Chapter 2 - The Hidden Vial
The silence in the nursery grew heavy, pregnant with unspoken dread as Elena lowered her hand from her throat. She took a slow, deliberate step away from the crib, her eyes never leaving her sister’s pale, tear-streaked face.
"Clara, answer me," Elena said, her voice dropping into a dangerous, icy whisper. "Did you touch the formula?"
Clara swallowed hard, her chest heaving beneath the structured fabric of her ivory blazer. She cast a fearful glance down at the maid, who was still huddled on the tiled floor, quietly sobbing into her apron.
"I didn't mean for this to happen," Clara whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the nursery's air purifier. "I only wanted to make sure he slept through the night. You’ve been working yourself into the ground, Elena. We both have."
Elena stopped pacing, her brow furrowing in deep confusion mixed with rising suspicion.
"What does my schedule have to do with my son's feeding?" Elena demanded, stepping closer to the doorway. "Clara, you are not answering the question. Why did Clara the maid say she was protecting him from the bottle?"
Clara squeezed her eyes shut for a fraction of a second, a gesture of profound guilt that sent a fresh chill down Elena’s spine.
"Because I asked her to throw it out," Clara confessed, her voice dropping to a trembling murmur. "I asked her to get rid of it before you fed him."
Elena shook her head, her dark hair swaying with the motion. Her mind raced through the implications, rejecting each terrifying possibility as it formed.
"Throw out fresh formula? That makes no sense," Elena said, her voice rising in pitch. "I pumped that milk myself this morning. It was pure. It was safe."
Clara opened her eyes, and the sheer terror reflected in them stopped Elena dead in her tracks.
"It wasn't safe anymore, Elena," Clara whispered, taking a hesitant step backward into the dark hallway. "Not after what I saw him put into the kitchen pantry."
Elena froze, the color draining entirely from her face.
"Who?" Elena asked, her voice cracking. "Who are you talking about?"
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Before Clara could form the name on her lips, a heavy thud echoed from the master bedroom at the end of the hall.
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