The phone slipped from Isabel’s trembling hand, clattering against the polished floor. Emergency guardianship. Natalia didn’t just want Noah; she wanted the massive estate tied to him.
“The police are already on their way, Isabel,” Natalia purred, her nervous facade vanishing into a cold, triumphant smile. “A hysterical widow, off her medication, trying to poison her own baby… Who else would the courts trust to raise the billionaire heir?”
Natalia took a step back, savoring her total victory.
But Marta didn’t cower. The fifty-two-year-old nanny slowly stood up, wiping a drop of blood from her lip. Her terrified tears were gone, replaced by a steely glare.
“You’re right about one thing, Natalia,” Marta said, her voice eerily calm. “Prescription sedatives don’t turn green when exposed to milk.”
Natalia froze. “What?”
Isabel stepped in front of the crib, her shock hardening into absolute ice. She reached down and pulled back the thick, heavy blankets.
The crib was empty.
“Noah has been safely at my mother’s house since yesterday,” Isabel whispered. “The pediatrician didn’t say his weakness was normal. He ran a toxicology panel. Someone had been micro-dosing my son with heavy metals for weeks.”
Natalia’s eyes darted back to the shattered glass on the floor, the glowing green liquid seeping into the expensive wood.
“That isn’t milk,” Marta said, pulling a hidden nanny-cam from the glass eye of a stuffed bear. “It’s a liquid chemical reagent. It turns fluorescent green upon contact with arsenic.”
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder, cutting through the silence of the luxury estate.
“You filed for guardianship this morning,” Isabel said, quietly locking the nursery door from the inside. “Which means when the police walk through that door, they won’t just have a motive. They’ll have premeditation.”
Natalia lunged for the handle, but Isabel didn’t flinch. The trap had snapped shut.