I walked in and saw my baby hanging over the second-floor railing in my stepmother’s arms.

The television played the final seconds of the footage once more and then went dark.

No one spoke. I could hear Emma's quiet breathing against my chest. I could hear Clara struggling quietly to stifle her sobs. But louder than anything, I could hear the ringing in my own ears.

Vanessa stood frozen. Her mouth opened as if to speak, but nothing came out. She looked at Olivia first—sharp, resentful eyes—and then turned to me, trying to pull the mask back on.

"Adrian," she said, her voice thin and breathless. "It—it must have been an angle. You can't possibly think that I—"

"The camera doesn't lie," Olivia said calmly. She disconnected the phone, never taking her eyes off her stepmother. "I watched it three times before I called you down. It was you. You hurt her."

"She's a child!" Vanessa snapped, turning on her, desperation sharpening into cruelty. "You don't understand what you're seeing! You're trying to ruin me—"

"Stop it."

My voice was quiet, but Vanessa flinched as if I had shouted. I shifted Emma higher in my arms, feeling her tiny fingers tighten in my shirt. I looked at my wife—the woman I had stood beside at the altar, the woman who had promised to be a mother to my girls.

And I barely recognized her.

"Leave the nursery, Vanessa," I said. "Please."

"Adrian, don't do this—"

"Leave." There was no room for argument. "Go downstairs. Wait for me in the study. I will speak to you when I have settled Emma."

Vanessa stared at me, searching my face for any hint of doubt, any softening. When she found none, her expression hardened into something cold and unfamiliar. Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room, the hem of her dress swishing sharply with every step.

The door clicked shut behind her.

I let out a breath I felt I had been holding since the moment I heard Emma scream. I looked at Clara. She was still standing where she had been, head bowed, tears dripping onto the floorboards.

"Clara," I said gently.

She looked up quickly, wiping her face with her sleeve. "Mr. Adrian, I swear—I never touched that child except to help—"

"I know," I told her. "I saw. I believe you. I am so incredibly sorry."

Clara nodded, fresh tears spilling over. She pressed her lips together and swallowed hard. "Thank you, sir. Would you like me to prepare a warm bottle? Or perhaps a change of sheets?"

"That would be kind. Thank you, Clara."

She gave one last quiet nod and slipped past me out of the room. Olivia remained standing near the television, her arms wrapped around herself, watching me worriedly.

I walked over and placed Emma gently back into her crib. She whimpered and reached for me again, so I sat on the edge of the mattress, holding her small hand until she settled. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks streaked with tears. I stroked her soft hair, my chest aching so badly it felt bruised.

When Emma's breathing had finally evened out into sleep, I stood up slowly and turned to my oldest daughter.

"You did well," I told her quietly. "Thank you. If you hadn't been watching… God knows what she would have made me believe."

Olivia stepped forward and wrapped her arms around my waist. I hugged her tightly. She smelled like lavender and sunshine.

"I didn't want to say anything at first," Olivia murmured against my chest. "I was afraid you'd believe her over me. You always seem to… like her better."

Her words twisted something sharp inside me.

"Never," I said firmly, pulling back to look her in the eye. "Never, Olivia. I love you. I love your sister. And I will protect you both, no matter who stands against you. Do you understand me?"

She nodded, though her expression remained troubled.

"Dad… why would she do it?" Olivia asked softly. "Emma is just a baby. She hasn't done anything to anyone. Why pretend to save her when she was the one who hurt her?"

I had no answer. Not one that made sense. Not one I wanted to accept.

"I don't know," I admitted. "But I am going to find out. Stay up here with Emma, please. Keep the door locked until I come back. Don't open it for anyone but me."

Olivia's eyes widened slightly, but she nodded. "Okay. Be careful, Dad."

I kissed her forehead, then walked out into the hallway. As I descended the stairs toward the study, my legs felt heavy. I didn't know what Vanessa was capable of. I didn't know how deep her lies ran.

But I was about to find out.