Chapter 5 - THE THREAT AGAINST MY MOTHER"Call the hospital. Right now."
Matteo didn't raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
Gabriel was already reaching for his phone.
I stood in the living room holding the visitor sticker, struggling to understand how Rebecca Sloan had brought my mother into whatever was happening inside the Duca penthouse.
Leah clung to my sleeve.
"Mommy safe?" she asked.
I knelt beside her.
"I'm going to find out."
Her eyes filled with fear.
"You go?"
"Just to see my mother."
She looked at my bag.
I understood.
For Leah, a bag meant leaving.
A closed door meant punishment.
A promise meant something adults could break.
I placed my bag on the floor.
"Look, sweetheart. My things can stay here."
She studied it carefully.
"Come back?"
I wanted to promise immediately.
But I had learned enough about her in one afternoon to know that promises mattered.
"I'm going to do everything I can to come back tonight."
She watched my face.
Then she nodded.
Marisol came forward.
"Would you like to help me make some warm milk while Maya checks on her mother?"
Leah hesitated.
Then she reached for Marisol's hand.
Before leaving, I looked at Matteo.
"Please don't let her think she's being punished for telling us."
His expression tightened.
"I won't."
"And don't ask her to keep repeating what happened."
He nodded.
"I understand."
Gabriel returned from the hallway.
"I've spoken with the hospital's nursing supervisor. Miss Torres, your mother is safe and resting. They're aware of the threatening message, and hospital security is reviewing visitor access."
My knees almost gave way.
"Thank God."
"An officer can meet us there to take a report. We should go now."
Matteo looked at me.
"I'll remain with Leah. Gabriel will drive you, and I'll arrange independent legal assistance if you want it. You shouldn't have to navigate threats like this alone."
I stared at him.
"Why would you do that for me?"
He looked toward the little girl at the kitchen counter.
"Because someone has used your mother to threaten you over what happened to my daughter."
He paused.
"And because I should have protected my own family before anyone else had to."
Forty minutes later, I walked into Mercy Harbor Medical Center.
The familiar smell of antiseptic immediately tightened my chest.
I'd spent too many nights in those corridors.
Too many mornings waiting for doctors.
Too many afternoons watching my mother pretend she wasn't worried about the money.
Gabriel stayed near the security desk while I went upstairs.
When I entered Room 614, my mother was sitting against her pillows, reading an old mystery novel.
She looked up.
"Maya?"
I crossed the room and hugged her.
She laughed softly.
"Goodness, baby. What's wrong?"
I held her tighter.
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
She pulled back and examined my face.
"You're scaring me."
"Did a woman named Rebecca Sloan visit you yesterday?"
My mother's smile vanished.
"Yes."
"What did she want?"
"She said she worked with patient resources."
"What did she ask?"
My mother frowned.
"Mostly about you."
My stomach tightened.
"What about me?"
"Whether you were working. Whether you were still worried about the bills. Whether you had any other family who could help."
I sat slowly.
"Did she ask where I was going to work?"
"She said she'd heard you had a promising interview."
I closed my eyes.
My mother reached for my hand.
"Maya, what's happened?"
I told her everything.
Not all at once.
I couldn't.
I told her about Leah.
The blue room.
The recordings.
The threatening message.
As I spoke, my mother's expression changed from confusion to horror.
When I finished, she remained silent.
Then she took both my hands.
"Listen to me."
I looked up.
"You are not going to let anyone use me to force you into something."
"Mom, they're threatening you."
"I know."
"You don't understand how powerful these people are."
She gave me a sad smile.
"Baby, I've cleaned offices for people who thought the world belonged to them. Money makes some people powerful. It doesn't make them right."
I felt tears rising.
"What if something happens to you?"
She squeezed my fingers.
"Then we'll take precautions. We'll work with the hospital and the police. But you don't get to surrender your conscience because someone has money."
I bowed my head.
She touched my cheek.
"That little girl needs adults who tell the truth."
"I know."
"And you need to protect yourself, too."
I nodded.
She smiled.
"Those things can happen together."
A knock interrupted us.
The hospital nursing supervisor entered with Gabriel and a uniformed officer.
They explained that hospital security had confirmed something unusual.
Rebecca Sloan was not employed by Mercy Harbor Medical Center.
She had obtained visitor access by presenting herself as a representative of an outside patient-assistance organization.
The organization was called Bright Harbor Family Services.
Gabriel looked at me.
"Have you heard of it?"
I shook my head.
The officer showed me a copy of the visitor registration.
My mother's name was listed.
So was mine.
Under relationship, Rebecca had written one word.
Coordinator.
"Coordinator of what?" I asked.
Nobody answered.
The nursing supervisor explained that the hospital would preserve its relevant visitor records and cooperate with investigators.
My mother was offered additional privacy protections and an opportunity to restrict visitors.
She accepted.
I was grateful.
But when everyone finally left, she reached toward the bedside drawer.
"There's something else."
She removed a small white envelope.
"Rebecca left this."
I stared at it.
"Did you open it?"
"No. She said it was for you if you accepted the job."
My heart began pounding.
I put the envelope on the table and photographed it before opening it carefully.
Inside was a cashier's check.
Twenty-five thousand dollars.
My name appeared on the payee line.
Beneath it was a printed document.
Caregiver Incident Compensation Agreement.
I scanned the first paragraph.
My hands began shaking.
The agreement stated that I had personally witnessed dangerous and uncontrolled behavior by Leah Duca.
It included a promise not to disclose the circumstances of my employment.
And it required me to cooperate with any legal proceeding concerning Matteo's fitness as a parent.
At the bottom was a signature line.
My signature line.
The document had been prepared before I'd even met Leah.
My mother stared at me.
"What is it?"
I couldn't answer.
I handed the document to Gabriel when he returned.
He read it carefully.
His expression hardened.
"They expected you to sign this after the incident."
I thought of the train.
Leah's fist.
The scratches on the previous nanny's face.
The stories of fourteen women who had fled.
Then I looked at the check.
Twenty-five thousand dollars.
Enough to pay my mother's most urgent bills.
Enough to keep us in our apartment.
Enough to let me sleep without calculating medication costs.
For one horrible second, I understood how easily desperation could be turned into a weapon.
Then I thought of Leah trembling beside the blue room.
"No," I whispered.
Gabriel looked at me.
"What?"
"I'm not signing."
He nodded.
"We'll preserve it as evidence."
My mother smiled through her tears.
"That's my girl."
But the worst discovery came a few minutes later.
While reviewing the paperwork, Gabriel noticed a second sheet folded behind the agreement.
It contained a list of caregiver names.
Fourteen names had dates beside them.
And every name had a dollar amount.
The final line was blank except for two words.
Maya Torres.
Beside my name was the largest amount on the page.
Fifty thousand dollars.
Underneath it, someone had written:
Final witness. Obtain signature before Friday's hearing.
I stared at the words.
They hadn't brought me into the penthouse to help Leah.
They had brought me there to become the last piece of evidence against her father.
May you like
And if I refused, they had already decided where to apply the pressure.
My mother.
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