Keisha never complained. She walked the halls at night, soothed Paige, sang low melodies, and slept on a mattress near the nursery door. I barely noticed her presence until Delphine planted a seed.
“You trust that maid too much,” Delphine said during dinner. “I saw her in the nursery for hours doing nothing. Who knows what she touches when you are not there.”
Suspicion is easy when you are grieving. I ordered a security upgrade the next morning. Cameras in every hallway, every entrance, and especially the nursery. I told no one except the technician. I told myself I was protecting my children.
Two weeks later I sat alone in my office at three in the morning, unable to sleep. The rain outside felt like a heartbeat on the roof. I opened the security feed and selected the nursery.
The screen showed Keisha sitting on the floor between the cribs. Paige was pressed against her chest, breathing slowly. Jonah slept undisturbed. Keisha hummed a tune I recognized so deeply that my throat tightened. It was Brianna lullaby, a song she sang only in our bedroom before the twins were born.
I whispered to myself, “How does she know that song.”
Then the door opened.
Delphine entered holding a baby bottle and a small vial. She walked straight to Jonah crib. Keisha stood up immediately, still holding Paige.
“Stop,” Keisha said. Her voice was calm but firm. “I switched the bottles. The one you are holding only has water. Where is the sedative you have been giving Paige.”
Delphine froze, then laughed.
“You think you are clever,” Delphine said. “You are a servant. Trevor believes the doctor. He believes Paige is sick. Soon a judge will believe she needs a stable guardian. And I will take care of everything.”
Keisha stepped forward.
“I will not let you harm them,” she said.
Delphine eyes turned cold.
“You have no idea who you are standing against.”
Keisha pulled a small worn pendant from her pocket.
“I was the nursing assistant on duty the night Brianna died,” Keisha said. “She was afraid. She told me if something happened I must watch over her children. I promised her. I came here for that promise.”
Delphine raised her hand.
I did not wait.
I burst into the nursery and grabbed Delphine wrist.
“Put your hand down,” I said quietly.
Delphine stared at me, shocked. “Trevor. You do not understand.”
“I understand enough,” I replied. “Every word is recorded.”