A woman’s voice answered, crisp and controlled. “Yes?”
“Good morning. My name is Emily Brooks. I’m here for the nanny interview.”
There was a pause—long enough for Emily’s stomach to tighten.
Then the gate buzzed and opened.
“Proceed. Follow the driveway to the front entrance.”
Emily rolled her suitcase forward, absorbing everything. The garden alone was larger than the apartment complex where she’d grown up outside Cleveland, where space had always been measured and money stretched thin.
Here, even the air felt expensive.
The front door opened before she could knock.
A gray-haired woman with a severe bun and sharp eyes stood there.
“I’m Mrs. Whitman, the household manager,” she said. “Mr. Reed is waiting in his office.”
Inside, the marble floors echoed beneath Emily’s worn shoes. Framed art lined the hallway, each piece worth more than her first car.
Mrs. Whitman stopped at a heavy wooden door and knocked twice.
“Mr. Reed, the candidate has arrived.”
“Send her in.”
The office was large but cluttered—medical files, lab reports, folders stacked like a problem that had outgrown its answers.
Behind the desk sat Daniel Reed.