On the hallway side.
Locked.
Claire stared at it.
The house had been renovated before they purchased it. The old linen room had originally been part of a servant’s storage area, and the previous owner kept the antique surface bolt on the door for reasons Claire never understood.
She and Nathan had joked about removing it.
Apparently they had not.
Claire slid it back.
The door opened so quickly Lily nearly fell forward.
Claire dropped to her knees.
Her daughter threw herself into her arms.
“Mommy!”
Claire wrapped both arms around her.
Lily’s small body shook violently.
Her face was red.
Tears streaked both cheeks.
Her blond hair had partly come loose from its ponytail and stuck damply to her forehead.
Claire pulled back.
“Are you hurt?”
Lily shook her head.
“Did you fall?”
“No.”
“Can you breathe?”
“Yes.”
Claire touched her face.
“What happened?”
Lily started crying harder.
“I said sorry.”
Claire froze.
“For what?”
“I said sorry and Daddy didn't come.”
Claire stared at her daughter.
The hallway seemed to narrow.
“What do you mean?”
Lily pointed toward the linen room.
“Daddy said stay until I can be good.”
Claire did not understand the sentence.
Or perhaps she understood too quickly and wanted another version.
“What?”
Lily looked toward the stairs.
“He said I had to calm down.”
“How long were you in there?”
“I don't know.”
Claire held her.
“Where is Daddy?”
Lily looked frightened.
“Downstairs.”
Claire's chest tightened.
She had assumed Nathan was outside.
Garage.
Backyard.
Maybe shower.
Not downstairs while their daughter screamed behind a locked door.
Claire stood with Lily in her arms.
Five had become too old for carrying everywhere, but fear made children light in mothers’ arms.
She walked toward the stairs.
“Mommy.”
“Yes?”
“Don't tell Daddy I cried.”
Claire stopped.
The sentence frightened her more than the lock.
“Why?”
Lily buried her face against Claire’s shoulder.
“He says crying makes it longer.”
Claire closed her eyes.
For perhaps two seconds, Claire Mercer became a different person.
Not mother.
Not wife.
Not marketing director.
Not reasonable adult.
Just something hot and instinctive that wanted to run downstairs and break every object between herself and Nathan.
Then Lily shifted against her.
Claire opened her eyes.
Her daughter was watching.
That mattered more.
Claire kissed her forehead.
“You are not in trouble.”
Lily stared.
“At all.”
“But Daddy—”
“No.”
Claire kept her voice steady.
“You are not in trouble for crying.”
Lily's bottom lip shook.
“Okay.”
Footsteps came from downstairs.
Slow.
Then faster.
Nathan Mercer appeared at the bottom of the staircase.
He was forty-one, lean, dark-haired, dressed in a light blue button-down shirt and charcoal trousers. He had worked from home since losing his corporate finance job six months earlier and had spent most weekdays looking as though he might receive a video-call invitation at any moment.