Chapter 2 - THE BABY SHE HAD BEEN HIDING FOR THREE MONTHS
“Three months.”
Gabriel repeated the words as if they belonged to a language he no longer understood.
Hannah Price stood ten feet away, both hands pressed tightly together in front of her.
The baby slept against Gabriel’s shoulder.
One tiny fist was still tangled in his silk tie.
“How,” he asked carefully, “have you been bringing a baby into my penthouse for three months without me knowing?”
Hannah lowered her eyes.
“I use the service entrance.”
“I have security on the service entrance.”
“They know me.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I come in at seven.”
“So?”
“You usually don’t leave your bedroom before eight-thirty.”
Gabriel stared.
Hannah swallowed.
“I put her in the laundry sitting room. She sleeps there until about ten. Then I feed her. She sleeps again around noon. I schedule vacuuming around her naps.”
Gabriel’s expression became almost offended.
“You scheduled my housekeeping around a baby?”
“Yes.”
“And nobody told me?”
“No.”
“What about the kitchen?”
Hannah hesitated.
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed.
“Hannah.”
“Mrs. Alvarez knows.”
His chef.
Of course.
“Anyone else?”
“Thomas knows.”
“The doorman?”
“He saw the stroller once.”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
Three employees.
A woman carrying an infant through one of the most heavily guarded residential buildings in Manhattan.
And not one person thought it necessary to mention it.
Either his security was terrible, which he knew wasn’t true, or his staff had collectively decided Hannah’s baby needed protection more than Gabriel’s rules needed obedience.
That realization irritated him.
It also interested him.
The baby shifted.
Gabriel went rigid.
Hannah immediately took one step forward.
“I can take her.”
He looked down.
The child’s cheek was flattened against his chest.
Her lips had parted slightly.
She smelled like baby powder and something sweet.
Maybe apples.
Gabriel had no idea what babies were supposed to smell like.
“Her name?” he asked.
Hannah stopped.
“Lucy.”
Gabriel looked at the sleeping child.
“Lucy what?”
“Price.”
“Your daughter?”
The question changed Hannah’s face.
Pain appeared so quickly that Gabriel regretted asking before she even answered.
“No.”
He waited.
“My niece.”
Gabriel looked at her again.
“Where are her parents?”
Hannah’s eyes filled.
“My sister died three months ago.”
The hallway suddenly felt too quiet.
Gabriel knew death.
He had seen it in alleys.
Hospitals.
Warehouses.
On men’s faces before they realized the person across the table had already decided their future.
But Hannah’s grief was different.
Small.
Contained.
Practiced.
The kind a person carried while still having to buy diapers and arrive for work by seven.
“What happened?”
“Car accident.”
“When?”
“April third.”
Gabriel thought back.
Three months.
Exactly.
“And the father?”
Hannah looked away.
“Gone.”
“Dead?”
“I don’t know.”
That got his attention.
“You don’t know?”
“My sister never put his name on the birth certificate.”
“Why?”
“She said it was safer.”
The word safer made something shift in Gabriel.
“Safer from whom?”
Hannah shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe your sister had a child with an unidentified man, hid his name, died in a car accident, and now you’re bringing the baby secretly into my home because daycare is inconvenient?”
Hannah flinched.
“No.”
“Then explain the part you’re leaving out.”
Her eyes lifted.
For the first time, fear appeared.
Not fear of Gabriel.
Fear of saying something.
He knew the difference.
Gabriel had made a career from knowing when people were afraid of him and when they were afraid of somebody else.
“Hannah.”
She looked toward Lucy.
“I didn’t bring her here because I couldn’t find daycare.”
“Why did you?”
“Because someone broke into my apartment.”
Gabriel’s expression changed.
“When?”
“The week after my sister died.”
“What was taken?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why call it a break-in?”
“Because the lock was broken and every drawer was open.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened.
“What were they looking for?”
“I don’t know.”
“Police?”
“I reported it.”
“And?”
“They said it looked like burglary.”
