The eighteenth nanny fled Dominic Vale’s mansion with blood running down her forehead, screaming that his four-year-old son was “not right.” A few hours later, that same little boy smashed a bronze statue into my ribs while one of Chicago’s most feared mafia bosses watched from the staircase—but when I looked into Noah’s eyes, I didn’t see a violent child. I saw terror.

The next afternoon, Dr. Julian made his official appearance in Noah’s nursery.

I stood by the window, folding Noah’s clothes, keeping my face completely blank as the doctor unpacked his silver case.

“Ah, Miss Reed,” Dr. Julian said smoothly, offering a practiced, warm smile. “I hear you’ve had a remarkable calming effect on our little young master.”

“I just leave him alone, Doctor,” I said simply, keeping my voice low and submissive. “Kids like space.”

“Indeed,” Julian murmured. He pulled a small glass vial filled with a dark purple liquid from his case, along with a plastic syringe. “Noah suffers from a severe, atypical pediatric psychosis brought on by the trauma of his mother's passing. This is his daily neurological stabilizer.”

Noah backed into the corner of his play area, his eyes wide with horror, his hands clawing at the wall behind him.

“No!” Noah screamed, his voice cracking. “No juice! No bitter juice!”

“Now, now, Noah, be a good boy for Dr. Julian,” the doctor said, advancing on the terrified four-year-old with the syringe held upright.

I stepped smoothly between Dr. Julian and the boy.

“Doctor,” I said, holding out my hand. “Let me give it to him. He’s terrified of needles and high-pressure syringes. If I put it in a cup, he’ll take it easier.”

Julian paused, his eyes narrowing as he evaluated me. “It must be consumed immediately, Miss Reed. It loses its efficacy if left exposed to air.”

“Of course,” I said, taking the small plastic cup he poured the liquid into.

I turned my back to Julian, pretending to comfort Noah. Using the broad sleeve of my oversized sweater, I absorbed the purple liquid into a thick wad of cotton balls hidden in my pocket, replacing it instantly with a splash of dark grape juice from the cup sitting on the nightstand.

I handed the cup to Noah. “Drink your juice, sweetie.”