Page 19 of Scarlet Chains
But the woman laughs, and it’s not unkind. “Honesty. I appreciate that. What’s your situation? Are you available to start immediately?”
“Yes. Absolutely yes.” I close my eyes, trying to channel some confidence. “I’m currently living with my mother, but I’m looking for something more stable. The live-in aspect is actually perfect for me.”
“And you’re comfortable with travel?”
“Travel sounds amazing,” I say, and for the first time in weeks, I actually mean something I’m saying. The idea of leaving this cramped apartment, of putting distance between myself and all the memories in this city, feels like oxygen to drowning lungs.
“What about references?” she asks.
“Oh, that would be no problem,” I say quickly, knowing I can count on Jason for this. “My previous position was with the Boston Police Department, and—”
“You worked for the police department?” she says, her interest obviously piqued.
“Yes. I was the assistant to the police chief,” I tell her. “I’m sure he’d be happy to give you a reference for me.” I keep my fingers crossed, hoping that Jason will be able to say the kind of things a prospective child care client would want to hear.
“Excellent. Our little boy just turned one, and my husband and I have businesses that require frequent travel, sometimes for weeks at a time. We have homes in several countries, so you’d be moving around quite a bit.”
Several countries. Jesus. These people must be loaded.
“That sounds… exciting,” I manage.
“Would you be available to meet in person? Today, if possible? I know it’s short notice, but we’re quite eager to get someone in place. We have a trip planned soon, and the sooner we can have someone to start, the better.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. “Today works perfectly.”
She gives me an address in Back Bay, the wealthy neighborhood confirming my suspicions about their status, and I write it down with shaking hands. After we hang up, I stare at the phone for a long moment.
This could be it. This could be my way out, my chance to start over somewhere new. Somewhere Osip could never find me.
I touch my stomach again, imagining the tiny life growing inside me. “What do you think, little one? Ready for an adventure?”
The baby doesn’t answer, of course. But for the first time since I left Boston, I feel something that might actually be hope.
Now I just have to not screw this up.
Chapter Seven
Ilona
The next morning, I stand at the wrought-iron gates of what can only be described as a fortress disguised as a home.
My jaw literally drops.
Holy shit.
I fumble for the address the woman gave me yesterday, double-checking the numbers against the gleaming plaque mounted on stone pillars that stretch up like cathedral spires. This isn’t a house— it’s a goddamn estate. The kind of place you see in tourism brochures, with manicured hedges and shrubs trimmed into lollipop shapes.
Through the elaborate metalwork, I can see a circular driveway paved in what looks like imported stone, curving around a fountain that belongs in a museum. The mansion itself rises from the landscape like something out of a fairy tale, with cream-colored stone and soaring windows that catch the morning light and throw it back in brilliant, almost blinding flashes.
My stomach churns, but not from morning sickness this time. This is pure intimidation. These people live in a different universe than Mom and me, sleeping on pull-out couches and counting every dime.
The intercom crackles to life before I can even reach for the button. “Miss Katona?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Please come up to the main entrance.”
The gates swing open with a smooth, nearly silent motion that probably cost more than our entire apartment. I walk up the driveway, my worn flats tapping against stone that lookslike it’s scrubbed daily. Up close, the mansion is even more overwhelming. Windows soar three stories high, framed by intricate stonework that must have taken artisans months to complete. Ivy climbs the walls in perfectly controlled patterns— even the plants here are wealthy.
