“The sedative you’ve been slipping into Lucas’s milk,” Elena continues. “I found the vial in your vanity.”
My vision blurs.
Miranda laughs—a cornered sound. “You’re a nanny. No one will believe you. James already thinks it’s genetic.”
She steps closer.
“Once they declare him unfit, I get guardianship. The trust transfers. And you disappear.”
Lucas whimpers. Elena covers his head protectively.
“I’m not just a nanny,” she says.
She pulls a worn leather medallion from her pocket.
“I was the nursing student assigned to Camille the night she died.”
The room tilts.
“She told me you tampered with her IV,” Elena says, voice shaking but fierce. “She knew you wanted the Whitaker name.”
Miranda’s composure fractures.
“Before she died, she made me promise. If she didn’t survive, I’d find her babies. I’d protect them from you.”
Miranda lunges.
I drop the tablet and run.
The nursery door slams against the wall as I enter.
Miranda’s arm is raised. Elena stands firm, Lucas shielded.
I grab Miranda’s wrist midair.
“The cameras are recording,” I say evenly.
Her eyes flick to the ceiling.
“And the police are on their way.”
The officers arrive quickly. Miranda shifts into tears and confusion. Claims she was “helping.”