Chapter 2 - Shadows of the PastThe silence in Ethan’s mahogany-paneled office was suffocating. Rosa sat stiffly on the edge of the leather sofa, Lily tucked safely against her side, coloring quietly with a piece of paper Ethan had wordlessly handed her.
Ethan stood by the towering window, looking out over the manicured lawns. He poured a glass of scotch, though he didn't drink it. The ice clinked against the crystal—a sharp, jarring sound.
"Three years and four months," Ethan said suddenly, his back still turned. "That is Lily's age, correct?"
Rosa swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."
"Do not call me sir, Rosa. Not right now." Ethan turned around, leaning against his heavy oak desk. He stared at her, piecing together a puzzle that had haunted him for nearly four years. "Three years and roughly thirteen months ago, I attended a masquerade charity gala in the city. The blackout. The storm that trapped hundreds of people in the St. Regis hotel."
Rosa’s breath hitched. She looked down at her hands. They were spotless, rough from work, but spotless.
"I remember a woman," Ethan continued, his voice dropping softer, more vulnerable than the tabloids would ever believe possible. "She had retreated to the library to escape the crowd. It was pitch black. We spoke for hours in the dark. I never saw her face. But I remember her voice. And I remember... the perfume she wore. Vanilla and sandalwood."
He took a slow step toward her. "When you started working here two years ago, I smelled that perfume. I told myself I was losing my mind. That you were just a housekeeper. That the woman from the St. Regis was a ghost."
He stopped right in front of her, looking down at Lily, who was busy drawing a lopsided piano. "But ghosts don't have grey eyes, Rosa."
Rosa closed her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek. "You were engaged to Sylvia even back then," she whispered, the truth finally breaking free. "I was a caterer at that event. When the lights came back on, I ran. Because a man like you... a man with the world at his feet... doesn't walk into the light with the girl serving the champagne."
"I searched for you for six months," Ethan said, his voice breaking. He knelt before her, just as he had done for Lily in the parlor. "Why didn't you tell me? When you realized you were pregnant? When you took a job in my house?"
"I was hiding!" Rosa cried out, her composure shattering. She pulled Lily closer, her voice dropping into a desperate whisper. "I wasn't just hiding from you, Ethan. I was hiding from them."
Ethan frowned, his brow furrowing. "Them?"
Rosa’s body trembled as the dark memories clawed their way to the surface. "My family. The people who were supposed to protect us." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "Before I came here, I was living back home. I attended a party at my parents' house. I thought it was safe. But I found Lily locked inside the bathroom."
Ethan’s blood ran cold. The atmosphere in the room shifted from dramatic to dangerous. "What happened?"
"Her face was bruised," Rosa whispered, tears flowing freely now. "Her arms were covered in strange round marks. When I reached for her, she flinched. She begged me not to let her grandmother see her. I carried her out to the dining room. My sister laughed. She said Lily was being difficult. She said she needed toughening up."
Ethan’s fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. The glass of scotch on his desk suddenly looked like something he wanted to throw through a wall.
"I tried to leave," Rosa sobbed quietly. "My mother blocked the hallway and demanded an apology from me. My father threw a glass at us. It shattered against the wall. I called 911 from the driveway. At the hospital, the doctor told me the bruises came from repeated pressure. Lily whispered that her grandmother had done it."
Ethan closed his eyes, a violent fury simmering beneath his skin.
"I pressed charges, but they have money. They have connections," Rosa said, wiping her face. "They threatened to take her from me, claiming I was an unfit mother. So, I ran. I changed my name. I took the lowest-profile job I could find—cleaning a mansion where the owner was never home. I never planned for you to notice us. I just wanted to keep her safe."
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Ethan reached out, gently resting his large, warm hand over Rosa’s trembling fingers.
"No one," Ethan said, his voice a lethal, quiet promise, "will ever lay a finger on either of you again. Not Sylvia. Not your family. They will burn before I let them near my daughter."
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