Isabel’s hands trembled. She swallowed hard. “Because… eighteen months ago, I helped raise him.”
Adrian’s chest tightened.
“That’s impossible.”
“My sister was his nanny,” Isabel said, voice breaking. “Her name was María Cruz.”
The name hit him like a punch.
María.
The nanny who disappeared without explanation during the darkest period of his life—right after his wife’s death. The one person who had been with Leo when Adrian was drowning in grief and business travel.
“She didn’t leave,” Isabel continued, tears falling freely now. “She was fired.”
Adrian turned slowly—toward his mother, Eleanor Whitmore, who had just reached the group.
“Is that true?” he demanded.
Eleanor’s expression remained perfectly composed. “That woman grew too attached. It wasn’t appropriate. Especially with… changes coming to this family.”
Adrian’s gaze snapped to Charlotte.
Her lips tightened. “I wasn’t going to live in the shadow of a dead wife—or a nanny who thought she was family.”
Leo suddenly looked up and said, clearly, softly:
“María loved me. She sang the moon song.”
The room shattered.
Isabel covered her mouth and nodded. “She sang it every night.”
She began to hum.