He Chose The Nanny, I Chose Revenge

Clara pushed open the heavy oak door of her Manhattan penthouse.

She kicked off her four-inch heels, letting her bare feet sink into the plush runner.

She dropped her Birkin bag onto the marble entryway console and rubbed the tight space between her eyebrows. Fourteen hours of grueling board meetings for the family foundation left a dull pounding at the base of her skull.

A loud, heavy thud echoed from down the hallway.

It came from the playroom.

A second later, a sharp, piercing scream ripped through the quiet apartment.

Clara's stomach dropped. Her heart kicked against her ribs.

She didn't bother grabbing her shoes. She sprinted down the hallway, her bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor.

She shoved the half-open glass door of the playroom.

Her momentum stopped. A sea of sharp plastic Lego bricks covered the floor, blocking her path.

Her five-year-old son, Leo, sat on the edge of the rug. His small arms were wrapped tightly around a red toy fire truck.

A massive, angry purple welt was already forming on his forehead, right where he had hit the edge of the wooden bookshelf. His eyes were wide and swimming with tears, but his jaw was clamped shut. He was trying so hard not to cry.

In the center of the room sat Autumn, the nanny's five-year-old daughter, exactly the same age as Leo.

Autumn was pointing at her own knee and wailing at the top of her lungs. There was a microscopic red scratch on her skin.

Before Clara could step over the Legos, the heavy mahogany door of the adjacent study flew open.

Chadwick rushed into the room.

He didn't even look at Clara. He didn't look at Leo.

His eyes locked onto the crying little girl in the center of the room.

His eyes flickered to Leo's bleeding forehead for a fraction of a second, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths, before he forced his gaze away and rushed to Autumn.

Chadwick's knees hit the carpet with a heavy thud as he slid to a stop in front of Autumn.

"Where does it hurt? Show me," Chadwick demanded. His voice shook. His hands were actually trembling as he reached out to cup the little girl's calf.

Autumn didn't hesitate. She threw her arms around Chadwick's neck and buried her face in his shoulder.

She rubbed her snot and tears directly into the lapel of his custom Tom Ford suit.

Clara stood frozen in the doorway. A cold, unnatural chill washed over her skin.

She stared at her husband. The sheer panic radiating from his body was entirely disproportionate to the situation.

Clara forced air into her lungs. She carefully stepped over the scattered blocks and knelt beside Leo.

She reached out and gently tilted her son's chin up. The welt on his forehead was hot to the touch.

Leo flinched. He looked past his mother, his lower lip trembling as he watched his father hold another child.

"What happened, Leo?" Clara asked. She kept her voice low and steady.

Autumn heard the question. She pulled her face out of Chadwick's neck.

"He pushed me!" Autumn screamed, pointing a chubby finger at Leo. "He wanted my toy!"

Chadwick's head snapped around.

His eyes narrowed as they landed on his five-year-old son. The panic in his expression instantly morphed into cold anger.

"What is wrong with you?" Chadwick snapped. "We do not put our hands on girls. We do not bully people smaller than us."

Leo gripped the red fire truck tighter. His knuckles turned white.

"She took it!" Leo yelled back, his voice cracking. "She scratched me!"

Clara grabbed Leo's left hand and turned it over.

Three deep, bleeding half-moon indentations dug into the back of his hand. Nail marks.

On the nightstand beside Leo's bed, a small framed photo showed him hugging a fluffy white Samoyed - Snowball, the dog his father had reluctantly allowed two years ago. The dog had been Leo's constant companion, but lately, Chadwick had been muttering about allergies and "unnecessary mess."

Clara stood up. She held Leo's bleeding hand out toward her husband.

"Look at his hand, Chadwick," Clara said. Her voice was ice. "Look at your son's head."

Chadwick's eyes flicked to the blood on Leo's hand. He swallowed hard, his gaze darting away for a fraction of a second.

He reached up and adjusted his expensive right cuff.

