“You’re fired.” I had been inside Evelyn Caruso’s mansion for exactly six minutes. I looked at the seventy-nine-year-old woman sitting beneath a cashmere blanket in an ivory armchair,

(Word count: ~810 words)

“You’re fired.”

I had been inside Evelyn Caruso’s mansion for exactly six minutes.

I looked at the seventy-nine-year-old woman sitting beneath a cashmere blanket in an ivory armchair, then at the untouched pills on the table beside her, then at the silver-headed cane she had deliberately placed out of reach.

“All right,” I said.

Evelyn blinked.

I bent down, picked up my nursing bag, and started toward the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I turned around. “You fired me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That was a test.”

“I’m a registered nurse, Mrs. Caruso. Not a contestant on a game show.”

Behind me, someone made a sound suspiciously close to a laugh.

I had noticed him the second I entered the room. Dante Caruso. Six feet of charcoal suit, quiet menace, and the kind of expression that made wealthy businessmen reconsider lying before they had even opened their mouths.

Boston knew the Caruso name. Restaurants. Hotels. Construction companies. And, if the newspapers were to be believed, businesses that never appeared on tax filings. People called Dante a businessman when cameras were present. They called him something very different after midnight: a mafia boss.

His grandmother pointed a finger at him. “Don’t encourage her.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Dante replied.

“You smiled.”

“I barely moved my face.”

“You have been moving that face since you were born. I know every expression.”

I looked back at Evelyn. “So do you actually want me gone?”

Her mouth tightened. She didn’t answer.

I lowered my bag. “That’s what I thought.”

“I already dislike you.”

“Perfect.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “We’re making progress.”

This time Dante really did laugh.

I pulled a chair toward her. “Now that I’ve apparently been rehired, we need to discuss your medication.”

“I did not rehire you.”

“Then I’m working for free, which would be financially irresponsible.”

Dante looked away, shoulders moving once.

Evelyn caught him. “You think she’s funny.”

“I think you finally met someone who isn’t afraid of you.”

Silence dropped into the room. The temperature seemed to change. Evelyn’s hand tightened around the blanket. She had fired three nurses in eight days. I knew because the home-health agency had warned me before I arrived.

What they had not warned me about was why.

Evelyn had undergone emergency hip surgery after falling down the staircase six weeks earlier. Emotionally, everyone around her had decided she had become fragile. Evelyn hated fragility more than pain. I understood that almost immediately.

I placed her pills on the table.

“No,” she said.

I nodded. “All right.”

Evelyn stared at me. “Aren’t you going to argue with me?”

“No. You’re mentally competent. You can refuse. Which means I’ll document that you made a fully informed, competent decision to ignore the surgeon who put your hip back together.”

Dante coughed into his fist.

Evelyn snatched the medication from the table. “I hate you.”

“Drink the water.”

She swallowed the pills.

Dante stepped forward. “My grandmother’s previous nurses lasted eleven hours, two days, and forty-three minutes. She fired you in six minutes.”

“Four, technically,” Evelyn corrected from behind.

Dante looked back at me. “You’re still here.”

I met his eyes. “I’ve handled worse.”

He frowned slightly. “What?”

I smiled. “Families.”

For the first time, Dante Caruso looked genuinely surprised. He left.

I thought the hardest part of my new assignment would be getting Evelyn to use her walker. I was wrong.