“It’s okay,” I told her. “Marcus is taking him downstairs to the paramedics. They’re on the way.”
She stared at me, searching my face like she no longer trusted reality.
Then she looked at Marcus.
He had worked for me for seven years. He was a quiet man with three children of his own and the calm hands of someone who understood fear.
“I won’t let anyone hurt him, Mrs. Sterlington,” he said softly.
Sophie kissed Julian’s forehead before surrendering him.
The moment the baby left her arms, she seemed to collapse inward.
I moved toward her.
Penelope moved too.
“Don’t touch her,” I said.
My mother stopped.
Her face hardened, but only around the edges.
“Nicholas, this is absurd. You’re emotional. You don’t understand what you saw.”
“I saw you assault my wife.”
“You saw me restrain an unstable woman.”
“I saw you drug her.”
“She’s ill.”
“She asked for a doctor for our son.”
“She exaggerates everything.”
“She was bleeding.”
“She does that to herself.”
The words came out so fast, so practiced, that I realized this was not a lie she had invented today.