“But nothing was stolen.”
“No.”
“Again?”
Hannah nodded.
“Two weeks later.”
Gabriel’s face became cold.
“Same thing?”
“No.”
“What changed?”
“They opened Lucy’s formula cans.”
Silence.
Gabriel slowly looked down at the child sleeping on his shoulder.
“Anything else?”
“Her diaper boxes. Her clothing drawers. Her stroller lining.”
Someone had not been searching for jewelry.
They had been searching around the baby.
Gabriel’s mind began organizing details automatically.
“Third incident?”
Hannah’s lips parted.
“How did you know?”
“People who do something twice usually do it three times.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Six weeks ago.”
“What happened?”
“They didn’t get inside.”
“Why?”
“My neighbor saw the man at the door.”
“Description?”
“Baseball cap. Dark jacket. She couldn’t see his face.”
Gabriel looked at Hannah.
“And after that you started bringing Lucy here.”
“Yes.”
“Because you thought my penthouse was safer.”
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
“You could have told me.”
Hannah laughed once.
It was not amused.
“Mr. Marlowe, you fired a florist because he delivered peonies instead of white roses.”
“He was given a written order.”
“You threatened to replace the elevator company because the doors opened too slowly.”
“Three seconds is not an acceptable delay.”
“You told the staff no children were ever allowed on the residential floors.”
Gabriel frowned.
“That rule exists for security.”
“I know.”
“So you hid one?”
“I needed the job.”
Her voice broke.
“And I needed somewhere nobody could get to her.”
There it was.
The truth.
Not manipulation.
Desperation.
Gabriel looked toward the row of elevators.
Fourteen floors below, Manhattan continued moving without caring that an exhausted housekeeper had been hiding an orphaned baby inside the laundry room of a man who claimed to know everything happening under his own roof.
“What did you mean when you said not to call anyone?”
Hannah’s eyes filled.
“Child services.”
“Why would I call child services?”
“I don’t know.”
Gabriel almost laughed.
She continued.
“I only have temporary guardianship. My apartment is small. My sister left debts. I’m behind on two bills. If I lose my job—”
“They don’t remove babies because an aunt loses a housekeeping job.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
That honesty stopped him.
“I don’t know anything anymore.”
Lucy stirred between them.
Her eyes opened.
She blinked at Gabriel.
Then smiled.
No fear.
Again.
Gabriel frowned at her.
“You have terrible instincts.”
Lucy grabbed his tie harder.
Hannah’s mouth twitched.
“Apparently.”
Gabriel should have handed the child back.
Instead, he asked:
“Where does she sleep?”
Hannah’s face changed.
“At home?”
“Here.”
Silence.
“Hannah.”
She looked embarrassed.
“There’s a small sofa in the laundry sitting room.”
Gabriel stared.
“No crib?”
“I bring a portable one.”
“Show me.”
Five minutes later, Gabriel Marlowe stood inside a laundry room he had not entered in at least four years.
He owned the entire floor.
He had never noticed the narrow sitting area behind the linen storage.
There was a folded portable crib beneath a table.
A diaper bag hidden inside a wicker laundry basket.
Three jars of baby food behind the detergent.
A pink blanket tucked into a cabinet.
And taped inside the cabinet door was a handwritten schedule.
7:15 — BOTTLE.
9:30 — NAP.
11:00 — PEARS.
12:15 — BOTTLE.
1:00 — NAP.
Gabriel stared at it.
Three months of a life occurring in secret less than sixty feet from his office.
Lucy reached for the paper.
“No.”
Gabriel moved it out of reach.
She immediately tried again.
“This child has no respect for authority.”
Hannah laughed.
The sound surprised both of them.
For a second, something changed.
Then Hannah’s face became serious.
“I’ll leave today.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“No.”
She blinked.
“No?”
“You’re not fired.”
“You said—”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You’re angry.”
“Yes.”
“At me.”
“Partially.”
Hannah looked worried.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m more interested in whoever searched your apartment.”
