Jary Wilson burst into his Chicago penthouse kitchen like a man chased by his own heartbeat.
He stopped so hard his shoes slid a fraction on the polished floor.
Olivia stood by the marble counter in her orange maid uniform, yellow gloves still on, wiping in slow circles like nothing in the world had changed. Like everything was normal.
But nothing was normal.
A gray baby carrier was strapped to her body. One baby was pressed against her chest. Another was snug on her back. Two small heads. Two tiny hands gripping fabric. Two sleepy faces, calm and quiet, like they belonged there.
Jary’s twin sons.
Noah and Eli.
His face twisted in a way that wasn’t just anger. It was shock mixed with something raw, something scared.
“Olivia,” he snapped, stepping closer. “What are you doing with my sons?”
Olivia turned her head slowly, careful not to jostle the babies.
“Mr. Wilson,” she said, voice low as velvet. “Please lower your voice. You’ll scare them.”
“Lower my voice?” Jary repeated, heat rising. “You have my children strapped to you. Answer me.”
Olivia swallowed. Her eyes flicked toward the babies, then back to him.
“They were crying,” she said. “I heard them and nobody came.”
Jary’s stare sharpened like a blade. “Nobody came,” he repeated. “Where is Clare?”
“Upstairs,” Olivia said. “She said she was busy.”
Jary took another step, close enough to see the faint pinkness on Noah’s cheek where tears had dried. Close enough to see Eli’s tiny fist curled into the seam of Olivia’s uniform like it was a rope holding him to safety.
“You are a maid,” Jary said, every word clipped. “You clean. You don’t carry my sons around my house like this.”
Olivia’s voice stayed soft, but it didn’t bend. “They needed arms,” she said. “That’s all.”
One of the babies stirred, a small restless sound in his throat.
Olivia rocked once, barely a sway, and whispered, “It’s okay,” as if the words themselves were a lullaby.
The baby settled instantly.
Jary saw it. Saw how fast they calmed for her.
And instead of relief, it made his anger double, because it forced a question into his mind that he didn’t want to hear.
Why aren’t they calming like that for me?
Jary pointed at the straps. “Take them off.”
“Not fast,” Olivia said quickly. “If I pull them off fast, they’ll scream. Let me sit first. Gently.”
Jary’s jaw clenched so hard it ached. “You didn’t ask me,” he said. “You didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t have time,” Olivia answered. “One of them was coughing. He was red. He couldn’t breathe right.”
That landed different.
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