Outside the library, rain hammered against stained glass. Inside, the fire crackled in a patient sort of way. On a walnut table by his chair, Malcolm placed an open envelope thick with bills. Five thousand dollars. He wanted the bait to look tempting and misplaced. Then he waited.
The door squeaked softly and a young maid named Brianna stepped inside, her son trailing close behind her. Brianna had only served at Greyford Manor for a month. She was weary from juggling debt and a small boy while trying to keep her position. The storm had shut down the local school, leaving her desperate for help. She begged the head housekeeper, Ms. Dudley, to let her bring her child just for the day.
“Milo, stay in this corner,” Brianna whispered, guiding her son onto a woven rug. “Do not touch anything. If you wake Mr. Greyford, I might lose this job. Please be quiet.”
“Yes, Mom,” the boy answered, his voice soft.
Brianna hurried out of the room to finish polishing the silver in the dining hall. Then the library settled into silence. Malcolm listened, expecting mischief. Children tend to explore. They lift lids. They tug at drawers. They drift toward forbidden treasures. Yet Milo stayed still.