When Marian Brooks stepped out of the taxi in front of Richard Navarro’s mansion, she felt it immediately—the air was different. Thicker. Quieter. As if the house itself was holding its breath, afraid to make a sound.
The black iron gate opened with a low metallic groan. Inside, the garden was perfectly trimmed, flawless to the point of feeling unreal—more like a postcard than a place where people lived.
Marian tightened her grip on the strap of her backpack, smoothed her hair, and looked up at the tall glass windows. There was plenty of light inside, but no warmth. She had worked in large homes before, but never in one so heavy with silence.
As she crossed the threshold, a long hallway swallowed her steps. Oversized paintings lined the walls. Polished marble floors echoed softly beneath her shoes. Members of the staff nodded without really looking at her, offering brief greetings, as if speaking too much might break an unspoken rule.
Marian smiled anyway—out of habit, and out of self-protection.
Then Richard Navarro appeared.
Tall. Immaculate. His tailored suit fit him like armor. His eyes were sharp but distant, always focused on something just beyond the people in front of him.
“Good morning,” he said, without extending his hand.
It wasn’t rude. It was empty. As if courtesy were something he hadn’t practiced in a very long time.
He gestured toward the staircase.
Standing there were Ethan and Lily, eight-year-old twins, dressed identically, as though someone had tried to freeze them into the same image. Ethan stared at the floor. Lily crossed her arms tightly. Both carried the expression of children who had learned that showing emotion rarely changed anything.
“She’ll be your nanny,” Richard said flatly.
Marian bent slightly to their level and smiled, soft and patient.
“Hi. I’m Marian. What would you like for dinner tonight?”
Lily blinked slowly, as if the question were in a language she barely remembered.
“Nothing,” she said.
Ethan echoed the word without lifting his eyes.
Marian felt a sharp ache in her chest. She had heard stories of grief, of children who refused food, of silent rebellions. But this wasn’t stubbornness.
This was hunger that had nothing to do with food.
Richard watched her carefully, as if deciding whether she would crack under the weight of it all. Then he nodded and led her through the house, his voice neutral, the way someone guides guests through a museum.
The dining room held a long, endless table. Silver cutlery gleamed under the lights—far too elegant for a table that was rarely used. The living room sofas looked untouched. In the garden, old toys lay abandoned near a dry fountain.
Life was paused everywhere, as if someone had pressed pause and no one dared press play again.
On shelves and walls, framed photographs appeared again and again: Richard standing beside a woman with a bright, radiant smile.
Laura.
Marian understood without needing to hear the name.
The twins looked just like her—especially Lily, with eyes that seemed capable of crying without letting a single tear fall.
“You start tomorrow at eight,” Richard said at the end of the tour, already turning toward his office.
“Don’t force them to eat. They’re not required to do anything.”
And then he was gone.
Marian stood alone with the children for the first time, the silence settling over them like a heavy blanket.
She tried gently.
“How are you feeling today?”
The house answered only with the echo of her own voice.
Later that afternoon, in the kitchen, Marian met Mrs. Parker, the cook—a woman in her sixties, quick with her hands, serious-faced, eyes that looked like they had witnessed too many goodbyes.
“Why do you even bother dressing nicely?” Mrs. Parker muttered, chopping onions without looking up.
“The kids won’t notice. And Mr. Navarro won’t either.”
Marian gave a small laugh—not because it was funny, but because she needed to stay calm.
“Maybe not today,” she said softly. “But maybe someday.”
The knife hit the cutting board again. Sharp. Precise.
“Since Mrs. Laura passed, those kids barely eat,” Mrs. Parker said.
“Five nannies before you. All of them quit.”
Marian swallowed.
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