A 4-Year-Old Girl Fell From a Million-Dollar Mansion’s Balcony Into an Infinity Pool! After the Servant Saved Her, She Kept Pointing Upstairs… But When He Saw Who Was Closing the Curtains, His Blood Ran Cold!

When Nora returned to the estate the following evening, the atmosphere inside the mansion was suffocating.

Arthur had succumbed to pure exhaustion, collapsing into a chemically induced sleep in his private study after two sleepless days. Victoria had wasted no time seizing operational control. She had dismissed Nora’s longtime day-nanny under the guise of "emotional instability" and had immediately installed a woman named Margaret—a stern, humorless woman in her late fifties with cold gray eyes and the demeanor of a prison warden.

Gabriel entered the nursery on the third floor carrying a tray of fresh broth and chamomile tea.

"You aren't authorized to be on this floor, groundskeeper," Margaret said instantly, rising from a high-backed armchair beside Nora’s canopy bed. Her arms were folded across her starched uniform.

"Mr. Bennett requested I oversee the domestic security and meals personally," Gabriel lied smoothly, keeping his voice level. "House policy. Check with the master if you have an issue."

Margaret’s lips thinned, but she stepped aside, eyeing him with deep suspicion.

Nora was sitting in the middle of her massive bed, dwarfed by pillows. She was clutching a worn velvet rabbit, her knees pulled tight against her chest. Her skin was still pale, and dark violet bruises circled her expressive eyes. When she saw Gabriel, a faint flicker of light pierced through her catatonic stare.

"Hey, little bird," Gabriel said gently, setting the tray on the nightstand. He knelt down so he was eye-level with her. "Brought you some soup. No chlorine, I promise."

A ghost of a smile touched the corner of Nora’s mouth, but it died instantly as her eyes darted toward Margaret, who remained standing by the doorway like an executioner.

Gabriel noticed a sketch pad lying open on the duvet. Beside it were several broken wax crayons. Gabriel reached out, gently turning the pad toward him.

What he saw made the hair on his arms stand up.

Children Nora’s age usually drew stick figures, distorted houses, and crooked yellow suns. But Nora’s drawing was a nightmare rendered in crimson and deep, toxic green.

In the center of the page was a large figure colored entirely in emerald silk—the exact shade of Victoria’s dress. The figure had no face, only two gaping black voids for eyes. The green monster had two elongated, claw-like hands. One hand was pushing a tiny yellow figure off a high ledge into blue water.

But it was the bottom corner of the drawing that made Gabriel’s stomach violently heave.

In the corner, submerged deep beneath black squiggly lines meant to represent water or darkness, was another figure. A woman with long brown hair, wearing a white dress, trapped inside a box with four wheels. A car. And standing above the water, holding a silver key, was the same emerald monster.

Julianna’s death.

The official police report from eighteen months ago had ruled Julianna Bennett’s death a tragic solo vehicle accident: her Mercedes SUV had lost braking power on the treacherous curves of Mulholland Drive, plunging two hundred feet down into an overgrown ravine. Nora had been in the backseat of that car. She had survived with scratches; her mother had died instantly upon impact.

Everyone had assumed the three-year-old child had blocked out the trauma. But Nora hadn't blocked it out. She had witnessed it.

"Nora," Gabriel whispered, keeping his back to Margaret. "Who is the green lady?"

Nora leaned forward, her tiny hand reaching out to touch Gabriel’s sleeve. She began to tremble so violently that her teeth chattered.

"She told Mommy to go to sleep," Nora whispered, the words barely louder than the hum of the air conditioner. "She took Mommy’s shoes. And then the car wouldn't stop."

"That is quite enough!" Margaret snapped, suddenly crossing the room and snatching the sketchbook out of Gabriel’s hands. "The child is delusional from the fever and the trauma. The doctors specifically stated that indulging her morbid fantasies will cause irreversible neurological regression. You need to leave. Now."

Gabriel rose slowly to his full height. He stood six-foot-two, broad-shouldered and battle-hardened, towering over the nanny. The air in the room instantly grew heavy with impending violence.

"Touch that child roughly," Gabriel said, his voice dropping into a register that was purely terrifying, "and you and I are going to have a conversation that neither of us will walk away from. Do you understand me?"

Margaret recoiled, her haughty facade cracking to reveal pure fear.

Gabriel turned back to Nora. He leaned down, placing his thumb gently against her cheek. "I’m not leaving you, Nora. No matter what happens in this house tonight. I am right outside that door."