He didn’t know if his sons would pull away from him the way they pulled away from Clare.
And that fear made him feel smaller than any boardroom ever had.
Olivia pulled off her gloves and rubbed her hands together, trying to steady herself. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t want it to be like this.”
Jary lifted his eyes to her. “You did the right thing,” he said, though pain threaded every word. “I should’ve been the one to do it.”
A soft sound came from the hallway.
A door.
A step.
Olivia’s head lifted.
Jary’s eyes snapped toward the doorway.
“Is Clare still in the house?” he asked.
Olivia nodded once. “Upstairs,” she said. “Second door.”
Jary remembered the promise he’d made when his wife died and left him with two newborn sons and a house that suddenly felt too big.
I’ll protect them. I’ll be here. I won’t let anything happen to them.
He had meant it when he said it.
Then life got loud. The company demanded more. Investors demanded more. The world demanded more. And somehow, bedtime became something he outsourced.
Now he stared at his sons and realized he hadn’t outsourced bedtime.
He’d outsourced safety.
Jary saved the clip to his phone. His thumb moved with purpose now.
He looked at Olivia. “Stay here with them,” he said. “Don’t leave this room. Not even if she calls you.”
Olivia nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Jary took two steps, then stopped and looked back.
“If she lies about you,” he said, “if she says you hurt them… what will you do?”
Olivia held his gaze without blinking. “I’ll tell the truth,” she said. “And I’ll hope you choose to hear it.”
Jary swallowed hard, shame stinging.
“This time,” he said quietly, “I will.”
Then he walked out of the kitchen, fast and quiet.
Upstairs, the second door was half-open.
Clare’s laugh floated out, soft and careless, like she’d been living in a different house than the one where two babies had cried themselves hoarse.
Jary knocked once.
The laughter stopped.
The door opened.
Clare stood there with her phone in hand, smile snapping onto her face.
“Mr. Wilson,” she said sweetly. “You’re home early.”
Jary kept his voice low. “Come with me,” he said. “Now.”
Clare blinked. “What is this about?”
Jary stepped into the room and closed the door behind them.
Clare crossed her arms, acting relaxed. “If this is about the kids crying,” she said, “they do that. They’re spoiled. They’ve learned it gets them attention.”
Jary stared at her like she’d spoken in a foreign language. “Don’t call my son spoiled,” he said.
Clare lifted both hands like she was calming a wild animal. “I’m telling you the truth,” she said. “Those twins are difficult. And your maid is making it worse.”
“Olivia,” Jary said, voice tightening.
“Yes,” Clare replied quickly. “She’s always near them. Always picking them up. She’s crossing boundaries. She’s trying to get them attached to her.”
Jary pulled out his phone and held it up.
“You want to talk about boundaries?” he said. “Let’s talk about what you did today.”
Clare’s smile didn’t crack. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Jary hit play and turned the screen toward her.
He didn’t speak.
He let the footage talk.
Clare watched herself yank Noah’s arm. Push Eli’s hand away. Close the door. Leave.
Her face drained of color.
Then she forced a laugh that sounded like a glass about to shatter.
“That is nothing,” she said quickly. “He was about to fall.”
“You hurt him,” Jary said.
“I did not hurt him,” Clare snapped. “And even if I pulled too hard, it’s because he was screaming. I was teaching him.”
“They are babies,” Jary said, voice low and dangerous. “You don’t teach babies with pain.”
Clare’s eyes flicked to the wall, to the corner where a camera sat.
“So you record us,” she said, suddenly sharp. “You spy on your own house, and now you want to act like a good father?”
The words hit Jary in the ribs because they were half true.
He’d installed cameras after his wife died because the idea of losing control terrified him. Cameras made him feel like he could still protect things from a distance.
But protection from a distance wasn’t protection.
It was an excuse.
“This isn’t about me looking,” Jary said, jaw tight. “This is about you doing.”
Clare’s tone changed, softer now, manipulative. “Mr. Wilson,” she murmured, “you’re tired. You have grief. You don’t think clearly. The maid is confusing you.”
“Don’t talk about her,” Jary said.
Clare leaned closer. “You believe her over me?” she asked, incredulous. “A maid?”
“I believe what I saw,” Jary said.
Clare’s face turned hard. “Fine,” she snapped. “Fire me. See how fast you regret it. They will scream and you’ll run back to your office like you always do.”
That cut him because it exposed the ugly truth he’d been dodging.
He swallowed.
“I’m not running anymore,” he said.
Clare’s smile returned, thin and poisonous. “If you fire me,” she said, “I’ll tell the board you keep secret cameras. I’ll tell the press you let your maid carry your babies. You know how people will talk.”
Jary stared at her. “You’re threatening me.”
“I’m warning you,” Clare said, shrugging.
Jary lifted his phone and pressed a button. “Security,” he said calmly. “Upstairs. Now.”
Clare’s face shifted for real this time.
