Chapter 7 - The Nanny’s Secret
Back in Tribeca, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in bruises of purple and orange. Lily had finally eaten a few spoonfuls of chicken broth—the first real nourishment in five days. She was currently sitting propped up against her pillows, watching quietly as Claire drew a clumsy picture of a yellow duck on a sketchpad.
"Quack," Claire said in a silly voice, making the duck wobble across the page.
A tiny, breathless puff of air escaped Lily’s nose. A smile—the first one Claire had seen—flickered at the corner of the child's mouth for half a second before vanishing.
"Good job," Claire whispered, turning the page. "Your turn."
She handed the crayon to Lily. The little girl’s fingers trembled slightly, but she gripped the yellow wax crayon and pressed it against the white paper, drawing a jagged, fierce line across the page.
"Is that a road?" Claire asked gently.
"Fast cars," Lily whispered. Her voice was like dry paper, rough from disuse, but hearing it made Claire’s heart swell.
"Fast cars," Claire repeated softly. "Were they scary?"
Before Lily could answer, the double doors of the master suite swung open. Gabriel walked in, his dark coat damp from the rain, his expression unreadable. He stopped at the foot of the bed, his gaze dropping to the drawing in his daughter's hands.
Lily instantly retreated, pulling her knees up and clutching the sketchpad to her chest, her eyes widening with a sudden flash of panic.
"Lily," Gabriel said, his voice dropping into that gentle, broken register he used only for her. "It's just me, sweetie."
Claire stood up slowly, stepping between Gabriel and the bed. She gave him a sharp, warning look. "Mr. Varrick, give her space. She was just starting to talk."
Gabriel looked at Claire—not with the fury of a crime lord, but with the heavy, exhausted burden of a man carrying a secret too large for words. He pulled an envelope from his coat pocket and held it out.
"What is this?" Claire asked, eyeing it cautiously.
"Your second week's pay," Gabriel said flatly. "And a plane ticket to Boston for your mother."
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Claire froze. She stared at the thick white envelope, then up at Gabriel's stormy gray eyes. "What are you talking about?"
"Your mother's hospital debt isn't eighty-one thousand," Gabriel said quietly, loud enough for the room to hear. "It’s eighty-four thousand, five hundred. I settled it an hour ago. And her treatment has been transferred to a private oncology wing in Boston, fully covered."
