Chapter 2
The bright, unyielding daylight continued to flood the nursery lounge, casting no shadows to hide the horrifying reality of the scene. Daniel stepped over the scattered remnants of a dropped water glass and approached the bassinet. Baby Noah, his fair and rosy face flushed deep red from screaming, was kicking frantically against his soft, pristine blankets.
"I've got you," Daniel whispered, his deep voice cracking with an emotion he rarely allowed to surface.
With practiced, terrifyingly gentle precision, Daniel slid his powerful arm beneath the swaddled newborn. He lifted Noah safely with one arm, pulling the tiny boy securely against the dark, expensive fabric of his tailored suit jacket. The moment Noah felt the solid warmth of his father’s chest, the frantic screams began to subside into exhausted, breathy whimpers.
Holding his son protectively, Daniel immediately dropped to one knee beside Clara. The contrast between her condition and the luxurious, brightly colored room was sickening. Her slippers had been kicked off in a struggle, and her torn, filthy clothes smelled faintly of damp earth and bleach—a scent that absolutely did not belong inside the sterile nursery wing.
"Clara," Daniel urged softly, his American accent laced with a desperate edge. He pressed two fingers against the fair skin of her neck, searching for a pulse. It was there, but it was weak and fluttering. "Clara, wake up. Open your eyes, sweetheart."
"You are coddling her, Daniel," Evelyn remarked from the dining table, scraping her knife against her plate in a grating, deliberate motion. "If you wake her, she is just going to start weeping again. It is incredibly tiresome."
"Shut your mouth," Daniel snarled without turning his head. "If she doesn't wake up in the next thirty seconds, I am calling a medevac chopper, and you are going to answer to the commission for assaulting my wife."
"Assault?" Evelyn scoffed loudly. "I didn't touch her. She tripped over her own clumsy feet because she refused to obey a simple command."
Before Daniel could issue the lethal threat resting on his tongue, a frantic, rhythmic pounding echoed through the room. It wasn't coming from the main estate doors; it was coming from the heavy, locked service door that connected the nursery to the staff hallway.
"Boss! Mr. Carter!" a muffled, desperate female voice cried out from the other side of the thick oak paneling. The pounding grew more violent, the sound of fists slamming against wood. "Please! Open the door!"
Daniel instantly recognized the crisp, panicked American accent. It was Marissa Reed, the estate’s most trusted twenty-seven-year-old housekeeper.
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"Stay exactly where you are," Daniel ordered Evelyn, his eyes burning with a dark, violent promise as he stood up, keeping Noah safely tucked in the crook of his arm.
He crossed the bright room in three long strides, his polished leather shoes silent against the thick carpet. He reached the service door, flipped the heavy brass deadbolt, and ripped the door open. The blinding cinematic light from the nursery spilled into the dim staff corridor, revealing a scene that would ignite a war inside the Carter family.
