Chapter 1 - The Gates of Hell
"Yes, Miss Jenkins, the previous nanny was perfectly alive when she left," the woman from the placement agency answered with a nervous, dry chuckle over the phone.
"She simply required a few small stitches and a mild sedative to calm her shattered nerves."
Ruby Jenkins did not laugh at the grim attempt at humor.
She looked down at the bright pink eviction notice resting on her stained, sagging thrift-store mattress.
"Send me the address," Ruby said, her voice completely devoid of the terror she actually felt inside her chest.
"I will be there in exactly one hour."
She hung up the cracked screen of her prepaid cell phone and took a long, shaky breath of the damp apartment air.
She packed her few meager belongings into a battered canvas duffel bag.
She put on her only presentable outfit, the faded navy dress that pinched slightly around her waist.
Then, she took a long bus ride toward the wealthiest, most heavily guarded neighborhood in the entire state of Illinois.
The Romano estate in Highland Park did not look like a house; it looked like an impenetrable, modern fortress built of black steel and cold gray stone.
Massive wrought-iron gates swung open only after three terrifyingly large men in tailored suits inspected her cheap identification card.
She walked up the incredibly long, sweeping marble driveway, her worn-out shoes making a pathetic scuffing sound against the pristine stone.
When the heavy front doors finally opened, Ruby felt as though she were stepping directly into the terrifying mouth of a sleeping dragon.
The interior of the mansion was breathtakingly beautiful, but it was absolutely freezing, completely lacking any warmth or human joy.
A stern, older housekeeper named Maria silently escorted Ruby into a massive, dark wood library that smelled heavily of expensive leather and rich tobacco.
Sitting behind a massive mahogany desk was Vincent Romano, a man whose mere name made the toughest criminals in Chicago whisper in fear.
He was breathtakingly handsome, with sharp, aristocratic Italian features, thick dark hair, and eyes that looked like shattered black ice.
He looked at Ruby, his cold gaze sliding slowly over her faded dress, her soft round curves, and her cheap, scuffed shoes.
"You do not look like a woman who can survive my son," Vincent stated bluntly, his deep voice vibrating with absolute, terrifying authority.
"I have survived far worse things than a two-year-old child, Mister Romano," Ruby answered, keeping her chin held high despite the violent trembling in her hands.
Before Vincent could reply, a sudden, ear-piercing scream echoed from the grand hallway outside the library doors.
A tiny, dark-haired boy burst into the room like a tiny, destructive tornado.
The child, whose name was Leo, picked up a heavy wooden toy train from the carpet and hurled it with terrifying, aggressive force directly at Ruby.
The wooden edge struck her collarbone with a loud, sickening crack, leaving a blooming purple bruise beneath the thin fabric of her dress.
Vincent instantly stood up from his desk, his face twisting into a mask of pure, absolute fury as he prepared to summon the guards to remove the child.
But Ruby did not scream, she did not run, and she did not cry for help.
Instead, she slowly sank to her knees on the expensive Persian rug.
She lowered her body until she was perfectly eye to eye with the furious, violent little boy who had terrorized everyone in the city.
She opened her soft, welcoming arms, completely ignoring the painful throbbing in her chest.
Leo stopped screaming, staring at her with wide, wet, incredibly confused dark eyes.
For a long, suspended moment, the entire multi-million-dollar mansion went absolutely, completely silent.
Then, the child who had bitten, kicked, and bloodied every professional nanny in Chicago walked slowly forward.
May you like
He stepped directly into Ruby's embrace, wrapped his tiny arms tightly around her neck, and pressed a soft, wet kiss directly onto her nose.
Vincent Romano stopped breathing, staring at the poor, heavy-set maid on his floor as if she had just performed a literal, undeniable miracle.
