Chapter 3 - Rules of the Fortress
By five o'clock that evening, Clare’s life had been completely upended.
She had driven back to Hartford, packed everything she and Rosie owned into four battered cardboard boxes, and cleared out of their cramped apartment. When she pulled the Honda Civic back through the iron gates of the Ricci estate, the sun was sinking below the tree line, casting long, bloody shadows across the stone facade of the manor.
Rosie sat in the passenger seat, her small fingers gripping her favorite stuffed rabbit, Barnaby. Her wide, brown eyes were pressed against the glass.
"Mommy," Rosie whispered, her voice full of awe. "Is this a castle? Are we living in a museum?"
"It’s just a house, sweetie," Clare said, though her own heart was hammering against her ribs. "A very big house. Remember what we talked about? Mommy has a very important job here. We have to be on our best behavior."
"I will be," Rosie promised solemnly.
Henry Brandt met them at the side entrance, bypassing the grand foyer. He led them up a narrow service staircase to the west wing, far away from Dante Ricci’s private quarters. The rooms assigned to them were larger than their entire Hartford apartment. There was a bedroom for Clare, a smaller adjoining room for Rosie, a private bathroom with marble tiles, and a small sitting area with a window overlooking the manicured gardens.
"Your daughter will eat her meals here or in the staff dining room," Henry explained, setting down Clare’s two heaviest boxes. "The boys are currently in the schoolroom completing their evening tutoring. You will take over their schedule starting tomorrow at exactly six in the morning."
Clare looked around the beautiful room, feeling an immense wave of relief mixed with profound dread. "Mr. Brandt, what happened to their mother?"
Henry’s expression froze, turning into a mask of pure ice.
Rule NumberThe Unspoken Protocols of the Ricci EstateRule 1Never ask about the late Mrs. Ricci.Rule 2Never enter the third-floor private study.Rule 3Never question the security personnel or their weapons.Rule 4Ensure the triplets are in bed before the Don returns at night.
"The late Mrs. Ricci passed away three years ago," Henry said, his voice dropping into a formal, rehearsed tone. "That is all you need to know, Ms. Beaumont. Do not ask the boys about her. Do not ask the staff. And under no circumstances do you bring up her name to Mr. Ricci."
"Understood," Clare said, absorbing the warning.
"One more thing," Henry added, pausing at the doorway. "Twenty-two nannies left because the boys are wild. But they aren't just wild because they are spoiled, Ms. Beaumont. They are wild because they are terrified. In this house, fear is an infectious disease. Don't let it catch you."
After Henry left, Clare helped Rosie unpack her books. They had just finished making Rosie’s bed with the crisp, expensive white linens provided by the estate when a loud, rhythmic thumping sounded from the hallway outside their door.
Clare opened it to find the triplets standing in a neat line. They had changed into matching navy pajamas, but their expressions were still unified in mischief. Leo held a plastic lightsaber, Asher had a jar of what looked like live crickets, and Nico was holding a notebook.
"We came to see the intruder," Leo declared, peering past Clare’s waist.
Before Clare could answer, Rosie stepped out from behind her mother's legs. She was wearing her oversized pink pajama shirt with cartoon cats on it, holding her ragged stuffed rabbit. She looked at the three identical boys, her eyes sparkling with immediate interest.
"Are you the monsters my mommy is supposed to take care of?" Rosie asked directly.
Asher blinked, completely derailed by her bluntness. He lifted the jar of crickets. "We have bugs. We're going to put them in your shoes."
Rosie walked right up to him, looked at the jar, and tapped the glass. "One of them is missing a leg. If you leave them in a jar without air holes, they’ll suffocate. That’s bad science."
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The triplets looked at each other, entirely unsure of how to handle a seven-year-old girl who didn't cry, scream, or run away.
"Come inside," Clare said, hiding her smile as she stepped back. "Let's see if your science is as good as your map-making."
