A dirty motel room in the present day. Rain hits the window hard. Catherine, who is 24, looks at a newspaper article. It depicts her family smiling before everything was taken.
The neon sign outside flickered and shed a sickening yellow light on the peeling wallpaper, making the little hotel room look like it was full of sorrow. The rain pounded against the glass, and each drop was like a tiny hammer blow on Catherine's weak will. She traced the faded picture in the newspaper clipping: her parents, beaming with pleasure, and herself, glowing in her graduation gown. A long time ago. Before the fire. Before the whispers. Before she became… someone else.
A sour laugh escaped her lips, lost in the roar of a passing truck. "Catherine Lane," it stated alongside the picture, "Valedictorian sets sights on Wall Street." Ambitious, determined, destined for greatness. That girl was gone, engulfed by the flames that had taken everything – her family, her money, and the small spark of life blossoming within her. The physicians had been blunt: the trauma, the smoke inhalation… she would never carry a kid to term. A tragic twist of fate, taking away her future.
She crushed the clipping in her fingers, the paper slicing into her palm. No. Catherine Lane was dead. Now, she was just… Lena. Lena Hayes. A ghost, drifting through life, haunted by what she had lost.
The chipped bedside clock blinked 3:00 AM. Sleep was a luxury she couldn't afford, not with the nightmares that clawed at the boundaries of her mind. She needed a strategy, a way out of her suffocating existence. The savings she had managed to rescue were diminishing, just enough to support another month at this rat-trap motel.
She reached for her laptop, its tattered exterior a tribute to her current circumstances. A brief search brought up the usual assortment of dead-end jobs: waitressing, cleaning, retail. All offered minimal salary and a continuous reminder of how far she had fallen.
Then, a listing caught her eye: "Live-In Nanny Needed: Scott Residence – Generous Salary + Benefits"
A live-in position… a chance to escape this place, to remake oneself completely. And the "generous salary" was extremely appealing. She clicked on the ad, her heart pumping with a mixture of hope and anxiety.
The qualifications were straightforward: expertise with children, CPR certification, a clean background check. She might fake the experience aspect. The background check… that was a problem. Catherine Lane wouldn't pass. But Lena Hayes, with her invented backstory, might have a shot.
The ad mentioned twins, a boy and a girl, and a widower father. A photograph accompanied the listing: a magnificent estate situated on a groomed lawn, a dramatic contrast to her current surroundings. The Scott Residence. It looked like something out of a fairy tale.
She paused. Taking care of children… it would be a daily reminder of what she had lost. But she needed this. She needed the money, the escape, the chance to establish a new life, even if it was built on a foundation of falsehoods.
With a deep breath, she pressed "Apply."
Three days later. Catherine, as "Lena," stands uncomfortably before the towering gates of the Scott Residence. The home is much more stunning up close.
The wrought-iron gates, decorated with the Scott family insignia, loomed before her like a barrier to another universe. She gripped her battered bag, her palms sweaty. This was it. No turning back now.
A stern-faced security man emerged from the gatehouse, his eyes inspecting her.
"Name?" he yelled.
"Lena Hayes," she replied, her voice scarcely a whisper.
He examined his clipboard. "You're expected. Mr. Scott will see you in the main house."
The gates swung open, and she stepped into the long, curving driveway, her heart thumping against her ribs. The mansion crept closer, its windows like watching eyes. She felt like a trespasser, an imposter in a world she didn't belong to.
A uniformed maid welcomed her at the main door, her countenance deadpan. "Mr. Scott is waiting for you in the study. Follow me."
The interior of the mansion was breathtaking. Marble floors, glittering chandeliers, priceless artwork… it was a world of unbelievable luxury and privilege. She felt a stab of envy, swiftly suppressed. This wasn't her world. She was only passing by.
The maid brought her to a huge, mahogany-paneled chamber. "Mr. Scott will be with you shortly," she replied, before vanishing softly.
Catherine took a tentative step into the study. The area was filled with leather-bound books and antique furnishings. A big window afforded a panoramic view of the carefully groomed gardens. It was a space built to wow, to intimidate.
And then, he strolled in.
Liam Scott enters the study. He is devastatingly attractive, with piercing blue eyes and a gloomy intensity. He radiates strength and control.
Liam Scott was everything the images hadn't captured. He was taller, more imposing, with an air of quiet authority that made her breath catch in her throat. His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, appraised her with an intensity that made her skin prickle. He was clothed in a flawlessly cut suit, his every movement emanating effortless grace.
"Miss Hayes," he continued, his voice strong and resonant. "Thank you for coming."
"Mr. Scott," she answered, attempting to keep her poise.
He gestured to a leather armchair. "Please, have a seat."
She sat down, her hands clutched tightly in her lap. The stillness stretched between them, filled with unsaid strain.
"I've read your application," he replied, his gaze still fixated on her. "You have… limited experience with children."
She swallowed heavily. "I've babysat occasionally," she claimed. "And I'm a quick learner."
He raised an eyebrow. "The twins can be… challenging."
"I'm prepared for a challenge," she continued, her voice louder now. She needed this work. She wouldn't let him intimidate her.
He leaned back in his chair, his stare steadfast. "Tell me, Miss Hayes, why do you want this job?"
She paused. "I need a fresh start," she remarked, selecting her words carefully. "I'm looking for a stable environment and an opportunity to build a new life."
He regarded her for a long while, his expression opaque. "I see. And what do you know about my children?"
"I know they're seven years old, fraternal twins," she stated. "Lois is… spirited, and Victor is more reserved."
He nodded. "Lois is… grieving," he replied, his voice lowering slightly. "She misses her mother."
Catherine's heart ached. She understood grief all too well.
"I'm good with children," she replied, her voice earnest. "I can help them through this."
He stood up and moved to the window, his back to her. "My wife's death was… difficult," he continued, his voice low. "The twins have been through a lot. I need someone who is patient, reliable, and trustworthy."
He turned back to her, his eyes seeking hers. "Can I trust you, Miss Hayes?"
"You can, Mr. Scott," she answered, meeting his gaze. "You can trust me."
He continued to stare at her. This was a stare down, as if he could see straight through her.
He glanced at her up and down. "You're hired."
Later that evening. Catherine unpacks her limited stuff in a small but cozy room on the third floor of the mansion. She overhears a furious argument downstairs.
Her room was small, but clean and pleasant. A far cry from the dismal motel room she had left behind. She unloaded her few items, hanging her clothing in the closet and placing a framed image on the bedside — a picture of herself with her parents, taken years ago. A reminder of who she used to be, and who she longed to become again.
As she finished unloading, she heard heated voices coming from downstairs. It sounded like Liam and… Isabelle?
She moved to the door and listened, her heart racing with a mixture of interest and unease.
"You can't be serious, Liam!" Isabelle's voice was strong and angry. "Hiring a nanny with no experience? What were you thinking?"
"It's my decision, Isabelle," Liam's voice was icy and contemptuous. "I don't need your approval."
"She's clearly hiding something," Isabelle continued. "I don't trust her. She's seeking your money, Liam."
"That's enough," Liam yelled. "Lena is good with the children. That's all that matters."
"You're blind, Liam," Isabelle remarked, her voice dripping with hate. "You're going to regret this."
Catherine stepped back from the door, her face pale. So, Isabelle didn't trust her either. This was going to be more complicated than she expected.
As she slipped into bed, the rain still falling outside, Catherine couldn't shake the feeling that she had walked into something far more perilous than she had anticipated. What secrets was Liam Scott hiding? And what was Isabelle Moreau willing to do to protect them?