Chapter 2 - The Trap Door
The air inside the nursery turned instantly frigid.
Brenda Thompson didn't raise her voice. She didn't need to. Her power in the McGregor household had been built over six years of quiet, insidious authority. She walked past Sarah toward the bed, her sharp eyes scanning Finley’s flush cheeks, the faint dampness at his temples, and his crutches leaning against the nightstand where Sarah had hastily tucked them.
“Exertion,” Brenda murmured, touching a gloved finger to Finley’s forehead. “Elevated body temperature. Rapid pulse. You’re playing a very dangerous game with another woman’s child, Sarah.”
“He isn't sick, Brenda,” Sarah said, keeping her voice low so as not to wake the exhausted boy. She stood her ground between Brenda and the bed. “He’s tired because his muscles are doing what they were made to do. I’ve seen his original medical records. The diagnosis six years ago was based on an acute inflammatory response, not a degenerative motor condition. He was kept in that chair until his limbs withered from disuse!”
Brenda let out a short, hollow laugh that held no humor. “And where did you receive your medical degree, Miss O'Connell? A weekend online certificate? Dr. Evans is the leading pediatric neurologist in the state. Mr. McGregor pays him a fortune to oversee Finley’s care. Are you suggesting Dr. Evans is incompetent?”
“I’m suggesting someone benefits from keeping Finley helpless!” Sarah retorted, stepping closer, her chest heaving. “Because as long as Finley is a fragile invalid, Mr. McGregor needs a high-priced full-time manager, a private medical staff, and an exclusive clinic—all run through your logistics company!”
Brenda’s eyes narrowed into slivers of green ice. The polite facade shattered, revealing the calculating monster underneath.
“You have five minutes to pack your bags,” Brenda said, her voice dropping into a lethal whisper. “If you are still on this property in ten minutes, I will call the police and have you arrested for child endangerment, trespassing, and medical malpractice. I will ensure your name is blacklisted from every agency in the country. You will never work with a child again.”
Sarah felt her stomach drop into a dark, cold void. If she was thrown out tonight, Finley would be locked back into that chair forever. Brenda would double his sedatives, restrict his movements, and seal his fate.
“You can’t do this,” Sarah whispered.
“I can, and I will,” Brenda replied, reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out her phone. “Mr. McGregor is in Chicago on business until Sunday. I have full power of attorney regarding the domestic staff. Move, Miss O'Connell. Before I make this very ugly.”
Sarah looked back at Finley. The six-year-old was fast asleep, his small hand still clutching the edge of his astronaut blanket, his face peaceful for the first time in his life.
I promised him, Sarah thought, her blood turning to fire. I swore on my brother’s life I wouldn't leave him.
May you like
She looked Brenda squarely in the eye. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Brenda smiled—a cruel, satisfied curve of her red lips. She raised the phone to her ear. “Security? Yes, this is Miss Thompson. We have a rogue employee in the nursery. Send two guards up immediately.”
