Chapter 2 - THE AIR THEY COULDN’T SEE
Nathan stared at the ventilation grate as though it had suddenly become a weapon.
“Get the boys downstairs,” he said.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
I stood up slowly.
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
The answer came sharply, but his eyes remained fixed on the four screws.
For the first time since I had arrived, Nathan Coleman looked frightened.
Not angry.
Not suspicious.
Frightened.
I went upstairs.
Jacob and Jonah were still on the bedroom floor with their wooden train.
“Come on, boys,” I said gently. “Your dad wants you downstairs.”
Jonah looked up.
“Are we in trouble?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
I smiled.
“Because I want hot chocolate.”
That worked.
They climbed to their feet.
Jacob reached for my hand.
His fingers were cold.
As we walked toward the stairs, I noticed something else.
Both boys were wearing small silver bracelets.
They looked old.
The bracelets had tiny engraved initials.
J.C.
J.C.
“Pretty,” I said.
Jonah touched his.
“Mom gave us these.”
Jacob nodded.
“She said they were lucky.”
Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten.
Their mother had died months earlier.
Yet her presence seemed to remain in every corner of the house.
Downstairs, Nathan was already speaking with his head of security.
“Lock the ventilation controls.”
The security chief, Marcus Bell, nodded.
“Entire system?”
“Entire property.”
Dr. Reeves came rushing into the room.
“What are you doing?”
Nathan turned.
“Shutting down the HVAC system.”
Reeves stared at him.
“Absolutely not.”
“My children are sick.”
“They have a diagnosed medical condition.”
“You have given me four different diagnoses in six months.”
Reeves went quiet.
Nathan stepped closer.
“And now my nanny thinks something in the ventilation may be contributing.”
Reeves looked at me.
“You're encouraging paranoia.”
“No,” I said. “I'm asking for testing.”
He gave a humorless smile.
“You have no medical training.”
“I don't need medical training to notice that the screws were recently replaced.”
Nathan looked at Marcus.
“Photograph the grate before anyone touches it.”
Marcus immediately obeyed.
Reeves shook his head.
“This is ridiculous.”
Nathan's expression hardened.
“Then you won't object to independent testing.”
That stopped him.
“Independent testing by whom?”
“Someone who isn't being paid by you.”
Reeves stared at Nathan for several seconds.
Then he picked up his briefcase.
“I won't participate in this circus.”
He walked away.
But before he reached the door, Jacob spoke.
“Daddy?”
Nathan turned immediately.
“Yes?”
“Can we go to Grandma's house?”
Nathan's face changed.
“Why?”
Jacob looked at the floor.
“Mommy used to take us there when the house smelled funny.”
Nobody spoke.
I looked at Nathan.
“What smell?”
Jacob shrugged.
“The sweet one.”
Nathan went completely still.
Jonah looked at his brother.
“You weren't supposed to say.”
“Why?”
“Because Daddy gets sad.”
Nathan crouched in front of them.
“Boys, what did your mother say about the smell?”
Jacob's little fingers tightened around his bracelet.
“She said not to tell anyone.”
My stomach dropped.
Nathan looked at me.
“Go on,” he whispered.
Jacob swallowed.
“Mommy said the house was making us sick.”
The room seemed to shrink.
Nathan slowly stood.
“My wife never told me that.”
Jonah looked confused.
“She tried.”
Nathan froze.
“What?”
Jonah pointed toward the hallway.
“She talked to Mr. Reeves.”
The words landed harder than anything else.
Dr. Reeves.
I remembered his reaction.
Not surprise.
Defensiveness.
Nathan immediately reached for his phone.
“Marcus.”
“Yes?”
“Find every service record for this house from the last eighteen months.”
Marcus nodded.
Nathan turned to me.
“Stay with the boys.”
That evening, the twins ate in the kitchen because Nathan refused to let them return upstairs.
He sat across from them without touching his food.
Jacob colored quietly.
Jonah pushed peas around his plate.
I noticed a drawing beside Jacob.
A house.
Two boys.
A woman standing outside.
And above the roof, a thick black cloud.
“What's that?” I asked.
Jacob covered it with his hand.
“Nothing.”
“It's okay.”
He hesitated.
“That's the bad air.”
Nathan heard him.
His fork dropped.
After dinner, Marcus returned.
He placed a folder on the table.
“Six ventilation service visits in the last year.”
Nathan opened it.
“Who authorized them?”
Marcus pointed.
“Dr. Reeves' medical foundation.”
Nathan's eyes narrowed.
“Why would a doctor authorize HVAC work?”
Marcus turned another page.
“He didn't exactly authorize it.”
“What does that mean?”
“The invoices were submitted through a company called Northstar Environmental.”
Nathan stared at the name.
“Who owns it?”
Marcus hesitated.
“We're still checking.”
Nathan stood.
“I want an environmental specialist here tonight.”
Marcus nodded.
“And nobody touches that vent.”
I looked at the boys.
They were watching their father.
For the first time, I saw something behind Nathan's intimidating reputation.
He wasn't afraid of losing money.
He wasn't afraid of enemies.
He was afraid that someone had been hurting his children while he was paying people to save them.
Later, I walked upstairs alone to retrieve the boys' pajamas.
The hallway was dark.
I stopped near the vent.
The sweet smell was stronger now.
I crouched without touching anything.
Then I noticed something beneath the grate.
A tiny white fiber.
I pulled out my phone and took a photograph.
Suddenly, I heard footsteps.
I turned.
Marcus stood at the end of the hallway.
“Mr. Coleman wants you downstairs.”
I nodded.
But before I moved, my eyes returned to the vent.
One of the screws was missing.
I looked at Marcus.
“Did anyone touch this?”
He frowned.
“No.”
I pointed.
“The screw was there earlier.”
Marcus walked toward me.
His expression changed when he saw it.
Then he reached into his pocket.
His phone rang.
He answered.
“Marcus.”
A pause.
Then his face went pale.
“What?”
He listened for several seconds.
Finally, he looked at me.
“Emily, you need to come downstairs.”
“What happened?”
He lowered the phone.
“The environmental technician just arrived.”
“And?”
Marcus swallowed.
“He says this isn't a ventilation problem.”
He looked toward the boys' bedrooms.
May you like
“He says somebody installed something inside the ductwork.”
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