Chapter 3 - The House of Ghosts
The Ashford estate in Westchester was not a home; it was a fortress carved out of grey stone and iron, nestled deep within three hundred acres of private woodland. High stone walls topped with security cameras surrounded the perimeter, and armed men in dark suits walked the grounds with German Shepherds on short leashes.
Willa stood in the center of the grand nursery on the second floor.
The room was vast, lined with custom wooden bookshelves, plush toys that looked untouched, and a massive bay window overlooking the misty gardens below. Despite the luxury, the room felt cold and sterile—like a museum dedicated to a child rather than a room lived in by one.
"She doesn't like the yellow dresses," a soft voice spoke from the doorway.
Willa turned to see Penny standing there, wearing a simple grey cotton nightgown. She held a small, threadbare toy rabbit by one ear. Titan trotted in behind her, immediately walking over to sit beside Willa's knees.
"The yellow dresses?" Willa asked gently, kneeling down on the hardwood floor so she was at eye level with the five-year-old.
Penny stepped closer, her tiny bare feet making no sound. She pointed toward the open walk-in closet, where dozens of expensive designer dresses hung in neat, color-coordinated rows.
"Miss Julianna brought them," Penny whispered, her voice fragile, like spun glass. "She said real princesses wear yellow. But yellow smells like sour milk."
A soft, warm chuckle escaped Willa's lips before she could stop it. "I agree. Yellow is a bit loud anyway. What color do you like?"
Penny looked at Willa's simple outfit—a dark blue sweater and jeans that Kendrick's staff had provided that morning. "Blue. Like the sea."
"Blue it is," Willa said.
For the next two hours, the grand fortress of the Ashford family echoed with a sound it hadn't heard in three long years: the light, bell-like laughter of a child.
Willa didn't force Penny to sit still or act like an heiress. She sat on the rug, helping the little girl build elaborate castles out of wooden blocks, while Titan lay nearby, acting as a furry wall for their fortress. Willa didn't push Penny to talk about her mother or her father. She simply listened, offering gentle warmth that the motherless child drank in like desert rain.
Standing outside the half-open door, hidden in the dim light of the corridor, Kendrick stood motionless.
Marcus, his right-hand man and chief of security, stood beside him, holding a thick black leather folder.
"We pulled her complete background, boss," Marcus whispered, leaning in so his voice wouldn't carry into the room. "Willa Vance. Twenty-four years old. Raised in an orphanage in South Jersey. No criminal record, no political affiliations, no ties to any of the rival families. She works three jobs to support an elderly woman named Martha who ran the home where she grew up."
Kendrick didn't take his eyes off the girl sitting on the floor. Willa was currently laughing as Penny tried to stack a block on Titan's nose.
"Is that all?" Kendrick asked.
Marcus hesitated, opening the folder. "Not quite. Five years ago, during the night the hospital was hit... when your wife was killed in the ambushed maternity wing..."
Kendrick's body went completely rigid. The air around him seemed to freeze instantly. "Speak."
"Willa Vance was an eighteen-year-old volunteer worker at Saint Jude's Hospital that night," Marcus revealed quietly. "She was in the nursery when the gunman stormed the floor. According to the old police reports that were buried by the precinct chief, a young female volunteer hid three newborns in the linen chute before the floor went up in flames."
Kendrick turned his head slowly, his grey eyes piercing Marcus like daggers. "Penny was in that nursery."
"Yes, boss," Marcus said, his voice trembling slightly. "Penny was infant Number 042. The records say the volunteer took a shrapnel wound to her shoulder protecting the cribs before the fire team arrived. But by the time your men cleared the building and retrieved Penny, the volunteer had vanished. There were no photos in the file."
Kendrick turned his gaze back to the room.
Through the opening, he watched Willa adjust her sweater, and for a split second, as the fabric shifted, he caught a glimpse of a faint, star-shaped scar on her left collarbone—a burn mark from an exploding oxygen tank.
Titan hadn't recognized her face. Titan had recognized her scent—the scent of the girl who had stayed in a burning room to shield a newborn baby while bullets flew through the glass.
And Penny... Penny didn't know the story, but her soul remembered the warmth that had held her in the dark while her mother died downstairs.
Before Kendrick could step into the room, a loud commotion echoed from the grand staircase below. Voices were raised, followed by the heavy footfalls of armed security trying to stop an intruder.
"Mr. Hayes, you cannot go up there!" a guard shouted.
May you like
Barrett Hayes swept past the security line, flanked by four heavily armed men wearing the crimson badges of the Hayes syndicate. He walked into the upper hallway, his eyes wild, holding a thick white envelope in his hand.
"Kendrick!" Barrett roared, his voice bouncing off the high ceilings. "I told you she was a rat! I told you!"
