Chapter 3
I wanted to run upstairs and demand answers.
But Lily was trembling.
And for once, I understood that my anger couldn't come before her safety.
I sat beside her at the table.
"Sweetheart, look at me."
She slowly raised her eyes.
"You're safe telling me."
Her lips shook.
"Promise?"
I nodded.
"Whatever happened, you are not in trouble."
She stared at her hands.
Then whispered, "She takes me to clean houses."
For several seconds, I couldn't understand what I'd heard.
"Clean houses?"
Lily nodded.
"Other people's houses."
My chest tightened.
"What do you mean?"
She swallowed.
"Natasha says I have to help her business."
I knew Natasha had a small home-staging and cleaning company.
She told me it was mostly consulting.
Occasionally, she hired cleaners for wealthy clients preparing their homes for sale.
She insisted she didn't need my financial help.
I respected that.
I was proud of her independence.
Now I was staring at my daughter, trying to understand what she was telling me.
"Does she make you work?"
Lily nodded.
"Sometimes we vacuum. Sometimes we scrub bathrooms."
I felt dizzy.
"Who does the cleaning with you?"
"Sometimes another lady."
"What lady?"
"Miss Carla."
I took a slow breath.
"Does Natasha clean too?"
Lily shook her head.
"She talks to the people who own the houses."
My hands curled into fists beneath the table.
"How long do you stay?"
"Sometimes all day."
"Does she pay you?"
Lily looked confused.
"No."
"Does she give you lunch?"
Her eyes filled.
"Sometimes."
I stared at the half sandwich she'd carried inside.
My beautiful little girl.
The child whose mother died when she was four.
The child who still slept with her mother's blue blanket.
The child who once told me she wanted to become a veterinarian because animals never judged people.
My daughter had been working in strangers' homes while I believed she was attending art classes.
I remembered paying Natasha for those classes.
Every month.
One hundred and eighty dollars.
She said Lily loved them.
She sent me photographs of colorful drawings.
Now I wondered where those pictures came from.
"Lily, what happened to your art lessons?"
She looked confused.
"What art lessons?"
My stomach dropped.
"The Saturday classes."
She shook her head.
"I don't go to art class."
I closed my eyes.
For months, Natasha had lied about everything.
I pulled out my phone and called my older sister, Renee.
She answered immediately.
"Marcus?"
My voice trembled.
"I need you."
She went quiet.
"What's wrong?"
"It's Lily."
Within twenty minutes, Renee arrived.
She was forty-six, a social worker with a calm voice and the kind of patience I had never mastered.
The moment she saw Lily, her expression changed.
"Hey, sweetheart."
Lily ran into her arms.
"Aunt Renee!"
Renee hugged her.
Then looked at me over Lily's shoulder.
She knew something was wrong.
I waited until Lily finished eating before explaining.
Renee listened carefully.
She didn't interrupt.
When I finished, her eyes were filled with tears.
"Marcus, we need to make sure Lily is safe."
I nodded.
"I know."
She looked at my daughter.
"Sweetheart, would you like to sit with me in the living room?"
Lily nodded.
They moved to the sofa.
Renee asked gentle questions.
Not too many.
She let Lily speak in her own words.
I stayed nearby, trying to control my anger.
Lily explained that Natasha took her to different houses on Saturdays.
Sometimes she worked for two hours.
Sometimes six.
One woman told her she was a very hardworking little girl.
Another asked why she wasn't at home playing.
Natasha answered that Lily needed to learn responsibility.
Lily said she was usually told to stay quiet.
Then Renee asked whether anyone had hurt her.
Lily hesitated.
My chest tightened.
"Baby?"
She looked toward me.
Then whispered, "Natasha squeezes my arm when I make mistakes."
I felt the room spinning.
Renee gently asked whether Lily had any injuries.
Lily pulled up her sleeve.
There were faint bruises near her upper arm.
I stared at them.
My breath disappeared.
"Who did that?"
Lily began crying.
"She got mad because I broke a glass."
I stood so suddenly that the coffee table shook.
Renee looked at me.
"Marcus."
I stopped.
She gave me a firm look.
"Stay with us."
I took a breath.
Then another.
Lily was watching me.
I couldn't frighten her further.
I sat beside her.
"I'm sorry, princess."
She shook her head.
"I'm sorry I broke the glass."
My eyes filled.
"No."
I pulled her gently into my arms.
"You don't deserve to be hurt because something breaks."
She cried against my chest.
I held her until her breathing slowed.
Then Renee told me we needed to document what Lily had disclosed and seek professional guidance.
I agreed.
A child-protection report would be made.
Lily's doctor would examine her.
And we would speak with an attorney about keeping her safe.
I looked toward the staircase.
Natasha was still upstairs.
Packing.
Or pretending to pack.
I didn't care anymore.
I stood and called her.
She appeared at the top of the stairs.
"What now?"
I looked directly at her.
"Did you take Lily to clean houses?"
Her expression changed.
Only for a second.
Then she smiled.
"Oh, that."
My stomach twisted.
"Answer me."
"She helped out occasionally."
I stared at her.
"She's ten years old."
Natasha rolled her eyes.
"You're acting like I sent her into a coal mine."
Renee stood.
"Natasha, this is serious."
My wife looked at her.
"Oh, wonderful. The judgmental sister is here."
I stepped forward.
"Did you take money for Lily's work?"
Natasha stopped smiling.
I saw it immediately.
Fear.
Not guilt.
Fear of being caught.
May you like
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
"Marcus, you should probably check the business account before you start accusing me."
