Six months later, while Ethan was in Chicago closing a major deal, Claire made her move. She emptied their joint accounts, cleared the wall safe, and vanished. No goodbye. Not even a message for the twins she left behind.
When Ethan returned, the mansion felt like a shell. The twins were safe, watched over by a stunned housekeeper who had no idea what had happened. Standing in the nursery doorway, Ethan felt rage and grief collide inside him.
He didn’t scream. He didn’t cry.
He only whispered, “Alright. It’s just us now.”
That betrayal hardened something in him. He fired most of the staff. New locks were installed. Alarms upgraded. Surveillance cameras placed in every corridor. The mansion became a fortress—and Ethan became its warden.
He convinced himself it was for the children.
In truth, he was protecting himself.
Nannies came and went. One quit after eleven days. Another lasted a month before breaking down. The third walked out after Ethan yelled at her for humming.
“They need silence,” he snapped.
The agency hesitated before sending anyone else—until Emily Carter arrived.
Emily was in her mid-twenties, soft-spoken, plainly dressed. No makeup. No attitude.