Nann: Shh, little one. You're safe now. Mommy—no, that woman can't hurt you.
David: Nann! Lock the door from the inside! I'm calling the police right now!
Vanessa: You're going to call the police on me?! In my own home?! David, you have lost your mind! She attacked me!
David: I saw the kettle, Vanessa! I saw the steam! You held boiling water over our newborn son's face while holding your phone up to record it!
Vanessa: It was an accident! I was trying to soothe him with warmth!
David: With a boiling kettle?! Are you insane?! Do you think I'm stupid?
Inside the locked study, Nann sat down behind David’s massive oak desk, her hands trembling uncontrollably. Baby Noah’s small chest rose and fell rapidly, his cries softening into weak whimpers. She checked his arms, his soft cheeks, his delicate fingers—thankfully, not a drop of the scalding water had touched him.
Nann: Thank God... thank God I was in the hall.
Vanessa: Open this door, David! I am his mother! You have no right to keep me away from my son!
David: You surrendered your rights the moment you put him in danger for a social media stunt!
Vanessa: It wasn't a stunt! I was setting up a content video for my followers! People want real, raw motherhood!
David: Raw motherhood?! You were staging a fake emergency to get views! You wanted him to scream so you could pretend you saved him!
Nann gasped softly, covering her mouth with one hand. The terrifying truth hit her like a physical blow. For weeks, Vanessa had been acting strangely around the baby—setting up ring lights, forcing the infant to stay awake, and staging dramatic breakdowns for her millions of online followers. But Nann never imagined she would go this far.
Vanessa: So what if I did?! Do you know how much money that video would have made us?! The sponsorship deals alone were worth fifty thousand dollars!
David: Money?! We have millions! I run a multi-million-dollar hedge fund! You don't need fifty thousand dollars!
Vanessa: It's my money! My brand! You don't get to control my life or my career!
David: The police are three minutes away, Vanessa. You better start figuring out what you're going to tell the officers.
Vanessa: You wouldn't dare arrest me. Think about the press, David! Think about your company's stock!
David: I don't care about the stock! I care about my son's life!
Outside the door, heavy silence suddenly fell over the living room. Nann leaned closer to the wood, listening intently. The quiet was more terrifying than the shouting. Then came the soft, distinct sound of heels clicking quickly toward the front entrance.
Nann: Mr. Miller! She's running!
David: Vanessa, stop right there!
Vanessa: Get your hands off me! Let me go!
David: You're not leaving until the officers get here!
A loud crash echoed through the foyer as a glass vase shattered against the floor. Nann held the baby tighter, rocking him back and forth as sirens began to wail in the distance, growing louder with every passing second.
Leave a Comment