I set up twenty-six hidden cameras around my house to catch my nanny cutting corners. My heart had turned cold—tempered by a billion-dollar empire and shattered by the sudden, devastating loss of my wife. I believed I was guarding my children from an outsider. I never imagined I was witnessing an angel quietly battling my own family.

But that… wasn’t the shock.
The camera captured a subtle, steady motion. Elena was rocking gently as she hummed a tune—the exact lullaby Seraphina had written for the twins before her death. It had never been published. No one else on earth should have known it.

Then the nursery door slowly opened.

Beatrice stepped inside. She wasn’t there out of concern. In her hand was a small silver dropper. She moved directly to Noah’s crib—the healthy twin—and began dripping a clear liquid into his bottle.

Elena rose to her feet, still holding Leo close. Her voice carried through the audio feed—soft, shaking, yet edged with an unmistakable command.

“Stop, Beatrice,” Elena said. “I already swapped the bottles. You’re giving him plain water now. The sedative you’ve been dosing Leo with to make him appear ‘ill’? I found the vial in your vanity yesterday.”

I couldn’t move. The tablet trembled in my hands.

“You’re nothing but hired help,” Beatrice snarled on the screen, her face twisted with fury. “No one will believe you. Alistair thinks Leo’s condition is genetic. Once he’s ruled unfit, I get custody, the estate, everything—and you disappear back to wherever you came from.”