Sarah's POV
Sarah is going to throw up.
She sits in the bathroom stall of the Midtown Manhattan office building and tries to convince her body that this is fine. This is manageable. This is just a meeting with a coordinator who has no idea that the woman applying for the nanny position is actually the ex-wife of the billionaire who's looking to hire.
She splashes water on her face at the sink.
A woman in business clothes walks in and barely glances at her. Sarah looks like nobody. Invisible. This is good. This is exactly what she's been training herself to be for three years.
The appointment is at two PM.
Sarah has been here since one-thirty because she arrived an hour early and then didn't know what to do with herself so she wandered around the block and bought a coffee she didn't drink and tried to convince her hands to stop shaking.
Now it's one fifty-eight and she's walking toward a door with frosted glass that says "Premier Nanny Placements" in silver letters.
A woman looks up from a desk. She's maybe fifty with red hair and reading glasses hanging around her neck. Her name tag says "Diane."
"Rachel?" Diane asks like she's checking off a list.
"Yes." Sarah's voice comes out steady. That's good. That's what she's been practicing.
"Come on back." Diane gestures to a small office with two chairs and a desk covered in files.
Sarah follows her and sits down in a chair that's slightly too low. Everything about this moment is designed to make her feel smaller. She's read about this. How people structure their environments to control conversations. How power dynamics work.
She understands power dynamics now in a way she didn't seven years ago.
Diane opens a file folder and pulls out several pages. Sarah's fake resume. Her fake references. Her fake history. All the carefully constructed lies that are supposed to get her into her daughter's life.
"Rachel Mitchell," Diane reads. "Nanny certification from the Boston Institute. Three years of live-in experience with five different families in the Boston area. References from all five families saying you're reliable, professional, and excellent with difficult children." Diane looks up. "These are impressive credentials."
Sarah nods. She doesn't smile because smiling looks guilty.
"But I have to tell you," Diane continues, "this position isn't typical. The employer is James Winters. He's known for being exacting. Demanding. Not particularly warm. And his daughter has some behavioral issues that previous nannies haven't been able to handle."
Sarah's chest tightens hearing her daughter described as having behavioral issues. She wants to explain that those aren't behavioral issues. That's trauma. That's a child learning that feeling things is dangerous because the person who was supposed to keep her safe chose other things instead.
But she can't say that.
"I'm skilled with challenging children," Sarah says carefully. "I've worked with kids who've experienced loss. Kids who've built walls around themselves. I understand that sometimes children act difficult because they're actually broken and nobody's bothered to see it."
Diane sets down her pen and looks at Sarah differently now. Like something in her words landed somewhere real.
"That's more thoughtful than most people who apply for this position," Diane says. "Most people just want the salary. They don't care about the child."
"I care about the child," Sarah says. And this is true. This is the most true thing she's said since she walked into this office.
Diane pulls out another page. Her expression shifts. Something in her face tightens.
"Here's where we need to talk about the reality of working for James Winters," Diane says. "He does background checks. Not the standard kind. He has people. Investigators. He will find out if there's anything inconsistent about your history. Anything that doesn't add up. Any gap in your story."
Sarah's mouth goes dry.
"He's had issues before with household staff lying about their credentials," Diane continues. "He takes it personally. He sees it as a betrayal. And when he finds out someone lied to him, he destroys them. Legally. Financially. Professionally. I've seen him do it."
Sarah doesn't move. She doesn't blink. She doesn't let anything show on her face.
"I'm assuming you understand what that means," Diane says. It's not a question.
"I understand," Sarah says.
"All of your references check out," Diane says. "I've already called them. They all say you're excellent. But that's because they're calling the numbers you provided and those numbers are being answered by people who are expecting the call."
Sarah's heart stops.
Diane leans back in her chair and studies Sarah like she's trying to see something underneath the surface.
"Here's what I need to know," Diane says. "Are you Rachel Mitchell. Is this your real name."
The moment stretches. Sarah understands that this is the moment where everything either works or falls apart. This is where her lie either holds or shatters.
