The specialist, Dr. Julian Vane, dismissed it as “colic.”
My sister-in-law, Beatrice, had another theory. She said it was my fault—that I was too emotionally distant—and insisted the boys needed a “proper family environment.” What she really meant was that she wanted control of the Thorne Trust and expected me to hand over legal guardianship.

Then Elena arrived.

THE GIRL NO ONE NOTICED

Elena was twenty-four, a nursing student juggling three jobs. She spoke softly, blended into the background, and never asked for more money. She made only one request: permission to sleep in the nursery with the twins.

Beatrice despised her.

“She’s lazy,” Beatrice murmured one evening over dinner. “I saw her sitting in the dark for hours doing nothing. And who knows—maybe she’s stealing Seraphina’s jewelry while you’re gone. You should keep an eye on her.”

Fueled by grief and suspicion, I spent $100,000 installing top-of-the-line infrared surveillance cameras throughout the house. I didn’t tell Elena. I wanted proof.

For two weeks, I avoided the footage, burying myself in work instead. But one rainy Tuesday at 3:00 a.m., unable to sleep, I opened the secure feed on my tablet.