“I don’t really remember. It just appeared one day, maybe two months ago. I thought it was a gift. Maybe from Eleanor or one of Nicholas’s business partners. I didn’t think much of it.”
“Two months ago.” Exactly when Mikey’s crying started. Sarah kept her face neutral, not wanting to alarm Katherine yet.
“I see. Thank you. I need to do a few more checks.” Katherine nodded and left, too exhausted to ask more questions.
Once the door was shut, Sarah folded the pillow and tucked it into her medical bag. Someone had put that pillow in Mikey’s crib two months ago, and the baby had been in hell ever since. She needed to find out who and why.
Sarah stepped out into the hallway, making sure the nursery door was latched. She pulled her phone from her pocket, her heart racing as she scrolled through her contacts.
Mary Sullivan. An old friend from nursing school who now worked in a toxicology lab in the city.
Sarah hit dial. After three rings, Mary picked up. “Sarah? It’s been a while. What’s up?”
Sarah lowered her voice, glancing around to make sure the hallway was empty. “Mary, I need a huge favor. I need a rush tox screen on a fabric sample. Can you do it?”
There was a short pause. “For you? Anything. Send it over. I’ll have results in 24 hours.”
Sarah exhaled. “Thank you. I owe you one.” She hung up and pulled a small plastic bag from her bag.
Carefully, she used her medical scissors to snip a small piece of fabric from the corner of the silk pillow and sealed it in the bag. She was just tucking it into her pocket when a cold voice startled her. “What are you doing with that pillow?”
Sarah spun around. Eleanor Bennett was standing there, appearing like a ghost. Her gray eyes were narrowed in suspicion, her lips a hard line.
Sarah kept her cool. “I’m examining everything the baby comes into contact with. It’s part of the process.”
Eleanor stepped forward, her heels sharp on the marble. “Give it to me,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “That pillow is expensive Italian silk. You have no right to touch it, let alone cut it.”
Sarah didn’t move. “With all due respect, Mrs. Bennett, I have every right. Your grandson’s health is my priority, and I’m going to investigate anything that might be causing him distress.”
Eleanor’s eyes flashed with rage. She stepped closer, close enough for Sarah to see the fine lines hidden under her makeup. “I told you before, girl,” Eleanor hissed, “you don’t know who you’re dealing with. This family has the power to make people disappear. No one is going to miss a little nurse from the city.”
Sarah met her gaze. “And I told you, I’m dealing with a sick child. That’s all I care about. Not your money, not your threats.”
For a moment, they stood in a tense standoff. Then Eleanor reached out and tried to snatch the pillow from Sarah’s hand. But Sarah was ready.
She held on tight. They struggled for a second, and Sarah was surprised by the strength in the older woman’s grip. But Sarah didn’t give an inch.
Eleanor gripped the pillow harder, her eyes burning. Then, she suddenly let go. Sarah stumbled back slightly, clutching the pillow.
But what chilled Sarah wasn’t the struggle—it was the look in Eleanor’s eyes. Behind the rage and the pride, Sarah saw something else. Fear.
It was only for a split second, but it was there. “You’re making a mistake,” Eleanor said, her voice suddenly cold and distant. She turned and walked away, her heels clicking faster now, as if she were retreating.
Sarah stood there, watching her go, her mind spinning. Why did she want that pillow so badly? Why was she afraid?
“Ms. Jenkins.” The deep voice made Sarah jump. Nicholas Bennett was standing at the end of the hall, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.
How long had he been there? Had he seen everything? Sarah waited.
Nicholas walked over, his eyes on the pillow. “Why does my mother want that thing so badly?” he asked quietly. Sarah looked him in the eye.
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to find out, Nicholas.” There was a long silence, and Sarah could almost see the gears turning in his head. For the first time, Nicholas Bennett was starting to doubt his own mother.
After the confrontation with Eleanor, Nicholas made a request that caught Sarah off guard. “Stay the night,” he said. “Not as an order, but as a favor. Mikey needs to be watched, and right now, I don’t trust anyone else in this house.”
Sarah agreed. She needed to wait for Mary’s results anyway, and staying gave her a chance to keep an eye on things. Steven showed her to a guest room on the second floor, not far from the nursery.
The room was huge and luxurious, with a bed that felt like a cloud. But as exhausted as she was, Sarah couldn’t sleep. She lay there staring at the ceiling, thinking about the pillow, Eleanor, and that look of fear.
At 3:00 AM, Sarah gave up on sleep. She put on a cardigan and slipped out of the room. The mansion was eerily quiet at night.
The statues and paintings looked like silent sentinels watching her every move. Sarah headed down to the kitchen, hoping a glass of water would settle her nerves. The massive kitchen was dark, lit only by the moonlight streaming through the windows.
She was about to walk in when she stopped. Someone was already there. Nicholas was sitting at the kitchen island, his shoulders slumped.
He had a glass of scotch in his hand. He hadn’t turned on the lights; he was just sitting there in the dark. Sarah started to back away, not wanting to intrude. But Nicholas’s voice cut through the shadows. “Can’t sleep either?”
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