Chapter 3

Betty stood off to the side, clutching a rag, her eyes darting away.

I asked her, "Betty, who told you to make the soup for me before I left that day?"

Betty's face went pale. "Mrs. Nolan, it was Mrs. Margaret Nolan who told me to do it."

Margaret's brows shot up. "Why are you even asking? I was trying to help you feel better. Are you saying I messed up?"

"I felt dizzy after drinking that soup," I said.

"That's normal for pregnant women. They get dizzy all the time," Margaret replied.

I pulled the hospital test results out of my bag and set them on the table. "The doctor said there were traces of sedatives in my blood. That stuff's not safe for pregnant women."

Betty's rag slipped from her hand and fell to the floor.

Margaret stared at the test results, her expression flickering before she slipped right back into her usual bossy elder's attitude.

"You think I tried to hurt you? Claire, have you no conscience at all?" she snapped.

"I never said it was you," I replied.

She was at a loss for words.

I looked at Betty. "Who told you to put that in?"

Betty shrank back. "Ma'am, I really don't know. I swear, I don't know anything."

Margaret slammed her hand on the armrest. "Get back to the kitchen."

Betty quickly turned to leave.

"Hey, isn't your son at that school on the west side?" I called after her.

Betty froze mid-step.

"He's got that big competition next month, right? I heard they check if the parents have a clean record, no trouble with the law or anything."

Margaret shot to her feet. "Claire, are you threatening a servant?"

"Just giving her a friendly reminder. Covering for someone always leaves a trace," I replied.

Betty turned back to me, her lips moving as if she wanted to say something.

Margaret stormed over, hand raised, about to slap her.

I grabbed her wrist.

She froze, clearly not expecting me to stand up to her. "Let go of me."

"Let her speak," I said.

Margaret raised her voice. "James, look at the wife you married. She's even daring to lay hands on me now."

James came down the stairs, a faint lipstick mark on his collar.

I saw it.

He noticed me staring and quickly adjusted his collar. "What are you making a fuss about now?"

I pointed at the test results on the table. "There were drugs in the soup I drank before the accident."

James picked up the test results and glanced at them, his brows knitting together. "Are you saying Mom did this to you?"

"I want to know who did it," I replied.

Emily came down the stairs slowly, wrapped in James's jacket. "Claire, do you really think everyone's out to get you?"

She looked at me, tears streaming down her face. "I know you hate me, but Margaret cares about you so much. Why would she ever hurt you?"

Margaret hurried over to support her. "Emily's always so sensible."

I stared at the jacket. "Are you living here now?"

Emily glanced timidly at James.

James said, "She's not feeling well because of the pregnancy, so I let her stay here for a few days."

"Which room is she staying in?" I asked.

No one answered.

I went upstairs and pushed open the nursery next to the master bedroom.

The little bed that used to be there was gone, the bunny wallpaper on the wall was half torn off, and pink curtains had been put up instead.

Emily's dresses were hanging in the closet.

The tiny clothes I'd bought for my baby were stuffed into a cardboard box on the floor, gathering dust.

Emily hurried after me, her voice barely above a whisper. "Claire, I'm so sorry. I had no idea this was the room you'd prepared for your baby. James said it was sitting empty, so he let me stay here for now."

I crouched down and picked up the little clothes one by one.

James stood in the doorway, his tone impatient. "The baby's gone. Why are you still clinging to all this stuff?"

I hugged the tiny onesie to my chest and looked up at him. "Yesterday was the day we lost him."

James fell silent for a moment.

Suddenly, Emily clutched her stomach. "James, my stomach hurts."

James rushed over and pulled her into his arms.

Margaret jabbed a finger at me, her voice sharp with anger. "If anything happens to Emily's baby, you're dead meat."

I stood up, clutching the cardboard box to my chest.

Betty poked her head out from the stairwell, her voice so soft it was almost lost in the air. "Mrs. Nolan, I swear, I didn't add anything to the bird's nest soup. Emily was in the kitchen that day."

Emily's crying stopped dead.

James turned around.

Betty flinched, but she still managed to get the words out: "She said she wanted to serve Mrs. Nolan a plate herself."

James didn't press Emily any further.

He gave Betty a cold stare, his voice barely above a whisper, but full of threat. "Do you know what happens to servants who make up stories about their boss?"

Betty's face went completely pale. "Sir, I'm not making anything up."

Emily leaned into James's arms, her hand pressed to her stomach. "James, let it go. Claire lost her baby. She needs someone to take the fall. Betty got caught up in all this, so don't make things harder for her."

Emily's words left both Betty and me feeling cornered.

Margaret jumped in right away. "Claire, look at Emily. You hit her, accused her, and she's still standing up for the help. And you? All you do is stir up trouble and make this house a mess."

I looked at James. "You really believe her?"

He kept his eyes off the baby clothes I was holding. "Emily would never do something like that."

"Why not?" I asked.

"She has no reason to," he replied.

I let out a laugh. "She took my husband, moved into my baby's room, and now she's pregnant with your child. And you really think she has no motive?"

James's face darkened. "Claire, don't say it like that."

Emily's tears started flowing even harder. "Claire, I know it's hard for you to accept that James can have a child with someone else besides you. But the baby is innocent."

I stepped closer to her.

James immediately pulled her even closer, shielding her protectively. "Are you going to hit her again?"

I thrust the test results into his hand. "Take her to the hospital and have her tested for traces of that drug. Review the kitchen surveillance footage, and check her movements in and out."

Emily gripped James's sleeve tightly. "James, I don't want Claire to humiliate me like this."

James crumpled the test results in his hand. "That's enough."

I fixed my gaze on his hand. "Are you afraid of what they'll find?"

He tossed the paper to the floor. "I'm afraid you're going crazy."

As soon as he said that, the whole room went dead silent.

Margaret was the first to speak up, "That's right, she's totally lost it. Send her to a psych ward for a few days, or she will hurt Emily."

I turned to James. "Is that what you think too?"

He didn't answer right away.

Emily looked up, her voice barely above a whisper. "If you don't want to see me, Claire, I can leave. But with how I am right now, the doctor said I shouldn't be moving around."

James said, "You're not the one who needs to leave."

He turned to me. "Claire, why don't you go stay at the villa outside the city for a few days? Come back when you've had a chance to cool off."