“Mr. Wilson,” she started.
“You’re done,” Jary cut in. “Pack your things. You leave tonight.”
“You can’t do that,” Clare shouted. “You can’t throw me out like trash!”
Jary kept his voice low. “Do you want me to call the police too?” he asked. “Do you want them to watch that video?”
Clare froze.
The door opened and two security men stepped in.
Jary pointed at Clare. “Stay here,” he said. “Watch her pack. Don’t let her near the twins.”
Clare let out a sharp laugh, eyes darting toward the camera on the wall again.
“You think you’re smart,” she said. “But you don’t even know what your own system shows.”
Jary’s stomach tightened.
“What did you do?” he asked.
Clare’s smile widened. “Nothing,” she said. “I just know where to stand.”
Jary didn’t like that answer.
He walked out and went downstairs fast.
Olivia was still in the kitchen. Noah and Eli slept on the couch like two small storms finally settled.
Jary’s voice came out low. “She’s leaving tonight.”
Olivia exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for two weeks. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Jary looked at the twins, then at Olivia. “Where did you learn to handle babies like that?” he asked.
Olivia hesitated, then spoke softly. “I raised my little brother after our mother died,” she said. “I learned because nobody else did.”
Jary nodded once, weight gathering behind his eyes. “I should’ve learned too,” he said.
Olivia’s gaze didn’t soften out of pity. It softened out of understanding. “You can still learn,” she said. “But you have to be here.”
A suitcase bumped upstairs.
Olivia tensed.
Jary stood. “I’ll handle it,” he said. “You stay with them.”
Olivia nodded. “I will.”
That night, Jary didn’t go back to his office.
He didn’t even go to his bedroom.
He sat in the kitchen, jacket off, tie loosened, watching Noah and Eli breathe like their lungs were the only thing keeping him honest.
Olivia sat across from him, hands folded, eyes fixed on the twins, listening for any sound in the hallway.
Jary’s phone buzzed around midnight.
Unknown number.
A photo loaded onto his screen.
It was Olivia in the kitchen with the twins strapped to her, taken from an angle that wasn’t any camera he owned. Not one.
Below the photo were five words:
Everyone will see this tomorrow.
Jary’s blood ran cold.
Olivia saw his face change. “What is it?” she asked.
Jary turned the screen toward her.
Olivia’s hand flew to her mouth.
“She did this,” Olivia whispered. “She wants to ruin me.”
“She wants you scared,” Jary said, voice steady even as his hands shook. “And she wants me panicking into the wrong move.”
Olivia’s voice cracked. “People will believe it.”
“Not if we move with proof,” Jary said. “Not if we stay calm.”
“Truth is slow,” Olivia whispered.
“Lies move fast,” Jary agreed. Then he lifted his phone and made calls. His head of security. His lawyer. A pediatric doctor to come at sunrise.
Upstairs, the service door camera suddenly went dark.
Not the app freezing. Not a glitch.
Dark.
Jary noticed it when he checked again.
His stomach dropped.
Something was happening in his house while he sat ten feet from his sleeping sons.
And for the first time in his life, money didn’t make him feel powerful.
It made him feel late.
Morning came like a bruise turning yellow.
Dr. Harris arrived early and examined the twins with careful hands and a face that didn’t flinch.
“These are grab marks,” she said finally. “Not a fall. Not normal play.”
Jary swallowed hard. “Write it down,” he said.
Dr. Harris nodded. “And you need a specialist,” she added. “Babies remember rough hands.”
After she left, the penthouse started buzzing in a different way.
Jary’s assistant called, voice frantic. “Sir, there’s a post spreading. That photo. People are saying…”
“I know,” Jary said. “Tell the board I’ll join their call.”
“Sir, they want a statement. They want you to put the maid on leave.”
Jary’s jaw tightened. “No,” he said. “I’m not hiding her like a problem.”
He hung up, turned to Olivia, and spoke quietly. “Don’t open the door for anyone today,” he said. “Not alone.”
Olivia nodded, eyes glossy. “Do you think police will come for me?”
“I think she will try,” Jary said. “But she’s going to meet the truth this time.”
An hour later, a knock hit the front door.
Hard.
Jary checked the building camera.
A police officer stood beside a man in a blazer holding a folder.
Child welfare.
Jary opened the door and held himself steady in the frame.
“Mr. Wilson?” the man asked. “Gerald Price. Child welfare. We received a report tonight.”
Jary’s stomach tightened. “A report from who?”
“We can’t share that,” Gerald said. “We need to check on the twins.”
Jary stepped aside. “You can come in,” he said. “But you speak to me first. And you don’t touch my sons.”
Gerald nodded and entered. The officer stayed near the door.
Gerald’s eyes flicked to Olivia in the kitchen. She stood with her hands visible, posture calm but stiff.
“And you are?” Gerald asked.
See more on the next page
Advertisement
