Chapter 1 - THE FIRST WORDS
The sewing scissors were still in Lucinda’s hand when the room went completely silent.
Andrew stood in the doorway connecting the nursery to his private office, one hand resting against the dark walnut frame.
On the carpet between them lay Alex’s stuffed rabbit.
Its green ribbon had been cut cleanly in half.
Alex was pressed against Elizabeth’s side so tightly that his small fingers had twisted into the fabric of her gray uniform.
His entire body trembled.
Andrew looked at his six-year-old son.
For almost seven months, Alex had refused to speak.
Doctors had called it traumatic mutism.
Therapists had told Andrew not to pressure him.
Lucinda had repeatedly insisted that the boy simply needed stricter discipline.
Then Alex had looked directly at his father and spoken six words.
“Daddy… She is the one who killed Mom.”
Andrew could barely breathe.
Lucinda recovered first.
She raised the scissors and pointed them toward Elizabeth.
“The maid taught him that lie.”
Elizabeth instinctively stepped in front of Alex.
“I did no such thing.”
“Of course you did.”
Lucinda’s voice sharpened.
“You’ve been filling his head with nonsense since the day you arrived.”
Andrew slowly walked across the nursery.
He did not look at Lucinda.
He crouched beside the severed ribbon and picked it up.
The ribbon was faded at the edges.
He recognized it immediately.
His late wife, Caroline, had tied that exact green ribbon around the rabbit’s neck on Alex’s fourth birthday.
It had been one of the final photographs ever taken of her.
Andrew closed his fingers around the fabric.
“Why did you cut this?”
Lucinda laughed nervously.
“It was an old ribbon.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Her smile vanished.
Andrew stood.
For the first time since Caroline’s death, something about Lucinda looked different to him.
Not guilty.
Not yet.
But afraid.
Alex peeked around Elizabeth’s side.
“Daddy.”
Andrew turned instantly.
His son swallowed.
“She had those scissors before.”
Lucinda went pale.
Andrew took one step toward Alex.
“When?”
Alex’s lips trembled.
“The night Mommy fell.”
Lucinda dropped the scissors.
The metallic sound against the hardwood floor seemed impossibly loud.
Andrew stared at her.
Caroline had died after falling from the west balcony seven months earlier.
The police had called it an accident.
The railing had supposedly broken beneath her weight.
Andrew had believed that explanation because he had been in Chicago when it happened.
Lucinda had been the only adult family member inside the house.
She had told everyone she was downstairs when Caroline fell.
Andrew looked down at the ribbon in his hand.
Then he looked at the scissors on the floor.
“Elizabeth.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Take Alex to my office.”
Lucinda stepped forward.
“You cannot possibly believe a frightened child.”
Andrew turned toward her.
“I haven’t decided what I believe.”
His expression hardened.
“But until I do, you are not going near my son again.”
Lucinda stared at him.
“You’re throwing me out because of a six-year-old’s imagination?”
Andrew shook his head.
“No.”
He held up the severed ribbon.
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“I’m asking myself why you look terrified of a piece of cloth.”
And for the first time in seven months, Lucinda had no answer.