Her face drained.
Gabriel handed Lucy back.
The moment the baby left his arms, his shoulder felt strangely empty.
He ignored that.
“Pack the diaper bag.”
Hannah stared.
“Why?”
“You’re not taking her back to that apartment.”
“What?”
“Your apartment has been compromised.”
“I can’t just—”
“You can stay here.”
Her eyes widened.
“No.”
Gabriel almost smiled.
“No?”
“I mean—thank you, but no.”
“Why?”
“Because this is your home.”
“And?”
“I work for you.”
“That seems to be the reason you’re already here twelve hours a day.”
“That’s different.”
He looked toward the makeshift crib.
“No. This is ridiculous.”
Hannah’s face hardened.
“You can’t decide where Lucy and I live.”
Gabriel went completely still.
Most people heard his tone and surrendered.
Hannah Price had apparently spent three months smuggling an infant past his security and had now decided it was a good time to establish boundaries.
Interesting.
“You’re right.”
She blinked.
Gabriel continued.
“I can’t decide.”
The words felt strange in his mouth.
“So I’m asking you to stay until I understand who has been looking for something connected to your niece.”
Hannah stared.
Then Lucy smacked her hand against Hannah’s chest.
Gabriel looked at the child.
“She votes yes.”
“She’s eight months old.”
“She has strong opinions.”
Hannah almost smiled.
Then her expression collapsed again.
“There’s something else.”
Of course.
Gabriel was beginning to hate those words.
“What?”
Hannah looked around the small room.
“My sister left a bag.”
“What bag?”
“Lucy’s hospital bag.”
“Where?”
“At my apartment.”
“Did anyone search it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why?”
“Because I brought it to work the morning after the first break-in.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“Where is it?”
Hannah opened the bottom drawer beneath folded towels.
A faded yellow diaper bag sat behind the linens.
She pulled it out.
Gabriel placed it on the table.
Inside were ordinary things.
Baby clothes.
A hospital bracelet.
Two photographs.
A pacifier.
A stuffed white rabbit.
Lucy immediately reached toward the rabbit.
Hannah gave it to her.
The baby squeezed it.
Something crackled.
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed.
“What’s inside that?”
“Stuffing?”
“No.”
He held out his hand.
Lucy refused.
Gabriel stared.
Lucy stared back.
Hannah covered a laugh.
“Good luck.”
After thirty seconds of negotiation that Gabriel would later deny ever happened, he traded Lucy a silver pen for the rabbit.
The child accepted.
Gabriel examined the toy.
One seam along its back had been hand-stitched.
Not factory stitching.
He looked at Hannah.
“Did you do this?”
“No.”
He found a letter opener.
Carefully cut two threads.
Inside the stuffing was a small plastic envelope.
Hannah stopped breathing.
Gabriel pulled it out.
A photograph.
A folded note.
He opened the photograph first.
A woman who looked like Hannah stood outside a café.
Her sister.
Beside her was a man holding newborn Lucy.
Gabriel forgot how to breathe.
The man was younger in the photograph.
Hair slightly longer.
Smile easier.
But Gabriel knew that face.
He had known it from childhood.
Known it covered in blood after fights.
Known it laughing across family dinners.
Known it furious during the last argument they ever had.
His younger brother.
Michael Marlowe.
Dead eleven months.
Gabriel’s fingers began shaking.
Hannah stared at him.
“What?”
He couldn’t answer.
“You know him?”
Gabriel unfolded the note.
Melissa’s handwriting covered only three lines.
HANNAH—
IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO ME, LUCY GOES TO GABRIEL.
MICHAEL SAID HIS BROTHER WOULD KEEP HER SAFE ONCE HE KNEW THE TRUTH.
Gabriel looked at the baby chewing happily on his silver pen.
Then at the photograph again.
His dead brother holding her.
Lucy Marlowe.
Not Price.
Marlowe.
May you like
His niece.
And somewhere inside the hallway, a security alarm began to sound.
