Chương 2
Then at Vivian.
“Go downstairs.”
“Marcus.”
“Not another word in front of him.”
“He’s eight months old.”
“I said downstairs.”
Vivian’s lips parted.
Elena expected an argument.
Instead Vivian turned.
Her heel made a clean, controlled sound against the marble as she walked away.
At the entrance to the corridor she stopped.
Without looking back, she said, “You should ask yourself why Elena happened to be standing here with a recording device.”
Then she continued down the hall.
Marcus waited until the distant door shut.
Only then did his posture change.
His hand tightened around the bassinet handle.
“Elena.”
“Yes.”
“Is he hurt?”
“No. Frightened. That’s all.”
“You’re sure?”
“I checked the harness. He didn’t hit anything.”
Marcus bent over his son.
Noah looked up at him with wet, furious eyes and immediately began crying harder.
“Yeah,” Marcus murmured. “I know.”
He unfastened nothing. He did not lift him out. Elena noticed that. Marcus had always been careful with instructions. If the pediatrician said Noah should remain strapped while the bassinet was moving, Marcus would probably remember that rule during an earthquake.
Instead he rested two fingers against the baby’s hand.
Noah caught one.
Elena looked away.
She picked up the loose brake lever.
The brass was cold.
“Police?” she asked.
Marcus’s head came up.
The question seemed to offend him, not because he disagreed but because he had not reached it yet.
Elena understood.
Rich families, in her experience, had emergency procedures for fires, medical events, storms, kidnappings, data breaches, and embarrassing guests.
They rarely had procedures for a relative trying to kill a baby.
Marcus straightened.
“Yes.”
Then he hesitated.
That hesitation mattered.
Elena saw it.
“Marcus.”
“I’m calling.”
But he did not.
His eyes stayed on the phone.
“Is the video saved?” Elena asked.
“It should be.”
“Should?”
He looked at her.
“The monitor sends clips when motion triggers it. I got an alert. I opened the live feed.”
“So this part is saved?”
“I don’t know.”
Elena felt something cold move through her stomach.
Vivian’s last words returned to her.
Why Elena happened to be standing here with a recording device.
“That wasn’t the monitor from his nursery,” Elena said.
Marcus frowned.
“It was clipped to his blanket when I brought him up.”
“Who clipped it there?”
“I assumed you did.”
“I didn’t.”
They looked at each other.
Noah hiccupped.
From downstairs came the faint sound of laughter.
The charity dinner was still going on.
Eighty-three guests occupied the lower floor of the mansion. A former governor. Two hospital trustees. A retired federal judge. A collection of business owners, donors, lawyers, surgeons, and people Elena recognized only from framed magazine covers in Marcus’s study.
Nobody downstairs knew that three minutes earlier a baby had nearly reached a flight of marble steps.
Marcus took out his phone again.
“I’m calling the police.”
This time he did.
The dispatcher asked questions.
Marcus answered them plainly.
Possible attempted harm to an infant.
No injury.
Suspect still inside the home.
Weapon?
“No.”
Elena almost said, Her shoe.
The thought was so absurd that a small, helpless laugh escaped her.
Marcus looked at her.
She covered her mouth.
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head.
“No. Don’t be.”
She was still kneeling on marble.
Her knee had begun to ache.
She stood and immediately regretted it.
Marcus noticed.
“You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“It’s my knee.”
He returned to the dispatcher.
“Yes, another person may be injured. Minor.”
Elena gave him an irritated look.
For some reason that made him almost smile.
It lasted less than a second.
When the call ended, he said officers were on their way.
Then they faced the more immediate problem.
The house downstairs remained full.
Marcus’s younger brother was giving a speech in the ballroom in fifteen minutes.
Vivian was somewhere among the guests.
And Elena still did not know why the baby monitor had been moved.
“Who brought Noah upstairs?” Marcus asked.
“I did.”
“Who asked you?”
“Vivian.”
His expression changed.
“What exactly did she say?”
Elena forced herself to reconstruct it.
Not what she now believed Vivian meant.
The actual words.
“She came into the service pantry at about eight twenty. Said Noah was tired and all the noise was making him cranky. She said you wanted him taken to the gallery because it was quieter than the nursery while the plumbing crew was working in the east wing.”
Marcus stared at her.
“There is no plumbing crew.”
“I know that now.”
“I never told her to move him.”
“She said you had.”
“Did you text me?”
Elena looked down.
“No.”
“Why not?”
There it was.
Not blame exactly.
But close enough to sting.
“Because I was carrying a tray with twelve champagne glasses and your sister was telling me the baby had been crying for ten minutes.”
“My half sister.”
Elena looked at him.
“Marcus.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Sorry.”
“Also, you were onstage with the foundation people.”
“I would have answered.”
“You don’t answer when you’re giving speeches.”
“I would have if it was about Noah.”
“I didn’t know it was about Noah being in danger.”
The argument stopped as quickly as it began.
They both understood what had happened.
Marcus was terrified.
Elena was angry at herself.
Neither emotion improved when expressed through the other person.
“I should have checked,” she said.
Marcus shook his head.
“She lied to you.”
“I still should have checked.”
“Maybe.”
The word irritated her more than reassurance would have.
She appreciated him for it.
Noah’s crying had become intermittent little complaints.
Marcus looked down at him.
“We need to get him away from here.”
“Nursery?”
“No.”
Elena knew why before he said it.
They no longer knew which parts of the house were safe.
Not because Vivian controlled the house.
Marcus owned it.
May you like
But Vivian had grown up in it.
She knew every corridor, every lock, every employee habit, every place the security cameras did not cover because their late father had hated visible cameras in historic rooms.
