He Chose The Nanny, I Chose Revenge

Clara pushed open the heavy oak door of her Manhattan penthouse. She kicked off her four-inch heels, letting her bare feet sink into the plush runner. She dropped her Birkin bag onto the marble entryway console and rubbed the tight space between her eyebrows. Fourteen hours of grueling board meetings for the family foundation left a dull pounding at the base of her skull. A loud, heavy thud echoed from down the hallway. It came from the playroom. A second later, a sharp, piercing scream ripped through the quiet apartment. Clara's stomach dropped. Her heart kicked against her ribs. She didn't bother grabbing her shoes. She sprinted down the hallway, her bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor. She shoved the half-open glass door of the playroom. Her momentum stopped. A sea of sharp plastic Lego bricks covered the floor, blocking her path. Her five-year-old son, Leo, sat on the edge of the rug. His small arms were wrapped tightly around a red toy fire truck. A massive, angry purple welt was already forming on his forehead, right where he had hit the edge of the wooden bookshelf. His eyes were wide and swimming with tears, but his jaw was clamped shut. He was trying so hard not to cry. In the center of the room sat Autumn, the nanny's five-year-old daughter, exactly the same age as Leo. Autumn was pointing at her own knee and wailing at the top of her lungs. There was a microscopic red scratch on her skin. Before Clara could step over the Legos, the heavy mahogany door of the adjacent study flew open. Chadwick rushed into the room. He didn't even look at Clara. He didn't look at Leo. His eyes locked onto the crying little girl in the center of the room. His eyes flickered to Leo's bleeding forehead for a fraction of a second, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths, before he forced his gaze away and rushed to Autumn. Chadwick's knees hit the carpet with a heavy thud as he slid to a stop in front of Autumn. "Where does it hurt? Show me," Chadwick demanded. His voice shook. His hands were actually trembling as he reached out to cup the little girl's calf. Autumn didn't hesitate. She threw her arms around Chadwick's neck and buried her face in his shoulder. She rubbed her snot and tears directly into the lapel of his custom Tom Ford suit. Clara stood frozen in the doorway. A cold, unnatural chill washed over her skin. She stared at her husband. The sheer panic radiating from his body was entirely disproportionate to the situation. Clara forced air into her lungs. She carefully stepped over the scattered blocks and knelt beside Leo. She reached out and gently tilted her son's chin up. The welt on his forehead was hot to the touch. Leo flinched. He looked past his mother, his lower lip trembling as he watched his father hold another child. "What happened, Leo?" Clara asked. She kept her voice low and steady. Autumn heard the question. She pulled her face out of Chadwick's neck. "He pushed me!" Autumn screamed, pointing a chubby finger at Leo. "He wanted my toy!" Chadwick's head snapped around. His eyes narrowed as they landed on his five-year-old son. The panic in his expression instantly morphed into cold anger. "What is wrong with you?" Chadwick snapped. "We do not put our hands on girls. We do not bully people smaller than us." Leo gripped the red fire truck tighter. His knuckles turned white. "She took it!" Leo yelled back, his voice cracking. "She scratched me!" Clara grabbed Leo's left hand and turned it over. Three deep, bleeding half-moon indentations dug into the back of his hand. Nail marks. On the nightstand beside Leo's bed, a small framed photo showed him hugging a fluffy white Samoyed — Snowball, the dog his father had reluctantly allowed two years ago. The dog had been Leo's constant companion, but lately, Chadwick had been muttering about allergies and "unnecessary mess." Clara stood up. She held Leo's bleeding hand out toward her husband. "Look at his hand, Chadwick," Clara said. Her voice was ice. "Look at your son's head." Chadwick's eyes flicked to the blood on Leo's hand. He swallowed hard, his gaze darting away for a fraction of a second. He reached up and adjusted his expensive right cuff. "Boys get scraped up. It builds character," Chadwick said. His voice was louder now, defensive. He stood up, lifting Autumn effortlessly into his arms. "She needs ice. And antibacterial ointment," Chadwick said, turning his back on them. He walked out of the playroom, carrying the nanny's daughter against his chest. Clara stood in the middle of the room. She pressed her fingernails into her palms until the skin stung. Leo finally broke. A loud sob tore from his throat. He dropped the fire truck and buried his face in Clara's stomach, his small shoulders shaking violently. Clara dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around him. She pressed her lips to the top of his head. She stared at the empty doorway. The shock in her chest was slowly hardening into something sharp and dangerous.