Chapter 2 - The Sound of Storms
Silence was the last thing Arthur found.
The house was alive.
Laughter exploded from the main living room down the corridor.
Not polite, restrained laughter.
Not the occasional, quiet giggle of a child playing with an expensive educational tablet.
This was wild.
Messy.
Uncontrolled.
It was the kind of deafening, breathless laughter that only young children could create when they were entirely unburdened by fear.
For one terrifying second, Arthur’s heart jumped into his throat.
His hand instinctively tightened around his briefcase.
Something was wrong.
Had one of the boys fallen?
Were they hurt?
Had an accident occurred while he was away at the office?
He abandoned his briefcase, his leather dress shoes clicking rapidly against the polished oak floor as he hurried toward the living room.
He rounded the corner, bracing himself for chaos, ready to intervene, ready to take command.
Then he stopped.
Completely frozen on the threshold.
The scene in front of him made no logical sense.
The new nanny—a quiet, soft-spoken twenty-four-year-old woman named Clara whom he had hired two weeks ago as a last resort—was lying flat across the expensive cream wool carpet.
His first immediate instinct was pure, instinctual panic.
He thought she had fainted. He thought she was injured.
May you like
Then he heard it.
Her laughter.
