Chapter 3 - The Sister’s Venom
By 3:20 a.m., the main house of the Shaw estate was wrapped in dead silence.
The heavy wrought-iron gates at the end of the two-mile driveway were locked down with manual steel deadbolts. Outside the nursery door, two six-foot-four security guards dressed in unmarked tactical suits stood like stone guardians, their eyes scanning the hallway.
Inside the nursery, Emma sat on the edge of the large canopy bed. Grace and June had finally stopped crying. For the first time in nearly two months, their small faces were relaxed in sleep, their breathing steady and deep, their hands held tightly in Emma’s lap.
Declan stood by the window, his back to the room, staring out at the rain pouring over the Hamptons landscape. He had removed his jacket, his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing the heavy ink of tribal tattoos tracing up his forearms—scars from a life spent in the shadows.
“You’re not a regular maid, Emma,” Declan said without turning around.
Emma gently stroked June’s hair. “My father was an acoustic engineer for the Navy, Mr. Shaw. Before he died, he taught me how frequency interference works. When I saw the red light behind the button eye, I knew it wasn't a standard battery indicator.”
Declan turned around slowly. He looked at the young woman sitting beside his daughters.
When he had hired Emma Reed three weeks ago, her resume had appeared completely unremarkable—a quiet, hardworking girl from upstate New York who kept her head down and did her work without asking questions. He had assumed she was just another face in his vast domestic staff.
He had been wrong. She was the only person in a house filled with doctors, guards, and high-priced specialists who had actually listened to his daughters.
“My sister, Meredith, brought that bear here six days after my wife, Clara, died in the hospital,” Declan said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, dark cadence. “She told me it would comfort them. She told me it was a gift from an old family friend in Europe.”
“Why would your sister want to hurt six-year-old children?” Emma asked softly.
“She didn't care about the children,” Declan replied, stepping toward the bed. “She wanted me broken.”
He reached out and gently smoothed the blanket over Grace’s shoulders, his big, rough hand moving with unexpected tenderness.
“The Shaw Family Trust controls eighty percent of the Chicago shipping terminals,” Declan explained. “Under my father’s will, if I am declared mentally incapacitated or deemed unfit to retain custody of my heirs, total voting control of the terminals reverts to Meredith and her husband.”
Emma felt a cold shiver run down her spine. “She was driving you to a breakdown.”
“For two months, I haven't slept more than two hours a night,” Declan said grimly. “I was firing specialists, raging at my commanders, spending millions of dollars trying to fix a problem that didn't exist. My board of directors was already discussing an emergency vote of confidence for next week.”
He walked toward the nursery door, stopping with his hand on the heavy brass handle. He looked back at Emma.
“Stay with them,” Declan ordered gently. “Don't let anyone into this room except Vance.”
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“Where are you going, Mr. Shaw?”
Declan’s eyes flashed with a cold, terrifying light. “I’m going to go have a talk with my sister.”
