Chapter 5 - The Warning My Wife Left Behind|
Detective Brooks took one look at the message and ordered me not to delete it.
"Do you recognize the number?"
"No."
"Has anyone threatened you before?"
"Plenty of people."
I almost laughed.
Running a billion-dollar company meant receiving threats from competitors, angry investors, and people who believed money could solve every disappointment.
But this was different.
Someone had photographed my eight-month-old son inside his own nursery.
And now that person was threatening the woman who had tried to protect him.
"Detective, Emily needs protection."
Brooks glanced toward the waiting room.
"We'll assess the threat and take the necessary precautions."
"I can arrange private security."
"Do not send strangers to surround her without her consent."
The correction stung.
But she was right.
Only hours earlier, I had controlled Emily's future with a single sentence.
I wasn't going to repeat that mistake by deciding what safety looked like without asking her.
I approached Emily and showed her the message.
Her face went pale.
"That was taken this morning."
"How do you know?"
"Look at Zion's blanket."
I studied the photograph.
A tiny blue elephant was tucked beside his pillow.
"Mrs. Alvarez washed that blanket yesterday."
"She only put it back in the crib this morning."
Emily looked frightened.
"Someone was watching him."
I felt sick.
Not because someone had entered my house.
Because someone with access to my home had begun treating my son like a bargaining chip.
By evening, the story had reached the internet.
A popular gossip account posted a photograph of Emily standing beside the kitchen sink.
The caption was devastating.
BILLIONAIRE'S BABY HOSPITALIZED AFTER MAID'S UNAUTHORIZED BATH.
Within an hour, thousands of people were sharing it.
Strangers called Emily reckless.
Some accused her of poisoning my child.
Others demanded that she be arrested.
None of them knew about the patch.
None of them knew that Emily had brought evidence to the hospital.
And nobody asked why the trusted nanny had left an infant alone with someone she claimed was unqualified.
My public relations director called repeatedly.
"Marcus, we need a statement."
"Then prepare one."
"We should emphasize that the employee acted without permission."
"No."
"Sir, the market is already reacting."
"I don't care."
"Your reputation—"
"Her reputation is being destroyed because of something I said."
Silence followed.
Then I spoke more quietly.
"We are not sacrificing an innocent woman to protect our image."
My director tried again.
"Sir, we don't know that she's innocent."
"Then we tell people there's an investigation."
"We don't invent a conclusion."
I ended the call.
For years, I had been surrounded by people who understood how to protect a billionaire's reputation.
That night, I discovered how few understood how to protect an ordinary person's dignity.
Shortly before midnight, Mrs. Rosa Alvarez arrived at the hospital.
She had worked in my home for eleven years.
Hannah had loved her.
And unlike Margaret, Rosa had never tried to make herself indispensable.
She simply did her job, cared about the family, and went home to her grandchildren.
When she saw Emily, she hurried toward her.
"Oh, sweetheart."
Emily stood.
Rosa wrapped her arms around her.
"I heard what happened."
Emily began crying.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Alvarez."
"Don't apologize to me."
Rosa held her tighter.
"You were worried about that baby for days."
I stood a few feet away.
Every word was another reminder of what I had ignored.
"Rosa," I said.
"May I ask you something?"
She turned.
"Of course, Mr. Marcus."
"Did Emily ever tell you she was concerned about Zion?"
"Yes, sir."
"More than once?"
"Several times."
My stomach dropped.
"Why didn't anyone tell me?"
Rosa looked down.
"Margaret said the boy's health was her responsibility."
"She told us the baby's doctor had approved his routine."
"And whenever someone asked questions, she said you didn't want the household staff interfering."
I remembered my own rules.
No unnecessary interruptions.
No household disagreements brought to my office.
No questioning management decisions without an appointment.
I had designed those rules to make my life easier.
Someone had used them to keep people silent.
"Rosa, did you ever see Margaret doing anything unusual?"
She hesitated.
"Last Thursday, I saw her speaking with a man near the service entrance."
"Who?"
"He wore a jacket from the security company."
"What did they discuss?"
"I couldn't hear everything."
"But he handed her a small package."
I felt my pulse quicken.
"Did you see where she took it?"
"Upstairs."
"Toward the nursery."
Rosa clasped her hands.
"I thought it was something for the baby's room."
Then her eyes filled with tears.
"Mr. Marcus, I should have told you."
I shook my head.
"No."
I had heard enough people accepting blame for my failures.
"You are telling me now."
Rosa looked at Emily.
"There's something else."
She reached into her handbag.
From a small fabric pouch, she removed a cream-colored envelope.
My name was written across the front.
The handwriting struck me like a physical blow.
Hannah.
My wife.
The woman I had buried four months earlier.
My fingers trembled as I accepted it.
"Where did you get this?"
Rosa wiped her eyes.
"Mrs. Hannah gave it to me three days before her accident."
I stared at her.
"Why didn't you give it to me?"
"She asked me to wait until she could speak with you herself."
"Then the accident happened."
Rosa's voice broke.
"After the funeral, you told us to put away anything that reminded you of her."
"I tried twice to bring you the envelope."
"Both times, you asked me to leave."
I remembered those weeks.
The unbearable silence.
The empty side of our bed.
The sound of Zion crying in the nursery while I sat alone in my office.
I had convinced myself that avoiding Hannah's belongings would make the grief survivable.
Instead, I had shut out the people who were trying to help me.
I turned the envelope over.
The seal was still intact.
"What's inside?" Emily asked gently.
"I don't know."
Rosa touched my arm.
"Mr. Marcus, your wife was worried about something before she died."
My breath caught.
"What?"
Rosa's eyes moved toward the hospital doors.
"She didn't trust Mr. Vale anymore."
The world seemed to stop.
Then I opened the envelope.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
May you like
And the first sentence made my knees buckle.
"Marcus, if you're reading this, please stop trusting Sebastian with our son's future."
