«Goddammit, what the hell do you think you’re doing? Filthy. Disgusting. That’s something you don’t touch. You serve it. You watch it. But you don’t ever hold it.» Nathaniel Blake’s voice cut like broken glass.
He stormed into the room and yanked the baby girl from Maya Williams’ arms with a force that made her breath catch.
«No, please, she just fell asleep. She wouldn’t stop crying,» Maya pleaded.
«I don’t care,» he barked. «You’re the maid, not the mother. Not anything. Nothing.»
The baby screamed the moment she left Maya’s chest, as if something had snapped. Her tiny hands clawed at the air, her sobs shrill and panicked.
«Shh, Lily, shh, it’s okay, sweetheart, I’m here,» Nathaniel whispered, but the child only cried harder, writhing in his arms, red-faced and gasping.
«Why won’t she stop?» he demanded. Maya stood frozen, her heart pounding.
«I tried everything,» she said quietly. «She only sleeps if I hold her. That’s all.»
He didn’t answer, just stood there as his daughter cried louder by the second.
«Give her back to me,» Maya said, her voice low and firm. His jaw tightened.
«I said give her back. She’s scared. You’re scaring her,» she repeated.
Nathaniel looked down at the child, then at Maya. His eyes were ice, but underneath, there was something else—confusion, hesitation, and then, defeat. He handed Lily back. The baby curled into Maya’s chest instantly, as if her body remembered safety.
The crying stopped in less than thirty seconds. Only a few hiccuping sobs remained as Lily drifted back into fragile sleep. Maya held her close, sitting back onto the rug, rocking gently, murmuring without thinking.
«I got you, little one. I got you,» she whispered. Nathaniel stood still, silent, watching. That night, no one spoke again, but the house felt colder. Hours later, Maya laid Lily down gently in her crib.
She didn’t sleep at all. By morning, Mrs. Delaney found her sitting in the corner of the nursery, eyes wide, hands still trembling.
«She only sleeps with her,» the older woman whispered under her breath, glancing toward the now-peaceful baby.
Nathaniel said nothing at breakfast. His tie was crooked, his coffee untouched. The second night, Maya tucked Lily in and stepped away. The baby screamed.
Mrs. Delaney rushed in. Nathaniel tried. Neither worked. Only when Maya returned, arms outstretched, whispering gently, did Lily quiet. The third night, Nathaniel waited outside the nursery door.
He didn’t enter. He listened. No crying, only a quiet lullaby, half-hummed.
He knocked. «Maya,» he called.
She opened the door. «Yes?»
«I need to speak with you,» Nathaniel said.
She stepped outside, closing the door gently behind her.
«I owe you an apology,» he said.
Silence.
«For what?» Maya asked, her voice not soft, not angry, just steady.
«For how I spoke to you. For what I said. It was cruel and wrong.»
She nodded. «Lily knows what’s real,» she said. «She doesn’t care about wealth or titles. She just needs warmth.»
«I know,» he said. «She won’t sleep unless she feels safe.»
«I know,» he repeated. «And I don’t think she’s the only one.»
Nathaniel looked down. «I’m sorry, Maya.»
A beat of silence.
«I’m not going to quit,» she said. «Not because of you, but because she needs me.»
«I hope you stay,» he said. «For her.»
«For her,» Maya repeated. But in her chest, something shook loose, something she thought had been locked away for good.
She didn’t trust him. But Lily did. And for now, that was enough.