Chapter 1 - The First Test
I stared at the baseball resting securely in my palm.
The heavy leather was scuffed, and the red stitching was frayed from years of use.
Adrian Vale's whispered warning about the last nanny echoed in the freezing morning air.
I looked up at the four boys standing on the second-floor landing.
They were waiting for me to scream, cry, or run back to the waiting SUV.
Instead, I tossed the baseball lightly in my hand and walked straight through the massive front doors.
The grand foyer was a masterpiece of Italian marble and sweeping dual staircases.
I did not stop to admire the architecture.
I marched up the right staircase, my boots clicking sharply against the polished stone.
The boys scrambled backward, clearly shocked that I was advancing instead of retreating.
By the time I reached the top floor, they had vanished down a long, dimly lit corridor.
I followed the sound of their hurried footsteps.
My years working in emergency foster care had taught me to always watch the floor.
That habit saved my life.
A nearly invisible piece of fishing line was stretched tightly across the hallway at ankle height.
I stepped carefully over the tripwire and continued toward the partially open door at the end of the hall.
Inside, the four boys were huddled together in a massive playroom.
Evan, the oldest, stood defensively in front of his younger brothers.
He held a wooden cricket bat gripped tightly in his pale hands.
I did not yell or demand an apology.
I simply rolled the baseball across the floor until it stopped gently at his feet.
I told them I was not going anywhere because my sister needed me to stay.
Noah, the seven-year-old, peeked out from behind Evan's arm.
He asked if I was going to lock them in the closet like the others did.
The raw fear in his young voice shattered the illusion of their tough exterior.
These were not cruel children playing malicious pranks.
They were terrified boys trying to protect themselves from strangers.
I knelt down to their eye level and promised I would never lock them away.
Evan slowly lowered the wooden bat, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction.
Then I noticed what they were actually hiding behind their small bodies.
There was a heavy steel door completely concealed behind a massive bookshelf.
The bookshelf had been pushed aside in their rush to hide.
I stepped around the boys and placed my hand on the cold steel handle.
I pulled the door open, expecting to find a closet full of broken toys.
Instead, the small room was lined with glowing surveillance monitors.
My blood turned to absolute ice in my veins.
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The screens were not showing the mansion's perimeter.
They were broadcasting a live, high-definition feed of my sister sleeping in her hospital bed.