"Boys get scraped up. It builds character," Chadwick said. His voice was louder now, defensive.

He stood up, lifting Autumn effortlessly into his arms.

"She needs ice. And antibacterial ointment," Chadwick said, turning his back on them.

He walked out of the playroom, carrying the nanny's daughter against his chest.

Clara stood in the middle of the room. She pressed her fingernails into her palms until the skin stung.

Leo finally broke. A loud sob tore from his throat.

He dropped the fire truck and buried his face in Clara's stomach, his small shoulders shaking violently.

Clara dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around him. She pressed her lips to the top of his head.

She stared at the empty doorway. The shock in her chest was slowly hardening into something sharp and dangerous.

Clara scooped Leo into her arms.

She turned toward the door, intending to take him to the guest bathroom to clean the blood off his hand.

Rapid, frantic footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Dorcas rounded the corner.

The nanny rushed out, wearing a simple cotton nightgown, her hair hastily tied back. She looked genuinely panicked.

Dorcas took one look at Autumn in Chadwick's arms and let out a dramatic gasp.

She dropped to her knees right at Chadwick's feet.

Her hands shook as she reached out to touch Autumn's perfectly fine knee.

"Oh, my baby! I'm so sorry, I looked away for one second," Dorcas cried. Tears spilled over her eyelashes, tracking down her cheeks.

She slowly tilted her head up. Her fingers drifted to her collarbone. She looked past Chadwick, aiming a wide, terrified look directly at Clara.

"Mr. Brewer, Mrs. Brewer, I am so sorry," Dorcas sobbed. "We will pack our bags tonight. We can go to the homeless shelter in Brooklyn. I won't let my daughter ruin your family's peace."

Chadwick stiffened. The muscles in his jaw ticked.

"Don't be ridiculous," Chadwick snapped.

He reached down with his free hand and grabbed Dorcas's arm, pulling her to her feet.

"You are not going to a shelter," Chadwick said. His voice was thick with an emotion Clara couldn't quite name. "This is your home."

Clara's expression remained cold, her silence a clear judgment. Chadwick saw her lack of sympathy and his jaw tightened. He turned his head and glared at Clara, his eyes full of accusation, as if Clara had been the one to suggest throwing them out on the street.

Clara didn't blink. She shifted Leo's weight on her hip.

She held up Leo's bleeding hand again.

"Who exactly is ruining the peace, Chadwick?" Clara asked.

Dorcas gasped. She slapped a hand over her mouth.

She took a step toward Leo and bowed her head repeatedly.

"I'm sorry, Leo. I'm so, so sorry," Dorcas whimpered.

Leo shrank back, burying his face in Clara's neck. The woman's intense, erratic behavior terrified him.

Chadwick let out a harsh breath.

"Stop it, Clara. You're scaring her," Chadwick said. "You're the woman of this house. Show some grace."

Clara let out a dry, humorless laugh.

"Grace?"

"Yes," Chadwick said, his tone shifting into a command. "Autumn is traumatized. I want you to go to the kitchen and make her dinner."

Clara stared at him. The air in her lungs felt suddenly thin.

"Make her that gluten-free organic mac and cheese," Chadwick continued. "The one that takes three hours. She needs something comforting. A mother's touch."

Clara looked at the antique clock on the hallway wall.

"It is nine o'clock at night," Clara said. "I just finished a marathon session with the estate trustees."

"Dorcas stayed awake for three days straight when I had pneumonia as a child," Chadwick fired back. He rubbed the heavy gold ring on his thumb. "She saved my life. The least you can do is show some empathy. You have a very comfortable life because of me."

Dorcas sniffled loudly. She reached out and lightly touched Chadwick's sleeve.

"It's okay, Chadwick," Dorcas whispered. "I'll just go boil some plain noodles for her. We don't want to be a burden."

The sheer manipulation in the woman's voice made bile rise in the back of Clara's throat.

Clara lowered Leo to his feet but kept a firm grip on his uninjured hand.

She walked over to the console table and picked up her Birkin bag.

