“Who are you?” His voice was low.
“I’m Cassidy. Cassidy Moore. The cleaning woman. I didn’t know you were coming back today.”
He studied her. “This child, she’s yours.”
Cassidy nodded, her arms reaching out in a silent plea.
“She was crying,” the man said. “I came in, heard her crying, came up here, and found her. She was crying alone.”
“I’m sorry. She’s sick. I don’t have anyone to watch her. I need this job. Please don’t fire me.”
But the man only stood there, looking down at Emma. “How many months?”
“8 months.”
The man closed his eyes. When he did, the gray eyes shimmered strangely. “8 months. My son would be 8 months, too, if he were still alive.” He gently placed Emma into Cassidy’s arms. “You can bring her here. Whenever you need to. This room is warm enough. I’m Maxwell Thornton. This is my house, and I’ve just given you permission to stay.”
The name made Cassidy’s blood turn to ice. Maxwell Thornton—the ghost, the most notorious mafia boss on the East Coast. “I need coffee,” he said. “Do you know how to make coffee?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Make a pot. I’ll be down shortly.” As she crossed the threshold, his voice sounded behind her. “Cassidy. Welcome to Thornton Manor.”
The call came the next morning. Gloria Chen, the housekeeper, told Cassidy that Mr. Thornton wanted her to become the official housemaid. The salary would be three times her current pay, housing included. Cassidy looked at Emma and her damp old room and accepted. They moved into Thornton Manor. The servants’s room was heaven compared to her old place. But fear began to grow. Men in black suits moved through the mansion like shadows. She saw bulletproof cars and security cameras everywhere.
One night, Cassidy heard Maxwell’s voice in the living room. “He dared to touch my shipment. Does he think I’m dead?” Isaac, his brother, answered. Maxwell let out a short laugh. “Just enough to make them understand who runs this city.” Cassidy backed away but struck a chair leg. Maxwell appeared in the doorway. “What did you hear?”
“I heard enough to know who you are.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think I knew from the first day. But you haven’t hurt me or my daughter.”
Maxwell turned to Isaac. “This is Isaac, my brother.” Then back to Cassidy: “Go back to your room. You’re safe here, you and the child. No one is allowed to touch what’s mine.”
Two weeks passed. Maxwell began to appear more often during Emma’s feeding times, watching from a distance. One night, Cassidy found him standing outside her room, staring at Emma’s crib. “Victoria was my wife,” Maxwell whispered. “She was the only person who wasn’t afraid of me. And when Thomas was born, I thought my life was complete.” He spat the name “The Castellanos.” “A rival gang wanted my territory. They killed what mattered most. Victoria died holding him in her arms. Thomas was still in his mother’s arms as if he were sleeping. But he wasn’t sleeping.”
“It’s not your fault,” Cassidy said, her hand resting on his shoulder.
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