Chapter 4

*Margaret's POV*

Margaret. What on earth are you doing to my daughter?"

Alexander’s voice made me freeze. I quickly moved back, my heart pounding as I looked up at him through my tears. He stood in the doorway in his dark suit, his eyes fixed on me with suspicion.

"I... I wasn't doing anything," I stuttered, my voice raspy and pathetic. I hated how weak I sounded, but the image of that crescent shaped birthmark on Jasmine's ankle was burned into the back of my eyelids.

"She was pulling my leg!" Jasmine shouted, immediately backing up toward the far corner of her room. She hugged her small arms around herself, glaring at me with a mix of anger and confusion. "She started crying and staring at me like a freak!"

Alexander took three slow, deliberate steps into the room. He didn't look angry in a screaming way, he looked far worse. His expression was a wall of solid ice, calculating every move I made, every breath I took.

"Get up," he ordered quietly.

I pressed my palms against the carpet and pushed myself to my feet. My knees felt like jelly. Six years of buried grief were clawing their way back up my throat, choking me. That birthmark. That exact crescent moon on her inner left ankle. I had stared at that same tiny mark on my newborn’s foot for two seconds in that sterile delivery room before Dr. Harrison rushed her away and told me she was dead.

Could two random children have the exact same rare mark in the exact same spot?

No. My gut screamed at me. She’s yours. She’s your baby.

"I'm waiting for an explanation, Margaret," Alexander said, standing right in front of me now. He towered over me, his shadow completely covering my trembling frame. "I hired you to take care of my child, not to traumatize her on your second day."

I swallowed hard, desperately searching through my brain for something to say that wouldn't make me sound completely insane. I couldn't just blurt out, ‘Hey, I think your late wife stole my baby six years ago.’ He would call security, throw me in jail, or put me in a mental institution before I could even finish the sentence. I had to play it smart. I had to stay in this house.

I took a deep, breath, forcing my hands to stop shaking as I wiped the tears from my cheeks.

"I apologize, Mr. Vance," I said, keeping my voice as steady as humanly possible. "When Jasmine bumped into the table, her leg twisted. I rushed to grab her so she wouldn't hit her head, and when I pulled her sock down, I saw... a mark."

Alexander raised a single dark eyebrow. "A birthmark?"

"Yes," I lied smoothly, letting a small, sad smile touch my lips to make it believable. "My little sister had the exact same mark. She passed away a long time ago. Seeing it so suddenly... it just brought back a lot of memories I wasn't expecting. I lost my composure. It won't happen again."

The room fell deadly silent.

Alexander stared down at me, his sharp eyes searching my face for any sign of a lie. I held my breath, keeping my shoulders square and refusing to look down. If he saw me break now, I was done.

After what felt like an eternity, the tension in his jaw relaxed just a fraction. He turned his gaze toward Jasmine, who was still watching us from the corner, her small mouth pressed in a tight line.

"Jasmine, did she hurt you?" he asked his daughter.

Jasmine looked at her dad, then looked at me. For a second, I thought she was going to lie just to get me fired like she had done to all the other nannies. My heart racing.

"No," Jasmine muttered, crossing her arms and looking away. "She was just being weird."

Alexander let out a low sigh, turning back to me. "Control your emotions while you are on duty, Margaret. This is a workplace, not a place for personal breakdowns. If you can't separate your past from your job, I will find someone who can."

"I understand," I replied, dipping my head. "It won't happen again."

"Good. The driver will take Jasmine to her music lesson in twenty minutes. Make sure she is ready." Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving the door wide open behind him.

The second his footsteps faded down the hallway, I pressed my back against the edge of the wooden desk, closing my eyes as I let out a long, shaky breath.

I looked over at Jasmine. She was sitting on her bed now, swinging her legs back and forth, pretending not to care that I was still in the room.

But I couldn't stop looking at her. Now that the initial shock was clearing, I started noticing things I had missed before.

The shape of her jawline. The slight wave in her brown hair. The subtle, stubborn way she tilted her chin when she was annoyed. It was the exact same habit Marcus had whenever he was stressed.

My chest ached with a pain so fierce it almost dropped me to my knees. My baby is alive. My baby is right here in front of me, But I still needed proof.

*

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The rest of the afternoon passed in a complete blur.

I accompanied Jasmine to her piano lesson, carried her bag, and handed her juice box without saying much. Every time I looked at her, a million questions crashed through my head. How did Dr. Harrison do it? Did Alexander know? Did his late wife fake a pregnancy? Who else was involved in stealing my child?

I knew birthmarks weren't legally enough to prove anything in court. If I went to the police right now with just a story and a birthmark, the wealthy, powerful Vance family would crush me like a bug. I needed real, concrete proof.

I needed a DNA test.

That night, after dinner was served and Alexander went back into his private office downstairs, I stayed up in the nanny quarters on the second floor. I waited until the entire mansion fell into a deep, heavy quiet.

By 11:30 PM, the lights in the main hallway were turned off, leaving only the dim wall lights.

I went out of my room in my socks, making zero noise as I tiptoed down the hallway toward Jasmine's bedroom. My palms were wet with sweat. If I got caught sneaking around at night, I’d be fired on the spot. But I couldn't wait. Every second I didn't know the absolute truth felt like torture.

I gently turned the handle of Jasmine's door and stepped inside.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the soft glow of a nightlight plugged into the wall. I could hear the faint, rhythmic sound of Jasmine sleeping softly in her bed.

I went over to her private bathroom, keeping my steps low. I pulled a small, clear plastic Ziplock bag out of my jacket pocket. On the bathroom counter sat a small pink hairbrush covered in brown, wavy strands of hair.

My hands shook as I picked up the brush, carefully pulling three long strands of hair with their roots intact and dropping them into the plastic bag.

Got it.

Relief rushed through me as I sealed the bag and shoved it deep into my pocket. Now all I needed was to get a sample of my own hair, take it to an independent clinic tomorrow morning, and pay for a rush paternity test.

I turned around, stepping quietly out of the bathroom and back into the dark bedroom.

I took one step toward the exit and froze.

Because standing right in the doorway of the dark bedroom, blocking my only way out, was a massive shadow.

The light from the hallway caught the sharp angle of a jawline and a pair of cold eyes staring straight at me in the dark.

"Looking for something, Margaret?" Alexander's deep, smooth voice echoed through the quiet room.