The mansion was bigger than I expected.
Not just in size but in presence. The towering iron gates loomed over me, cold and unwelcoming, their delicate designs forming a barrier between the outside world and the secrets within. Beyond them, the Wolfe estate stretched across acres of land, a fortress of stone and glass, isolated from the city like its owner preferred it that way.
I had done my research before coming here.
Damian Wolfe, billionaire CEO. Ruthless businessman. Private. Dangerous.
And the father of the little boy I was here to take care of.
My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag as I took a deep breath. One step at a time, Elena. One step closer to the truth.
The intercom crackled before a deep, male voice filled the silence.
"State your name."
"Elena Carter."
A brief pause. Then, with a metallic groan, the gates swung open.
No "welcome." No instructions. Just an invitation into the lion's den.
I squared my shoulders and stepped forward.
The front door opened before I could knock.
A man stood in the doorway, tall and imposing. Damian Wolfe.
Even if I hadn't seen his face in the business magazines, I would've known him instantly. He had the kind of presence that made people hesitate,broad-shouldered, dark-haired, with a face that belonged on a magazine cover but eyes that belonged to a man who had seen too much.
Eyes that were studying me now, cold and assessing.
"Elena Carter," he said, his voice deep, controlled. Not a greeting. A statement.
I met his gaze without flinching. "Mr. Wolfe."
Another pause. Then, stepping aside, he gestured for me to enter.
I stepped into the mansion, my shoes clicking softly against the polished marble floor. The air inside was crisp, almost sterile, as if warmth had been scrubbed out of the very walls. Everything was sleek, expensive, and meticulously placed.
But it wasn't the kind of wealth that impressed me.
It was the kind that suffocated.
Damian shut the door behind me and crossed his arms. "Let's get one thing straight,you're here for one reason and one reason only. My son."
"I understand."
"Do you?" His gaze sharpened. "Because the last three nannies thought they did too. They lasted a month, two weeks, and one day, respectively."
"I don't scare easily."
"Good." He didn't smile, but something flickered in his expression, like he wasn't used to hearing that.
Another test, maybe.
He turned on his heel and walked deeper into the house. "Follow me."
The house was massive, but it didn't feel like a home.
I expected family portraits, little traces of childhood scattered across the rooms. Instead, everything was pristine, as if no one really lived here.
But as we moved down the hall, I caught something out of place,a small, battered toy car abandoned near the base of the staircase. A lone piece of childhood in a house frozen in time.
Damian stopped in front of a door. He hesitated, just for a second, before pushing it open.
Inside, a boy sat curled up by the window, knees drawn to his chest.
Theo Wolfe.
Six years old. The child everyone said was impossible to handle. The reason I was here.
His dark curls were messy, falling over his pale face. He didn't look at us when we entered, didn't move. If I hadn't seen the slow rise and fall of his chest, I would've thought he was asleep.
Damian exhaled sharply. "Theo."
Nothing.
I stepped forward slowly, lowering myself onto my knees so I was level with him.
"Hey, kiddo."
Still, no reaction.
"I hear you're not a fan of nannies," I continued.
"Can't say I blame you. They probably don't let you have any fun."
Silence.
I glanced around the room, searching for something,anything that could tell me what he liked. The walls were bare, no posters or decorations. A single bookshelf stood in the corner, filled with books that looked untouched.
But on the floor, half-hidden beneath the curtains, was a notebook.
I reached for it slowly, flipping it open.
Drawings.
Pages filled with dark, scribbled images. Some messy, some precise. A house. A storm. A shadowy figure.
And one image that made my breath catch.
A woman.
Face obscured, but something about it felt… familiar.
"Elena."
I stiffened at the sound of Damian's voice behind me.
I looked up to find his gaze locked on the notebook in my hands. Not anger. Not annoyance.
Something darker. Something unreadable.
Carefully, I closed the notebook and set it down beside Theo.
"I'll let you get used to me," I said softly.
"No rush."
For the first time, Theo moved,just slightly. His fingers curled around the edge of the notebook, pulling it closer to him.
And for now, that was enough.
That night, I stood by the window in my small guest room, staring out into the vast estate.
The wind howled through the trees, rustling the branches like whispers in the dark.
The Wolfe mansion held secrets. I could feel them in the walls, in the way Damian avoided certain topics, in the haunted look in Theo's eyes.
But I wasn't just here to take care of a child.
I was here for answers.
And I had the feeling I wasn't the only one searching.