I secretly installed twenty-six hidden cameras throughout my house, convinced that I would catch my nanny neglecting her duties.

Grace sat on the floor between the two cribs. She was not asleep. She held Isaiah against her bare chest, skin to skin, wrapped in a blanket. She swayed slowly, humming a tune that curled through the microphone. My heart lurched because I recognized the melody. It was Brielle’s private song. No recording of it existed. No sheet music. Only memory.

Grace whispered to Isaiah, “You are safe, little heart. Your mother sang this for you before the world turned dark.”

My eyes burned, but the feed shifted to something worse.

The nursery door opened. Felicia entered quietly, holding a small glass dropper and a baby bottle. She approached Aaron’s crib and tilted the dropper toward the bottle.

Grace stood up immediately, still holding Isaiah.

“Stop,” Grace said. “I switched the bottles earlier. That one has only water. What you put in the other bottle is still in the trash. I saw it yesterday.”

Felicia froze, then smiled in a way that made my stomach twist.

“You are only hired help,” Felicia said. “No one will believe a girl with no family name. The doctors already think Isaiah is unstable. Once Trevor accepts he cannot handle both children, custody will come to me. The trust follows. The company follows. Everything follows.”

Grace’s voice shook but did not break.

“I was on duty in the hospital the night Brielle died,” she said. “She told me she was afraid of you. She said if anything happened to her, someone had to watch over her children. I promised I would. I changed my job, my records, my life to stand here. I will not leave them.”

Felicia stepped forward and raised her hand.

I did not think. I ran.

The hallway blurred as I sprinted, my bare feet striking cold marble. I burst into the nursery and caught Felicia’s wrist before her hand landed.

She gasped. Grace stepped back, clutching Isaiah. Aaron began to cry.

I looked into Felicia’s eyes and said quietly, “The cameras record everything. Security is on their way. The police are already being called.”

Felicia went pale. Grace sank to the floor, breathing hard, still rocking the baby.

When the authorities arrived and led Felicia away, the penthouse finally fell silent again. The storm outside had passed, leaving only rain tapping against glass. I sat on the nursery floor beside Grace, surrounded by cribs and soft blankets and the scent of milk.

Isaiah slept peacefully against Grace’s shoulder. For the first time since birth, he was not crying.

I spoke without looking at her.

“How did you know Brielle’s song.”

Grace smiled sadly.