“I don’t know, sir,” she lied, her voice trembling with a truth too big to hide. “I just… sing to him while I clean.”
Valeria didn’t care.
“Liar! Take the child! Search her bag!”
A guard grabbed Marina’s arm. Noah woke instantly and panicked, kicking and crying, reaching for her.
“Easy, my love—” Marina managed to cry before a hand covered her mouth.
The service door slammed shut.
Noah’s screams haunted the house like a ghost.
The party continued by Valeria’s command—forced smiles, nervous music, clinking glasses trying to erase what had happened.
Lucas wasn’t there anymore.
Two hours later, he went upstairs.
The nursery destroyed him.
Noah lay on the floor, exhausted, bruised from crying, banging his head against the carpet. The official nanny stood nearby scrolling her phone.
“What are you doing? Why aren’t you calming him?” Lucas roared.
“He doesn’t want anything,” she said flatly. “He just screams for her.”
Lucas picked Noah up. Nothing changed.
Then he saw something under the crib—a worn cotton handkerchief with a blue flower embroidered in one corner.
He wiped Noah’s face with it.
Instantly, the child froze. He inhaled, clutched the cloth with both hands, pressed it to his nose.
Within minutes, he slept deeply.
Lucas stood frozen.
A child does not react like that to a stranger.
That night, Lucas reviewed the security footage.
What he saw shattered him.
Marina sneaking into Noah’s room, singing lullabies straight to his heart.
Noah smiling. Reaching for her.
Marina kissing his forehead with a devotion that hurt to watch.
In one video, Lucas read her lips clearly as she rocked him:
“My life… my blood… forgive me.”
Later, Valeria appeared in the doorway, elegant as ever.
“How’s Noah?” she asked.
“Asleep,” she said lightly. “I gave him drops. Valerian. Like my mother suggested.”
Moments later, Noah screamed again—standing in his crib, clutching the handkerchief, pointing at Valeria, shouting “No” with primal fury.
When Valeria raised her hand, Lucas caught it mid-air.
“Don’t,” he growled. “Get out.”
After she left, Lucas noticed the wooden horse on the floor. On its base, carved with a knife, were two tiny initials:
N & M.
Noah and Marina.
His stomach twisted.
He drove through the rain to the address on Marina’s agency contract.
Her home was a cold, broken room. A stone wrapped in paper lay on the floor:
“Disappear or the child pays.”