Chapter 1
The nanny was feeding my daughter dinner, softly humming a tune as she brought the spoon to her mouth and pulled it away again.
Her movements were so natural and practiced that it didn't look like she had only been caring for a three-month-old baby.
I lay on the couch with my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. Then I heard her whisper gently, "Good girl, open wide. You're exactly like your brother when he was little. He loved this egg custard too."
My mind went blank.
My daughter was my first child. So where did this "brother" come from?
I didn't move. My eyelids stayed tightly shut, but my heartbeat was pounding so hard it felt like it was about to burst out of my chest.
The nanny didn't realize I was awake. She continued talking softly.
And the next sentence she said made every drop of blood in my body run cold.
*****
Taylor was the one who brought Willow into our home.
She was fifty-two, quick on her feet, spoke softly, and never made a fuss or tried to show off.
On her very first day, she sorted Isobel's tiny clothes by color and sterilized the bottles three times over.
Back then, I was still recovering from childbirth, my back ached, and I couldn't get a full night's sleep. I'd lost a lot of weight.
Taylor said, "With someone reliable helping you, I can focus on work without worrying."
I nodded.
Back then, I was truly grateful to him.
Isobel was eight months old now, already sitting up and babbling away.
She wasn't into solid food at all, and she especially hated egg custard.
Whenever I tried to feed her, she'd spit out half of every bite.
But when Willow fed her, she was way better behaved.
Willow always had a trick up her sleeve.
She'd run the spoon along the rim of the bowl to check the temperature, then gently touch it to Isobel's lips.
"Isobel, open wide," she'd say softly. "Good girl, just one more bite."
Her voice was low and gentle, like she'd spent a lifetime calming little ones.
At first, I figured she knew what she was doing.
She never got nosy about our family stuff.
When Taylor came home late, she never asked where he'd been.
When Eloise Francis, my mother-in-law, showed up once a month, she never said much.
She looked after Isobel, cooked, and cleaned up.
She was tidy, honest, and quiet.
I finally felt like I could relax.
That day, I was running a slight fever.
When I was changing Isobel's diaper that morning, my hand brushed against my forehead and I realized I was burning up.
Taylor had already left for work.
Before he left, he only told me he had a meeting and might not be home for dinner.
I didn't bother stopping him.
These days, he was so busy that it felt like home was just a place to crash.
I took some fever meds and sat on the couch, waiting for them to kick in.
The living room curtains were half-drawn, blocking out most of the sunlight, leaving the room dim and hazy.
Isobel was in her high chair, banging on the tray.
Willow came out with the egg custard.
The custard was silky smooth, with a few drops of walnut oil sprinkled on top.
She stirred it gently with a spoon and sat down in front of Isobel.
"Isobel, let's try just two little bites today, okay?" Willow coaxed softly.
Isobel turned her head away.
Willow smiled gently.
She wasn't in a hurry.
She dabbed a little bit on the tip of the spoon and gently held it up to Isobel's lips.
Isobel tasted it, and, to my surprise, she didn't spit it out.
I slumped back on the couch, my eyelids so heavy I could barely keep them open.
The meds were starting to kick in, making me feel drowsy.
I was planning to take a nap.
But then Willow started humming a little tune.
It was soft and gentle, something I'd never heard before.
It sounded like the kind of tune an old grandma would hum to soothe a baby back home.
Willow kept up a gentle rhythm, feeding Isobel one spoonful after another.
The spoon tapped softly against the edge of the bowl.
Isobel took another bite.
Willow's voice grew even softer.
"Good girl, open wide," she coaxed. "Just like your brother when he was little. He loved this egg custard too."
My mind went blank for a second.
In that instant, all the sounds in the room seemed to fade away.
Only the word 'brother' hammered in my ears.
Isobel was my first child.
When I was pregnant with her, I kept every ultrasound and doctor's note.
When I gave birth, Taylor waited outside the delivery room for six hours.
Where's this "brother" coming from?
I didn't move.
I pressed my eyelids shut.
But my fingers gripped the edge of the couch, tense.
Willow didn't notice I was awake.
She kept gently coaxing Isobel.
"Just one more bite," Willow coaxed. "Your brother was exactly like this when he was little;he'd push the spoon away at first, but after the second bite, he'd be begging for more."
Isobel banged on her tray and gave a quick giggle.
Normally, that sound would melt my heart.
But that day, it just sent a chill down my spine.
After Willow fed Isobel another spoonful, she murmured, "You two siblings even laugh the same."
"You two siblings even laugh the same," Willow said quietly.
I held my breath.
Siblings? What siblings?
That wasn't just a slip of the tongue.
She wasn't talking about some kid from another family.
She said it like it was the most normal thing in the world.
She made it sound like she'd known that kid forever.
It was like Isobel and that kid were always supposed to be mentioned in the same breath.
I couldn't open my eyes.
I didn't dare to.
I was afraid she'd see the look in my eyes.