“The cameras show she discarded the bottle after feeding,” the doctor said, eyeing Amara. “Suspicious, wouldn’t you say?”
Cameras. Of course.
“That’s not what happened,” Amara said, voice breaking. “The formula was tampered with. I saved him.”
Elena pressed a dramatic hand to her chest. “Oh, Amara. Jealousy makes people imagine terrible things.”
Doubt seeped into Alejandro’s eyes.
That was when Amara understood.
Elena wasn’t just trying to ruin her.
She was building a case to destroy her.
The house turned against Amara.
Broken vases she never touched. Missing receipts. Accusations whispered behind doors. Elena always watching, her smile thin as a blade.
Alejandro avoided her—not with cruelty, but disappointment. That hurt more than hatred.
Then came the engagement banquet.
Music, champagne, chandeliers blazing. Amara was ordered to stay upstairs with the babies.
From the nursery, she heard Elena’s voice echo through the speakers.
“With great sorrow, I must reveal the truth about our night nanny, Amara Johnson.”
Amara’s blood ran cold.
Downstairs, edited footage played—lies polished to bury her alive.