Chapter 2 - The Ghosts We Keep
Daniel’s command hung in the heavy air of the grand foyer. The security guards, previously advancing like a pack of wolves, froze in their tracks. Daniel descended the mahogany staircase, his eyes locked onto the trembling woman clutching her oversized spectacles. She backed into the marble wall, trapped by the intensity of the billionaire’s gaze. Slowly, with shaking fingers, she pulled the frames from her face. The harsh chandelier light illuminated her striking hazel eyes and the delicate, unmistakable curve of her jawline. It was Clara. The wife he had buried three years ago after a devastating yacht explosion. Daniel’s breath hitched, the room spinning around him. “Clara,” he choked out, the name tearing from his throat like glass. But the nanny didn’t run into his arms. Instead, she pressed her hands against her ears, her chest heaving. “I don’t know that name,” she whispered frantically, her voice thick with genuine terror. “My name is Maya. I don’t know you.” Oliver broke the tension, wrapping his tiny arms around her legs. “She’s Maya, Daddy. Don’t yell at her.” Daniel dropped to his knees, his hands hovering inches from her face, terrified she was a mirage. The scar under her ear was real. The pulse beating wildly in her neck was real. She had no memory of him, but she was alive. And whoever had kept her hidden for three years was going to pay.