"My name is Rachel Mitchell," Sarah says. "I was born Rachel Michelle Patterson. I changed my last name back to my maiden name, Mitchell, three years ago when I got my nanny certification. It's a legal name change. You can verify it through the court records if you need to."
All of this is true. She did change her name legally back to Mitchell. She did it on purpose so that technically she wouldn't be lying. She'd just be using a name that's actually hers. A name that's legally documented.
Diane nods like this answers something.
"The families in Boston," Diane says. "They're real."
"They're real," Sarah confirms.
"And they'll say you worked for them."
"They'll say exactly that," Sarah says. Because they will. Because Maya set it up perfectly. Because the families actually did hire her for short-term positions and she actually did work for them. All of it is technically true. Just arranged in a way that creates a false narrative about who she is and where she's been.
Diane closes the file.
"Okay," she says. "I'm going to move forward with your application. I'm going to submit it to James Winters today. His team will contact you within forty-eight hours to schedule an interview."
Relief floods through Sarah but she doesn't let it show.
"There's one more thing you need to know," Diane says, and Sarah's relief dies immediately.
Diane puts her reading glasses on and looks directly at Sarah.
"James Winters doesn't give second chances," Diane says. "Not to anyone. Not for anything. This isn't just a job interview. This is a test. If he finds even one inconsistency in your story. One thing that doesn't match up. One moment where something feels off. He will not hire you. And more importantly, he will investigate further. He has resources. He has people. And if he decides you've lied to him, he will use those resources to find out why."
Sarah's hands are shaking but she keeps them in her lap where Diane can't see.
"I understand," Sarah says.
"I don't think you do," Diane says. And there's something in her voice that sounds almost like concern. "I think you're desperate for this job for reasons you're not telling me. I think you have a story that's more complicated than what's in this file. And I think you're about to walk into a situation with a man who will figure that out if given enough time."
The office feels smaller.
"But it's not my job to judge why people want the jobs they want," Diane continues. "It's my job to place people. And you're clearly qualified. Your story is solid. Your background checks out. So I'm going to do my job."
Diane pulls out her phone and types something quickly.
"Application submitted," she says. "They'll contact you tomorrow or the day after. You should prepare yourself for an in-person interview. James likes to evaluate people face to face. He says he can tell if someone's lying just by looking at them."
Sarah's entire body goes cold.
"Has anyone ever successfully lied to him?" Sarah asks.
Diane looks up from her phone.
"Not that I know of," she says. "He's good at seeing people. Really good. It's one of the things that makes him successful. He understands human nature. He understands motivation. He understands what people want and why they want it."
"What does he understand about what nannies want?" Sarah asks.
"He thinks they want money," Diane says. "He thinks everyone wants money. He thinks that's the only thing that makes people do anything. He's never hired someone who wanted something else."
Sarah thinks about this.
"That's his weakness," Sarah says quietly.
Diane sets down her phone.
"What?" she asks.
"That's his weakness," Sarah repeats. "If he thinks everyone wants money, then he won't see someone coming for something else. He won't understand a motivation he doesn't share."
Diane studies Sarah for a long moment.
"You're going to do this," Diane says. It's not a question.
"Yes," Sarah says.
"Even though I just told you he destroys people who lie to him."
"Yes," Sarah says.
"Why?" Diane asks.
Sarah stands up and gathers her things. The interview is over. She's said too much already.
"Because sometimes saving someone is worth the risk of being destroyed," Sarah says.
She walks out of Diane's office and back out into the Manhattan afternoon. Her phone buzzes almost immediately. A text from an unknown number.
"Your interview is scheduled for tomorrow at 3 PM. James Winters Penthouse. 44th floor. Bring original documents. Be early. Don't be late."
Sarah reads the message three times.
Tomorrow.
She's going to see him tomorrow.
She's going to walk into his apartment and stand in front of her ex-husband and he won't recognize her. She'll hide behind Rachel Mitchell like she's wearing a mask. And she'll try to save their daughter from becoming just like him.
And if he figures out who she is, he'll destroy her.
Sarah walks down the Manhattan street with a phone in her hand that contains the address of her own nightmare.
She's never been more certain about anything in her life.