Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Wanted the Babies
Seraphina arrived at the estate at six in the morning wearing a camel coat over black silk and enough anger to heat the entire foyer.
She did not come alone.
Her attorney, Mara Kendrick, walked beside her carrying a leather portfolio.
Marco met them at the security checkpoint.
I met them in the library.
Seraphina did not sit.
“Where are the babies?”
“Safe.”
“I want to see them.”
“No.”
Her face hardened.
“Adrien.”
“Not until you explain the videos.”
Mara Kendrick placed one hand on Seraphina’s arm.
“I recommend we start with facts.”
I looked at her.
“I recommend you understand that footage was illegally recorded inside my children’s bedroom.”
“We understand.”
“No. You don’t.”
Seraphina snapped, “I didn’t put the camera there.”
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who sent you the videos?”
“Anonymous account.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She laughed.
“Because the videos showed you screaming in the nursery.”
“At guards.”
“Do you think a judge sees that distinction first?”
I stepped closer.
Mara moved slightly.
Not afraid.
Alert.
Seraphina continued.
“They showed the babies crying for hours. Staff running. You slamming furniture. Armed men outside the door.”
“Security.”
“That’s the problem, Adrien. You hear security. I see infants growing up in a fortress.”
Anger rose.
Then I remembered Sophie telling me the babies were scared.
I forced myself to stay still.
“Did you file for guardianship before or after receiving the first video?”
Seraphina hesitated.
“After.”
“Who suggested it?”
“The sender.”
Mara looked at her.
I caught it.
“You didn’t tell your attorney that.”
Seraphina’s face changed.
“I said the videos came anonymously.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Mara opened the folder.
“Seraphina, did the sender specifically instruct you to file?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew what you’d say.”
Mara closed the folder.
“That matters.”
Seraphina looked frustrated.
I said, “Show me everything.”
“No.”
Marco shifted by the door.
Seraphina looked at him.
Then at me.
“Do not try to intimidate me.”
“I’m not.”
“You have three armed men in the hall.”
“This is my house.”
“Exactly.”
Mara interrupted.
“We can copy the messages to an independent forensic examiner.”
Good.
“Do it.”
Seraphina finally sat.
For the first time, she looked tired rather than furious.
“I thought I was protecting them.”
I believed that.
Unfortunately, people had done terrible things under that sentence.
The first anonymous message arrived fourteen days earlier.
YOUR SISTER’S CHILDREN ARE NOT SAFE.
Then a video.
Nora crying.
A second message.
HE LOSES CONTROL MORE THAN YOU KNOW.
Then another clip of me shouting at a guard.
Two days later:
IF YOU LOVE CAMILLE, GET THEM OUT BEFORE SOMETHING HAPPENS.
Seraphina contacted Mara.
Mara advised documenting everything before acting.
Then the sender delivered clips at increasing frequency.
A package arrived at Seraphina’s apartment containing copies of household incident reports.
One mentioned a firearm discharged in the west courtyard.
Another mentioned a vehicle explosion on an estate road.
Both were real.
Neither had endangered the children.
But the pattern looked terrible.
Seraphina whispered, “What was I supposed to think?”
“That someone had access to confidential reports.”
“I did.”
“And you still filed.”
“Yes.”
I looked at her.
She looked back.
We had both loved Camille.
That had never made us allies.
“Did Camille ever tell you she wanted me to lose custody?”
“No.”
That answer came fast.
“Did she ever tell you she feared me with the children?”
Seraphina looked away.
“Not with them.”
“With what?”
“Your world.”
Fair.
Mara slid the message printouts toward Marco.
“Metadata is preserved.”
He nodded.
“We’ll copy everything.”
Seraphina’s perfume reached me when she moved.
Orange blossom.
I hated that.
“Sophie smelled your perfume on the person who entered the linen closet.”
Seraphina stared.
“What?”
“You wear orange blossom.”
“So do thousands of women.”
“Yes.”
Mara said, “Do you own any housekeeping or maintenance uniform?”
Seraphina looked offended.
“No.”
“Anyone in your staff?”
“No.”
Then she reached into her purse.
A small bottle.
Orange-blossom perfume.
She placed it on the table.
“I wore this to the estate last month.”
“Why?”
“It was Camille’s.”
I froze.
“What?”
“She left it in my apartment years ago. I found it after she died.”
Seraphina’s voice softened.
“I wore it when I came to see the babies because Nora used to calm down when Camille held her. I thought maybe the smell…”
She stopped.
That hurt more than suspicion.
Then Marco entered quickly.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We pulled the metadata from one of the videos.”
Seraphina stood.
“And?”
“The sender stripped most of it.”
“Most?”
Marco looked at me.
“One file retained an internal route tag.”
He handed me the tablet.
MF-EXEC-17.
Moretti Foundation Executive Network.
Not Seraphina’s office.
Mine.
Or rather, a network used by the nonprofit foundation my uncle Victor chaired.
Seraphina went pale.
“Victor?”
I stared at the tag.
Victor Moretti was my father’s older brother.
He had held me at my baptism.
He had sat beside me at Camille’s funeral.
He brought silver rattles for the triplets when they were born.
He also controlled one of the few administrative networks that touched the estate without going through Marco.
The Moretti Foundation funded renovation projects.
Including the nursery ventilation upgrade.
I looked at Marco.
“Where is Victor?”
“At the foundation office.”
“Do not call him.”
Seraphina stood.
“What are you going to do?”
The old version of me already knew.
Drive downtown.
Close the doors.
Make Victor explain.
The new problem was that someone had built this trap expecting exactly that version.
I sat back down.
“Nothing yet.”
Marco raised an eyebrow.
Seraphina stared.
Mara said, “That may be the smartest thing anyone has said this morning.”
I ignored her.
“Get me every foundation payment tied to this estate. Every contractor. Every maintenance authorization. Quietly.”
Marco nodded.
Then Sophie appeared in the doorway holding her ugly rabbit.
Elena followed, embarrassed.
“I’m sorry. She woke up.”
Sophie looked at Seraphina.
Then wrinkled her nose.
“Flower smell.”
Every adult froze.
Seraphina crouched.
“Do you remember smelling this?”
She held out the bottle.
Sophie leaned closer.
Then shook her head.
“No.”
Seraphina blinked.
“But you said orange flowers.”
Sophie pointed to the bottle.
“That’s pretty.”
Then she pointed toward the hallway.
“The bad man smelled sour.”
I looked at Marco.
“Sour?”
Sophie searched for words.
“Orange cleaner.”
Elena inhaled sharply.
“Citrus degreaser.”
Not perfume.
Industrial cleaning solvent.
Marco was already moving.
The maintenance contractor who serviced the linen access panel used a citrus-based degreaser sold only to commercial HVAC companies.
Victor was still a possibility.
May you like
But Seraphina had just stopped being the obvious answer.
And whoever built the trap had counted on us hating each other enough not to notice.