"You're absolutely right, Dorcas," Clara said. Her voice was deadly calm. "You guys look like a beautiful family right now. We'll get out of your way."

Clara didn't wait for a response. She pulled open the heavy front door.

Clara gripped the brass handle of the front door.

The cold draft from the elevator corridor hit her face.

Chadwick lunged forward. His hand slammed against the doorframe, stopping her from pulling it open any further.

"Don't do this," Chadwick hissed. He kept his voice low so the staff wouldn't hear. "Do not throw a tantrum like a child."

Clara tilted her head. She looked him dead in the eye.

"I'm not the one demanding my exhausted wife cook a three-hour meal for a nanny's child," she whispered back.

Before Chadwick could respond, the swinging door to the kitchen pushed open.

Maura, the loyal elderly housekeeper who had been with Clara's family for decades, fiercely protective of Clara and Leo, stepped out carrying a silver tray.

Maura took one look at the tension at the front door and cleared her throat loudly.

"Dinner is served in the formal dining room, ma'am," Maura announced. Her eyes darted sharply toward Dorcas.

Clara exhaled slowly. She let go of the brass handle.

She wasn't going to make a scene in front of Maura.

"Come on, Leo," Clara said. She turned and walked toward the dining room.

The long mahogany table was set for five. The crystal glasses caught the light from the chandelier, and the silverware gleamed in perfect, intimidating rows. Five chairs were placed at even intervals, though the head of the table and the seat to its immediate right had always been understood as Chadwick's and Clara's.

Clara walked toward the head of the table. She stopped dead in her tracks.

Dorcas was already sitting in the chair to the immediate right of the head seat.

Clara's seat.

Dorcas looked up. Her eyes widened in exaggerated panic. She jumped up so fast her chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Mrs. Brewer. I wasn't thinking," Dorcas stammered, her hands fluttering to her collarbone.

Chadwick walked into the room. He placed a heavy hand on Dorcas's shoulder and pushed her gently back into the chair.

"Sit down, Dorcas," Chadwick said. He looked at Clara. "It's just dinner. We don't need to enforce archaic seating rules."

Clara didn't argue. She felt a strange numbness spreading through her chest.

She walked to the absolute furthest end of the long table and pulled out a chair for Leo, then sat beside him.

Maura brought out the main course. Beef Wellington.

Chadwick picked up his silver knife and fork. He sliced the thick, perfectly cooked meat on his plate into tiny, bite-sized pieces.

He didn't pass the plate to Leo.

He reached across the table and set the plate down in front of Autumn.

"Here you go, sweetie. Eat up," Chadwick said softly.

Leo stared down at his own plate. The large slice of meat sat there, oozing a little bit of red juice.

His small hands gripped his fork. They were shaking.

Leo slammed his fork down against the porcelain plate. The sharp clatter echoed in the quiet room.

"Why do you only cut her meat?" Leo yelled. His voice broke. "I need help too!"

Dorcas gasped and shrank back in her chair.

Chadwick slammed his hands flat onto the mahogany table.

"Do not raise your voice in this house!" Chadwick roared. "You are acting like a spoiled brat. Autumn doesn't have a father. You need to learn to share."

Tears spilled down Leo's cheeks.

"I don't have a father either!" Leo screamed back.

Chadwick's face turned purple. He raised his right hand, pulling it back as if he were going to strike the table again.

Clara moved faster than she ever had in her life.

Her chair screeched against the floor. She stood up and stepped in front of Leo, blocking him completely from Chadwick's line of sight.

Her eyes were black with rage.

She picked up Leo's plate.

"We are eating in his room," Clara said. Her voice was a low, dangerous hum.

She shot one look at Dorcas. The nanny quickly dropped her gaze, staring at her lap.

Clara grabbed Leo's hand and walked out of the dining room.

She didn't look back at the three of them sitting together. She didn't need to. The image was permanently burned into her brain.

In her own home, she and her son were the outsiders.