In one fluid roll she sat up, both boys clutched tight against her heaving ribs.
Safe—but infected by the sudden terror flooding the room—the twins burst into piercing, synchronized wails.
Ethan crossed the room in three strides, face twisted. “Let go of my sons.”
He snatched Nico from her arms with rough urgency.
“Now.”
Lena remained on the floor, hands suddenly empty, trembling. She brushed hair from her face with the back of a glove, dark eyes wide with shock and confusion.
“Mr. Caldwell—you were supposed to—”
“Be on a plane. Yes. Thank God I came back.”
He loomed over her. “What kind of insanity is this?”
Nico writhed in his grip, reaching backward toward Lena, sobbing “Na-na! Na-na!”
The rejection landed like a slap. Ethan set Nico on the couch awkwardly and rounded on Lena as she rose.
“Stay down,” he snapped, pointing. “Right there—where you belong. Do you have any idea how close my son came to cracking his skull?”
“I had him, sir. I always have them. We were doing balance exercises—”
He barked a humorless laugh. “You call that exercise? I saw you sprawled like an animal, letting my children stomp on you with those filthy toilet gloves—”
“They’re brand new, sir. Just for play. The yellow helps them focus visually—”
“I don’t care about your daycare theories.” He raked a hand through perfectly combed hair, mussing it for the first time in years. “I pay you more than you’d earn in a decade anywhere else. I pay for care. For education. For manners. Not for a circus act on my living-room floor.”
He gestured at the chaos. “Look at yourself. Pathetic. What would people think if they walked in right now? What would Claire think if she saw the woman entrusted with her children treating them like trampolines?”
The mention of his late wife was a low blow. Lena bit her lip, eyes glistening, but held her ground. She needed this job. Her mother’s medical bills depended on it.
But Santi crawled to her, clinging to her navy skirt, sobbing into her knee.
Something fierce rose in her.
“Sir,” she said, voice shifting from apology to quiet maternal steel. “They were laughing. Really laughing. They hadn’t done that in months. You didn’t hear it because you’re never here—but they were happy.”
“Hysteria isn’t happiness, Lena. Chaos isn’t joy. You mistook license for love. You endangered them for a stupid game. You’re irresponsible.”