A new job, a new house, new people, the same old duties. I walked down a wide hallway lined with paintings in dark gilt frames. Ahead of me was Claudia, a woman with perfect posture and the kind of cool, self-possessed look that let you know she ran the place.
She had introduced herself as the lady of the house. I tried to keep my breathing steady, casually adjusting the brooch pinned to my scrub top—my little good-luck charm—and hoping this day really would be a fresh start. Before coming here, I had spent hours online reading up on the man I’d been hired to care for.
Ilya Danilovich Sukhogorov had once been a shipping and port tycoon, the kind of man whose name made competitors nervous. But in recent years, the photos in the business pages showed only a shadow of that man. The money was still there, but life itself seemed to be draining out of him, leaving behind a bitter old wreck. We stepped into the living room.
“Uncle, take a look,” Claudia said. “I brought the new caregiver from the agency. Her name is Daria. They assured me she was their most capable and agreeable one.”
The old man, who had been sitting in his wheelchair with his back to us, slowly turned around. His eyes were dull and tired, and the corners of his tightly pressed mouth held the kind of irritation that comes from being angry at the whole world. I took a breath, ready to step forward and introduce myself properly as a licensed caregiver, but Claudia’s cold fingers closed around my forearm and stopped me.
Ilya Danilovich looked me over slowly, his gaze moving from my shoes upward. His pale eyes passed over me without much interest—until they stopped at my chest. He narrowed his eyes.
A chill ran down my back. I didn’t yet understand what had caught his attention. On my uniform, a flat little halibut brooch made of darkened silver gave off a faint shine. Two blue stones set as the fish’s eyes stared back at the old tycoon with calm indifference.
The old man suddenly leaned forward and pointed a shaking finger at it. “Where did you get that?” he rasped, and the sound of his voice sent a jolt straight through me. I froze.
My palms went damp at once. “It’s a brooch,” I said quietly, instinctively covering it with my hand….
