The Trouble I Brought Home

The next morning…

When I first got together with Estelle, I was just a department manager. I pushed myself nonstop, climbing all the way to a director role so I could give her a better life.

Now that we had Belle, slowing down wasn't even an option.

I was halfway to the office when I realized I had forgotten some documents. I turned the car around immediately.

As the elevator reached a few floors below our place, I suddenly heard Belle crying, sharp and desperate. This time, it only got louder and more frantic.

My chest tightened as a bad feeling hit me. I pulled out my phone to call Estelle, only to notice a message she had sent 15 minutes earlier.

[Honey, I booked a postpartum recovery session this morning, so I went to the clinic early to get in line. Let's have lunch together later!]

Something felt wrong.

The moment the elevator doors opened, I ran straight for the apartment.

That damn Lillian! If Estelle wasn't home, she might've just let Belle cry and not bothered to check on her.

My hands were shaking so badly that I had to enter the door code three times before it unlocked. The second I stepped inside, Belle's crying stopped.

Lillian was standing there, holding Belle in one arm while feeding her with a bottle in the other. On the edge of the table nearby sat an open bottle of medicine, with a small pile of crushed powder spilled beside it.

A chill ran down my spine.

Was this how she kept the baby quiet? By feeding her sleeping pills?

Belle was barely a month old!

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

I kicked the table aside and snatched Belle out of her arms.

The sudden movement made Belle spit up the milk in her mouth, and she burst into loud cries again.

Somehow, that sound steadied me.

I clumsily rocked her until she calmed down, then turned on Lillian, fury boiling over.

"How could you do such a thing? I'm reporting you! How much of that stuff have you been feeding my daughter these past few days?! She's only a month old! That's not negligence, that's attempted murder! I'm calling the police!"

Lillian didn't look the least bit panicked. She picked up the bottle from the table, walked to the bathroom, and dumped everything into the toilet before flushing it away.

"Where's your proof? You're just making blind accusations. If anything, I should call the police on you for slander!"

So she had done this before.

My phone started buzzing again. The company was urging me back. A major client was waiting. If I lost this deal, I might not just lose my position; I could lose my job entirely.

But there was no way I could leave Belle with that woman again.

I called Estelle right away.

"Estelle, Lillian's been giving Belle sleeping pills. I'm done putting up with this. I'm calling the police! You need to come back and watch Belle."

On the other end, Estelle gasped sharply, her breathing uneven.

"Can you just watch her for a bit? I'm only halfway through my session. It costs a few hundred dollars each time. I can't just waste it."

Another message popped up on my phone, urging me to hurry.

I gripped the phone tighter, my voice rising. "I have a meeting I can't miss. You need to come back now. Lillian's been feeding Belle sleeping pills!"

Estelle's tone suddenly turned sharp, edged with anger I didn't understand.

"Vincent, are you done yet? Those pills are for Lillian herself. She's the baby's… Why would she give sleeping pills to a child?

"Ever since she came here, you've had a problem with everything she does. I've tried to talk to you so many times, and you never listen.

"As long as she takes care of the baby, what does it matter if she rests or eats a little? It's not like we're struggling. I really don't get why you keep acting like this.

"If you don't want to spend money on a nanny for us, then just say it!"

The line went dead.

When I tried calling again, her phone was already off. She didn't give me a chance to say another word.

I stood there, phone in hand, a cold weight settling in my chest.

I should have installed cameras at home.

Now, I had no way to prove anything, even if I was telling the truth.