Chapter 4 — The Babysitter Who Quit at Midnight
Chapter 4 — The Babysitter Who Quit at Midnight
At 12:06 a.m., someone knocked on my door.
Three times.
Slowly.
I was already awake.
After the photograph of Lily sleeping in her own room appeared on my phone, sleep had become impossible.
I had moved Lily into the guest bedroom beside mine.
I had checked every window.
Every lock.
Every security camera.
Then I had checked them again.
Still, the photograph existed.
Someone had been inside my house.
Or someone had access to my cameras.
Neither possibility made me feel safe.
The knocking came again.
Three times.
I reached for the gun in the drawer beside my bed.
Then I heard a woman's voice.
“Mr. Bennett?”
I froze.
I knew that voice.
Not well.
But enough.
I opened the camera feed.
A woman stood outside.
Mid-thirties.
Dark coat.
Brown hair pulled into a messy ponytail.
She looked exhausted.
She held a canvas bag against her chest.
I opened the intercom.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Grace Miller.”
I waited.
“I used to babysit Lily.”
My hand tightened around the gun.
“Which Lily?”
She looked directly into the camera.
“Your daughter.”
I opened the door but kept the security chain attached.
Grace looked at me.
“You shouldn't have come here.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I saw the news.”
“What news?”
“Your wedding.”
My stomach tightened.
“You knew Victoria?”
Grace's eyes flickered.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She hired me.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
I stared at her.
“You worked for Victoria?”
“I worked for you.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
Grace swallowed.
“I thought I was working for you.”
That answer made my skin crawl.
“What does that mean?”
She looked toward the street.
“Can I come inside?”
I hesitated.
Then opened the door.
Grace stepped into the house.
She immediately looked toward the staircase.
“Is Lily here?”
“Yes.”
“Is she safe?”
“She is now.”
Grace closed her eyes.
“Thank God.”
I locked the door behind her.
“You have five minutes.”
She nodded.
“I understand.”
I pointed toward the kitchen.
“Sit.”
She did.
I remained standing.
“Start talking.”
Grace placed her bag on the table.
“I quit at midnight.”
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
“Why?”
She looked at me.
“Because I saw what they were doing to Lily.”
My blood ran cold.
“Who is they?”
Grace didn't answer.
“Victoria?”
“Yes.”
“Who else?”
She hesitated.
“Your father.”
I felt something inside me tighten.
“What did my father have to do with a babysitter?”
“Everything.”
Grace opened her bag.
She pulled out a notebook.
Old.
Black cover.
The corners were worn.
“I wrote everything down.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew nobody would believe me.”
She opened the first page.
A date.
Three years earlier.
Then another.
Another.
Another.
Every entry described something involving Lily.
I read the first.
June 14 — Victoria told Lily that her father would send her away if she continued refusing to call her Mom.
My jaw tightened.
Second entry.
June 21 — Lily found crying in the upstairs bathroom. She said Victoria had locked her outside again.
Third.
July 3 — Victoria asked me whether Lily had ever complained about headaches.
I looked up.
“Why?”
Grace shook her head.
“I didn't know.”
I turned the page.
July 17 — Victoria asked about Lily's blood type.
My stomach dropped.
“Did you tell her?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“She wasn't my employer.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Victoria paid me.”
She looked down.
“But you hired me.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“Your name was on my original employment contract.”
I felt a chill.
“I never hired you.”
“I know.”
Grace turned the page.
“There were instructions.”
“From whom?”
“An attorney.”
“Whose attorney?”
She looked at me.
“Your father's.”
I sat down.
For the first time, Grace looked frightened.
“You're telling me my father hired you to watch Lily?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't he tell me?”
“I don't know.”
“What were you supposed to watch?”
“Her behavior.”
“Anything else?”
“Her health.”
I stared.
“Why?”
Grace hesitated.
“Because she had episodes.”
“What episodes?”
“Memory lapses.”
My heart stopped.
“Explain.”
“Sometimes she would wake up and not remember where she was.”
“How often?”
“At first, once every few months.”
“And later?”
“Every few weeks.”
“Did you tell me?”
“I tried.”
“Who stopped you?”
“Victoria.”
My hands curled into fists.
“How?”
“She told me you were under enormous pressure.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
Grace looked at me.
“She threatened to have me arrested.”
“For what?”
“She said she had proof that I'd stolen from the house.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then why were you afraid?”
“Because she showed me photographs.”
“Of what?”
“Me entering your bedroom.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“She had photographs that made it look like I'd been stealing.”
I stared at her.
“She fabricated evidence?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To control me.”
I turned another page.
