Chapter 1 - The Forty-Seven Minute Lie
The silence in the nursery was cold enough to freeze the blood. Outside, the autumn rain began to strike the tall glass windows of the Moretti estate, a low, rhythmic tapping that echoed off the high ceilings.
Vincent Moretti did not raise his voice. He took three deliberate steps toward Nora Wickham, his tall frame blocking the doorway. His gaze dropped from the clock—10:43—to the crisp leather ledger in her hands.
"You wrote down that my son was fed at 11:30," Vincent said, his voice flat, razor-sharp. "Forty-seven minutes into the future, Nora. Explain that to me."
Nora’s professional mask cracked. A tremor hit her bottom lip, though she quickly tried to pull her shoulders back. "Mr. Moretti, it was simply a clerical error. I... I was preparing the log in advance to save time during my shift. I was going to give him the bottle in a few minutes—"
"He is starving," Vincent cut in, pointing down at five-year-old Lily Carver, who sat quietly on the carpet beside the crib. She was still holding the bottle for infant Enzo, whose small hands gripped the plastic as he drank with desperate, raspy breaths. "And my son is taking food from a five-year-old girl because his 'professional nanny' was busy writing fiction."
Cassandra Vale stepped smoothly into the nursery, the rustle of her white silk dress breaking the tension. She laid a gloved hand on Vincent’s forearm.
"Vincent, darling, let's not make a grand scene over a simple mistake," Cassandra said softly, her eyes sweeping over Lily with subtle disdain. "Nora has impeccably high credentials from London. The maid’s child should not be in the master wing touching the baby's feeding equipment. It’s unhygienic."
Vincent slowly looked down at Cassandra’s gloved hand on his arm until she felt the chill in his eyes and pulled her hand back.
"The maid—Emily—is unconscious in my hallway," Vincent said quietly. "And her five-year-old daughter is the only person in this ten-million-dollar house who heard my son crying."
Vincent walked past Cassandra and knelt beside Lily on the floor. The little girl flinched slightly, pulling her feet back, her bunny clip slipping further sideways in her hair.
"Lily," Vincent said gently, his voice softening in a way none of the staff had ever heard before. "Did your mommy make this bottle?"
Lily nodded quickly. "Mommy put the red string on it. But... but the knot was changed."
Vincent’s eyes narrowed. "Changed how?"
"Mommy makes bunny ears," Lily whispered, pointing her small finger at the red cloth tag hanging from the bottle's neck. "Someone tied it like a snake. A tight knot. Mrs. Hargrove told Mommy to leave, and then the baby started crying."
Mrs. Hargrove, standing by the door frame, stiffened, her hands clutching her apron. "Mr. Moretti, the child is confused. She’s making up stories to protect her mother, who collapsed from sheer incompetence—"
"Silence, Hargrove," Vincent commanded without looking up.
He reached out, his long fingers gently loosening the tight, single knot on the red tag. Hidden inside the folds of the red fabric was a faint white powder residue that had not been fully dissolved.
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Vincent’s jaw set into stone. He turned his head toward his personal head of security, Dominic, who had just stepped into the hallway.
"Dominic," Vincent ordered, standing up to his full height. "Lock down the estate. Nobody leaves this property. Call Dr. Harrison immediately, and tell him to bring a full toxicology field kit."
