Chapter 2 - Lina's Notebook
I didn't confront Clara.
Every instinct in me wanted to walk down the hallway, drag her from the guest room, place the footage in front of her, and demand the truth.
But rage had already cost me weeks of clear thinking.
This time, I wanted evidence.
I called Lina at 4:12 a.m.
She answered from the nursery.
"Mr. Blackwood?"
"Come to my study."
A pause.
"Is Mateo okay?"
"Bring whatever you've been keeping from me."
Silence.
Then she whispered, "You finally watched the cameras."
Ten minutes later, Lina stood across from my desk.
She placed a blue notebook in front of me.
It contained dates.
Times.
Feeding quantities.
Symptoms.
Bottle numbers.
Names.
And Clara's movements.
Lina had been documenting everything for eleven days.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I tried."
"When?"
"The night you accused me of neglecting Mateo."
I remembered.
Everyone in this house watches me instead of watching Mateo.
"You should have been clearer."
"You weren't listening."
The truth hurt because she was right.
Lina opened the notebook.
"Mateo's episodes aren't random."
She showed me a pattern.
The worst episodes occurred after bottles prepared overnight.
The symptoms decreased whenever Lina personally prepared every feeding.
She had already replaced formula twice, believing contamination might be accidental.
Then she began noticing Clara.
"Three nights ago, I pretended to leave the nursery."
"What happened?"
"She came in seven minutes later."
"Did you see what she did?"
"No. I heard the door."
"Why didn't you call me?"
Lina stared at me.
"Because Clara spent weeks making you believe I was incompetent. If I accused your dead wife's sister without proof, who would you believe?"
I couldn't answer.
That silence was my answer.
I pushed the laptop toward her.
"Watch."
She saw Clara enter the nursery.
Saw the bottle.
Heard the words.
Just like your mother should have.
Lina covered her mouth.
"Mr. Blackwood..."
"Damian."
She looked at me.
"What did Clara mean?"
"I don't know."
But I intended to find out.
We contacted Mateo's pediatric specialist before sunrise.
The bottle from the recording was gone, but Lina had saved samples from two earlier feedings because she suspected something was wrong.
For the first time, I understood why she had been entering Aurelia's old music room.
There was a small refrigerator there.
Aurelia used to keep medication and drinks inside during long rehearsals.
Lina had hidden the samples there because Clara never entered that room.
By 7:30 a.m., a private courier was taking them to a laboratory.
At 8:10, Clara walked into breakfast smiling.
"Good morning."
I looked at her.
For years, she had been family.
She had stood beside me at Aurelia's funeral.
She had held Samuel.
She had hugged me while I cried.
Now I noticed something else.
She never asked about Mateo.
Instead she looked toward Lina.
"You're still here?"
Lina lowered her eyes.
I understood immediately.
Clara expected me to fire her.
I played along.
"Actually, Lina and I spoke."
Clara poured coffee.
"And?"
"I think you were right."
Lina's face remained perfectly still.
Clara smiled.
"I knew eventually you'd see it."
"I'll handle the situation."
"Good."
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
"Aurelia would want you to protect those boys."
The hypocrisy nearly made me stand.
Instead, I smiled back.
"I'm beginning to understand that."
That afternoon, I called Marcus Hale, my attorney and oldest friend.
Marcus had known Aurelia almost as long as I had.
I showed him the footage.
His face changed.
"Do not confront Clara."
"That's already the plan."
"We need toxicology results."
"And Aurelia's medical records."
Marcus looked at me carefully.
"Damian."
"What?"
"You think these things are connected."
"I don't know."
"That's not what I asked."
I stared at the frozen image of Clara leaning over Mateo.
"Yes."
Marcus exhaled.
Then he said something unexpected.
"Aurelia called me six days before the twins were born."
My chair seemed to disappear beneath me.
"What?"
"She wanted to change her estate documents."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because she never completed the changes."
"What changes?"
Marcus hesitated.
"She wanted Clara removed from something."
"From what?"
"A trust."
I felt the room tighten.
Aurelia came from old money, although she rarely discussed it. Her grandfather had built a European shipping fortune. Her mother had left Aurelia and Clara equal portions of a family trust.
"How much?"
Marcus looked uncomfortable.
"At current valuation? Approximately one hundred eighty million dollars."
I stood.
"And Clara was connected how?"
"If Aurelia died without surviving children, Clara inherited Aurelia's portion."
"But Aurelia had children."
"Exactly."
My eyes moved toward the ceiling.
Toward the nursery upstairs.
Marcus continued.
"When Mateo and Samuel were born alive, Aurelia's share transferred into trusts for them."
The implication hit me.
Clara didn't inherit.
My sons did.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
It was the laboratory.
The specialist spoke carefully.
The saved samples contained a substance that did not belong in infant formula.
Not enough to immediately kill a healthy adult.
But potentially dangerous for a newborn with Mateo's vulnerability.
I sat down.
Lina began crying silently.
Marcus asked the question I couldn't.
"Can you identify the substance?"
"Yes."
The specialist named it.
My mind went blank.
I had heard the name before.
Not from Mateo's doctors.
From Aurelia.
She had been given the same medication during the final week of her pregnancy.
I opened Aurelia's medical records.
There it was.
Same name.
Same compound.
And suddenly Clara's whispered sentence became something far more terrifying.
Just like your mother should have.
Before I could speak, my phone vibrated again.
Security alert.
Camera 19.
Aurelia's music room.
Someone had entered.
I opened the live feed.
Clara stood beside the hidden refrigerator.
The refrigerator door was open.
She stared at the empty shelf where Lina's samples had been.
Then Clara slowly turned toward the room.
May you like
She knew something was missing.
And from the expression on her face, she knew someone had discovered her secret.
