Chapter 3: The Crimson Confrontation
Clara’s serene expression didn't break. She merely tightened her grip on the infant. "You really shouldn't have done that, Sarah. It was such a lovely setup."
She moved toward the changing table, her movements predatory. Suddenly, the nursery didn't feel like a sanctuary; it felt like a cage. Mark stepped forward, his confusion replaced by a primal, protective fury. "Put her down," he commanded, his voice deep and vibrating with suppressed violence.
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"Oh, Mark," Clara sighed, adjusting her lace cuffs. "Do you really think you can just fire me? You haven't looked at your bank statements in weeks, have you?"
She pulled a small, jagged key from her pocket. It was the key to the family’s high-security wall safe. "I’ve been the one managing your investments. I’ve been the one holding the strings. If I go to prison, you don't just lose a nanny. You lose everything. Your house, your business, your reputation."
