The next morning, Ethan stood outside the nursery and watched through the doorway.
The twins were awake. One was crying. The other kicked restlessly in his crib.
The nurse hovered, flustered.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” she said. “They’ve been fussy since dawn.”
Ethan said nothing.
He remembered the peaceful scene from the night before. The way the twins had slept against Lena’s chest.
“Bring the cleaning lady,” he said suddenly.
The nurse blinked. “Sir?”
“Lena. Bring her.”
Minutes later, Lena stood awkwardly in the doorway, hands folded, eyes downcast.
Ethan nodded toward the cribs. “Pick them up.”
Her eyes widened. “Sir?”
“Please.”
She hesitated only a second before moving forward. She lifted one twin, then the other, settling them against her with practiced ease.
Within moments, the crying faded.
The room grew quiet.
The nurse stared, stunned.
Ethan felt something crack inside him.
“Why them?” he asked quietly.
Lena looked at the babies. “They need to feel someone,” she said simply. “Not just hear them.”
He swallowed hard.
That afternoon, Ethan checked the security logs.
The nurse had left early the night before.
No one had told him.
