The scream tore through the night like a blade. It was just past three in the morning, and its echo bounced off the marble corridors of the Caldwell estate, jolting everyone awake. Again.

Naomi Reed pressed her palm against the cool wooden nursery door. Even at this hour, her dark uniform was immaculate, the white apron tied tight at her waist. She inhaled slowly before turning the handle.

At twenty-eight, Naomi had seen hardship before. She’d worked in the house barely half a year, yet the last few weeks felt endless. The cries coming from the nursery weren’t normal. They weren’t the restless sounds of a fussy newborn. They were raw. Panicked. As if something was deeply wrong.

“Naomi!”

Eleanor Caldwell’s voice cut through the hallway. The billionaire’s wife stood at the top of the stairs, wrapped in a silk robe, exhaustion etched into her sharp features.

“Why is he still screaming? This should’ve been handled already.”

Naomi lowered her eyes but kept her voice steady. “Mrs. Caldwell, I’ve tried everything. He won’t settle.”

“I don’t pay you to try,” Eleanor snapped. “I pay you to fix it.” The chandelier’s light glinted off her diamond earrings as she turned away.

“My husband has a board meeting in four hours. Make it stop.”

Then she was gone, leaving Naomi alone with the cries.

The nursery smelled faintly of lavender and money. Baby Oliver, only three weeks old, lay in his gold-trimmed crib, his tiny face flushed and swollen from crying. His small body twisted against the pristine white sheets, as if he were fighting something unseen. She sat beside the bed, her hand on his chest, as the sun rose.

For the first time, Oliver slept without pain.