you wish.”

“That sounds…perfect,” I say. Almost too good to be true.

I want to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. Getting the nanny job would mean I’d be able to pay all the bills and even put some money aside for the bakery I want to open one day.

“I’m not going to lie, I was looking forward to having you work at the club full-time. But the club is busier on the weekends, so it’s not like my patrons will miss out on you,” she says.

“I’ll just be one of the waitresses, though, right?” I need to double-check that we’re on the same page.

“Yes, darling,” she says. “But I have an angle.”

“What’s the angle?” I ask.

“Girls like you are the forbidden fruit,” she says. “It drives men crazy knowing that they can only look but never touch.”

There’s only one pair of eyes that I want on my body, though. It feels so wrong to even have that thought.

“When do I start at Sinclair mansion?” I ask.

“Sunday morning, just so you can get oriented,” she says. “Does that work for you?”

“Of course,” I say. “I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

I take deep breaths to calm myself, but my heart rate only keeps increasing.

“Emma?” Mrs. Hendricks says.

“Yes?”

“It’s a lot of money, but I would understand if you were to turn down the offer,” she says.

“No, I want the job,” I rush to say. “I just never thought I’d get it after how bad the interview went.”

“I can understand,” she says.

“Did he say why he changed his mind?” I ask.

“Does it matter why?” she replies softly.

I debate whether I want to tell her the truth.

“I saw him at the club yesterday,” I admit. “We bumped into each other. I don’t think he recognized me, but I recognized him. Do you think that has anything to do with why he selected me?”

She purses her lips.

Confidentiality is something they pride themselves on at the gentlemen’s club. She’s not going to give me anything about Mr. Sinclair’s nighttime rendezvouses.

“All I’ll say right now is that he’ll do anything, absolutely anything , for those kids,” she says. “And he’s decided that the best thing for those kids is you.”

There’s an intensity in her eyes that tells me that she knows more than she’s letting on. It seems like everyone in this town has their secrets.

I wonder how well she knows the Sinclair family. Because if there’s anyone who knows about the people who inhabit this town, it’s Mrs. Hendricks.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Do you have any other questions for me?” she asks.

“Not right now,” I say. I’ve already been briefed about what the job entails. I know what’s expected of me.

What I’m really curious about is the kid’s uncle—the mysterious man with the haunted eyes. But I can’t ask her questions about him just because I seem to have developed some type of fascination with him.

“Well, if you need anything, you know how to reach me,” she says.

I finish my hibiscus tea and stand. I clutch my purse close to my chest. A mix of euphoria and panic floods my system.

“Oh, and Emma?” Mrs. Hendricks calls out.

I turn. “Yes?”

“We take confidentiality very seriously at this agency. The personal lives of all my clients should be respected. No matter what you see at Sinclair mansion, I expect you to keep it to yourself.”

“Of course.” I nod.

My heart twists in anticipation as I walk back to my car. There was a warning in her eyes that didn’t quite make sense.

It makes me wonder if I’m ready for whatever awaits me at Klaus Sinclair’s mansion.