I scrambled under the bed, watching the figure slip into the room.
It was the nanny.
The fact that Damian and Melody could roam the Fitzgerald mansion so brazenly was a testament
to something off about the nanny.
Since arriving at the Fitzgerald estate, we''d simply called her Wendy. She''d been my and Dexter''s
personal caregiver, always close at hand.
Wendy was 48, always dressed in in, no-frills clothes that made her seem older than she was.
Yet, beneath the simplicity, you could tell she had been a stunner in her youth, with delicate features
that time hadn''t fully erased.
She had a gentle demeanor and a sharp mind, rarely speaking out of turn. Hailey trusted her
implicitly, which is why she feltfortable leaving both me and Dexter in Wendy''s care.
From my hiding spot under the bed, I watched silently.
Wendy moved slowly to the bedside, gazing at Dexter as hey asleep, not uttering a word.
I frowned, alert and wary. A nanny sneaking into the master''s room in the dead of night, staring at
him like that—it was downright eerie.
"Wendy, who are you trying to spook, up and about at this hour?" Melody''s voice came from the
doorway, catching Wendy off guard.
The room was dim, and Wendy''s silhouette by the bed was indeed a bit unsettling.
"Those meds... they''re not harming Mr. Fitzgerald, are they?" Wendy finally spoke, her voice barely
above a whisper.
"Phoebe''s death hit Dexter hard, and he''s been prone to depression. If you hadn''t found him that
time he attempted..." Melody sighed. "We''re just looking out for him."
Wendy nodded. "That''s good. I just worry about Mr. Fitzgerald. Ms. Burton, you should get some
rest too."
Wendy turned to leave, pausing at the door.
Perhaps it was my imagination, but I felt her gaze linger in my direction...
I clenched my fists and held my breath, daring not to make a sound.
Everyone in the Fitzgerald family seemed increasingly inscrutable to me.
Ironically, Dexter, once the most enigmatic, now seemed the most transparent.
Property belongs to N?vel(D)r/ama.Org.
"Dexter... don''t me me... it was you who involved me first, asking for my help to shake off
Phoebe, saying she was always clinging to you. I helped you, now it''s your turn to help me," Melody
sat on the edge of the bed, gently touching Dexter''s face. "Dexter, I truly love you. Do you know
how jealous I was of Phoebe? Why did she gain your mother''s approval and not me? Am I inferior
to her? If it weren''t for your mother''s disapproval, we might already be engaged, or even married.
Did I have to resort to extremes... I even let myself be vited for you... and got pregnant, you owe
me, you''ll always owe me," her voice turned from hoarse to hateful.
I furrowed my brows, steadying my breathing from beneath the bed, afraid Melody would discover
me.
No wonder Dexter kept her close, not just out of gratitude, but out of guilt.
Dexter imed Melody''s child wasn''t his, suggesting aplicated history between them.
"Dexter, you can only be mine. I don''t care if that Phoebe Larson is a real ghost or a fake, I can''t
leave her be," Melody said through gritted teeth.
She wanted me gone. Because she felt threatened.
She and Damian were plotting something big, and I was in the way.
"Sleep tight, it won''t be long before I take Phoebe''s ce by your side," Melody smiled, then stood
and left the room.
Once I was sure Melody was gone, I let out a sigh of relief.
Crawling out from under the bed, I nced at Dexter...
He always seemed untouchable, yet he''d always been a pawn in someone else''s game. It was truly
pitiful.
"Dexter, oh Dexter... you better watch out..." I shook my head and left the room.
As I quietly closed the door, I thought I saw Dexter stir, but I couldn''t be sure.
He couldn''t be faking it, could he?
...
Back in my room, I continued to pore over my parents'' journals.
"Phoebe''s been diagnosed," one entry read. "Damian says it''s Asperger''s Syndrome, part of the
autism spectrum. I don''t know why my child is like this. I just want her to grow up healthy and
happy."