Chapter 5 - The Nanny’s Ledger
By 4:00 AM, Ivy was deeply asleep in her crib, her small fingers tucked beneath her cheek. Mara stood by the window of the guest suite Roman had assigned her on the second floor. The room was beautiful—lined with pale cream silk and antique French furniture—but it felt like a gilded cage. Every exit was monitored by men with short haircuts and heavy jackets.
She pulled her grandmother’s journal from her backpack. She hadn't left it at the apartment; she had been smart enough to bring it with her, knowing that a house left empty in New Orleans was a house that would be turned upside down by sunrise.
She turned to the page with the chemical notations.
Digitalis-K. Batch number 404.
Mara’s eyes widened as she connected the dots from her pharmacology classes. Batch 404 wasn't a standard hospital supply. It was an experimental cardiac stimulant manufactured by a private pharmaceutical lab in Metairie—a lab owned by a holding company called Vance Logistics.
The same name from the stories she had heard at Ruby’s Diner. Vance Logistics was the front company used by the Falco family to move black-market medical supplies through the Port of New Orleans.
A soft knock on the door made her slide the journal beneath the mattress.
"Come in," she said.
The door opened, and a woman in a gray housekeeper's uniform entered. She was sixty, with sharp, bird-like eyes and hair pinned so tightly it pulled the skin around her temples. This was Mrs. Gable, the head nanny who had been with the Vale family since before Ivy was born.
"You shouldn't be here, child," Mrs. Gable said, her voice a low, dry hiss as she closed the door behind her. "You think because the master looks at you with soft eyes that you’re safe? This house eats girls like you. Clara Vale thought she could change him, too. Look where she is now. In a marble box in Metairie No. 1."
Mara stood straight, her back against the window. "I’m not trying to change anyone, Mrs. Gable. I’m here because a little girl called me 'Mama' and I wanted to make sure she didn't wake up alone."
Mrs. Gable let out a short, bitter laugh. "She called you 'Mama' because you smell like the soap her mother used to wash her skin with. The lavender soap Evelyn Ellison brought from the hospital pharmacy. It wasn't a miracle, girl. It was a memory. And if you’re smart, you’ll take your backpack and walk out the service gate before Roman finds out what your grandmother really did with that file."
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"What did she do?" Mara asked, stepping forward.
"She sold it," Mrs. Gable whispered, her eyes darting toward the hallway. "She didn't take it to protect Clara. She took it because the Falco family offered her fifty thousand dollars to make sure the original night manifest never reached the grand jury. Your grandmother was a thief, Mara. Just like the rest of us."
