Chapter 1 - THE NURSERY SCREEN AND THE SHATTERED GLASS
At exactly 9:15 that morning, my phone vibrated in the cup holder as the main nursery camera went offline again. This time, I was ready, instantly opening the live feed from the hidden camera I had installed the night before. A thin, distorted cry came through my phone speaker, followed by my mother's voice—low, controlled, and entirely unlike the cheerful facade she maintained online. My wife, Clara, was supposed to be on strict bed rest recovering from a near-fatal postpartum hemorrhage, yet there she was on the nursery floor, trying to navigate shattered glass and crushed tablets scattered across the hardwood. My mother stood over her with our newborn son tucked against her chest, stepping back every time Clara reached out, demanding she clean the mess before she could hold her baby.
