Work started at six every morning and ended at nine at night. Two days off per month. Staff ate only in the kitchen, never in the dining room. The owner was not to be addressed unless he spoke first. The bedrooms upstairs were off limits unless specifically instructed.
And most important of all: ask no questions.
In the enormous kitchen—larger than Mary’s entire home—she met the rest of the staff: Carla, Elena, and Teresa.
It was Carla who quietly leaned toward her and whispered,
“This house has trouble.”
The owner’s son, Ethan, had locked himself inside his room. He refused to eat or speak. Three previous maids had already quit because of the tension in the house. Some nights, staff claimed they heard shouting and things crashing upstairs.
Doctors kept coming and going.
Nothing helped.
Mary listened silently. Fear would not help her. She needed the job too badly.
Later that afternoon she saw Nathaniel Brooks for the first time. He moved through the house quickly, always dressed in expensive suits, his silver hair perfectly combed. But his eyes were exhausted, and his hands trembled slightly.
He was constantly leaving the house to meet more doctors or specialists.