Page 9

Maggie doesn't attempt to pull free. She sits quietly with one arm wrapped around Ivy's shoulders, smoothing through her curls at regular intervals. The motion appears instinctive now. I find myself staring at them before forcing my attention back toward the road ahead. Grief occupies every available space inside the SUV.

Irina should be here.

The thought rises abruptly and grips me hard. For years, she held a place in this family's life that no employee ever could. She knew Ivy's favorite bedtime stories, how many strawberries she preferred sliced into her cereal, which nightmares needed lights on, and which needed an extra blanket. She attended school performances, doctor appointments, birthday parties, and countless ordinary afternoons that now feel far more valuable than they did this morning.

Now she's gone.

I drag a slow breath into my lungs and force myself to keep looking forward through the windshield, pushing the thought aside before it digs deeper.

The estate gates finally come into view. The steel bars slide open automatically as the SUV approaches. Additional security vehicles already occupy the circular driveway. Two men stand near the front entrance while another pair patrols the perimeter beyond the fountain.

It’s not enough. Nothing feels like enough tonight.

Luka parks near the front steps. As soon as the vehicle stops, Ivy's eyes snap open. Fear flashes across her face before she turns toward Maggie.

“It's okay,” Maggie murmurs, brushing a strand of damp hair away from her forehead. “We're home.”

Home.

The word echoes strangely inside me. I exit the vehicle first and circle to open the rear door. Ivy refuses to release Maggie's hand. Eventually, Maggie climbs out beside her, and together they cross the front steps while security personnel move around us. No one attempts a conversation. They’re not foolish enough to mistake tonight for a normal evening.

The front doors open before we reach them, spilling warm light across the marble foyer beyond. Under normal circumstances, the house feels welcoming despite its size, filled with familiar sounds and quiet activity. Tonight, an uneasy silence hangs over every room. The staff knows what happened. They know Irina is gone. The truth shows plainly on their faces as we step inside, grief and shock shadowing expressions that usually brighten at the sight of Ivy.

Mrs. Bennett stands near the foyer with red-rimmed eyes. The housekeeper lifts a hand to her chest when she sees Ivy before quickly looking away.

The sound of nails clicking across the floor draws my attention toward the hallway. Daisy appears first, followed closely by Winston. Both dogs make a beeline for Ivy. Winston's usual enthusiasm is nowhere to be found. He brushes against her legs and remains there while Daisy sits beside her, leaning into her knee.

Ivy reaches down automatically, burying one hand in Daisy's fur. Some of the strain leaves her shoulders.

“I'm tired,” she whispers.

Maggie crouches in front of her.

“I know, sweetheart.”

The tenderness in her voice reaches places I would rather leave untouched.

“I think a bath might help,” Maggie murmurs, resting one hand against Ivy's cheek.

Ivy nods weakly. “Will you stay?”

Maggie reaches for Ivy's hand. “Of course I will.”

Relief washes across Ivy's face.

A painful sensation twists through me. I’ve spent six years protecting my daughter from every danger I could identify. I built walls around her life, hired security, and monitored every threat. Yet tonight the person she needs most isn’t me.

The realization stings, but I understand it completely. Maggie saved her. When violence erupted inside that hallway, Maggie ran toward my daughter while everyone else scrambled to survive. I would cling to her, too.

Maggie guides Ivy toward the staircase. Daisy falls into step beside them while Winston trails close behind. They disappear up the stairs as Luka steps beside me.

“She's holding together better than I expected.”

I know he means Maggie. “She's doing it for Ivy.”

We stand in silence for several moments before I force myself to move. Calls are waiting. Security reports. Questions with no answers. But instead of heading to my office, I walk upstairs.

The hallway is quiet when I reach the second floor. I stop outside Ivy's room and listen. Water runs beyond the partially open bathroom door while Maggie's voice carries faintly into the hallway. I can't make out the words, only the soothing cadence and calm reassurance woven through every syllable.