There were several entries about the white house.
September 4 — Victoria took Lily away for three hours. She said it was a doctor's appointment.
September 18 — Lily returned with a bruise on her arm.
October 2 — Lily asked me why the woman in the white room kept calling her 'Subject L.'
I stopped reading.
“Subject L.”
Grace nodded.
“She said that?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ask Victoria?”
“I did.”
“What did she say?”
“That Lily was playing pretend.”
I turned the page.
The next entry was underlined three times.
November 11 — Lily came home asleep. She had a fresh scar behind her ear.
I stared at it.
“The scar.”
Grace nodded.
“You knew about it?”
“I saw it happen.”
My heart pounded.
“What happened?”
Grace's eyes filled with tears.
“She came home from the white house.”
“When?”
“Late.”
“How late?”
“After midnight.”
“Who brought her?”
“Victoria.”
“Was Lily awake?”
“No.”
“Did you ask what happened?”
“Yes.”
“What did Victoria say?”
Grace whispered:
“She fell.”
I shook my head.
“She fell?”
“That's what she said.”
I stared at the notebook.
“You didn't believe her.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because the scar was too precise.”
“What do you mean?”
Grace reached behind her ear.
“Like a surgical incision.”
My blood went cold.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Grace looked at the floor.
“I tried.”
“When?”
“Three days later.”
“And?”
“Victoria intercepted the message.”
“What message?”
“I emailed you.”
“I never received it.”
“I know.”
“Who had access to my email?”
Grace looked at me.
“Your office administrator.”
I froze.
“Who?”
“Martin.”
My stomach dropped.
Martin had worked for me for eleven years.
He had been my father's recommendation.
I had trusted him.
“Is he still working for me?”
Grace nodded.
I stood.
“Marcus needs to know.”
My phone rang.
Marcus.
I answered.
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“Are you alone?”
“No.”
“Who is there?”
“Grace Miller.”
Silence.
Then:
“Don't let her leave.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“We found something.”
“What?”
“Her old employment records.”
I looked at Grace.
“What about them?”
“She wasn't just a babysitter.”
Grace closed her eyes.
Marcus continued.
“She was a nurse.”
I stared.
“What?”
“She worked at the Bennett Center.”
My stomach dropped.
“Before she became Lily's babysitter?”
“Yes.”
I looked at Grace.
She nodded slowly.
“I worked there for four years.”
“What did you do?”
“Pediatric research.”
My voice became cold.
“Did you work with Lily?”
Grace shook her head.
“Not initially.”
“But later?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I was transferred.”
“To what department?”
Grace whispered:
“Genetic observation.”
I couldn't speak.
Marcus was still on the phone.
“Daniel?”
“I'm here.”
“There's more.”
“What?”
“We ran Grace's name through the old facility records.”
“And?”
“She was listed as one of the witnesses in Anna Vale's death.”
Grace went pale.
I looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
She started crying.
“I didn't kill her.”
“I didn't accuse you.”
“But you should.”
“What?”
Grace looked at me.
“Because I know what happened.”
The room became silent.
Grace wiped her eyes.
“Anna discovered the truth.”
“What truth?”
“That Lily wasn't the only child.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who else?”
Grace shook her head.
“There were five.”
I stared at her.
“Five children?”
“Yes.”
“Where are they?”
“I don't know.”
“What happened to them?”
“Some were adopted.”
“By whom?”
“Families connected to the research center.”
“And the others?”
Grace's voice broke.
“They died.”
I felt sick.
“How?”
“Complications.”
“From what?”
“Procedures.”
I looked at the scar photograph on my phone.
“And Lily?”
Grace looked at me.
“She survived.”
“Why?”
“Because your father stopped them.”
I shook my head.
“You keep saying my father saved her.”
“He did.”
“Then why did he allow her to be taken?”
“He didn't know.”
“That's impossible.”
Grace shook her head.
“He knew the research existed.”
“But not that Lily was being tested?”
“Not at first.”
“When did he find out?”
“The night Lily disappeared.”
My heart stopped.
“Disappeared?”
Grace nodded.
“For twelve hours.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Six years ago.”
“The night Claire died?”
Grace's eyes widened.
“You know about Claire?”
“She is alive.”
Grace went completely still.
“She's alive?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
Grace looked terrified.
“Then you don't know.”
“Know what?”
She whispered:
“Claire didn't disappear voluntarily.”
I stepped closer.
“What happened?”
Grace looked toward the stairs.
Then lowered her voice.
“She was taken.”
“By who?”
“Your father.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
“He took Claire to save Lily.”
I couldn't breathe.
Grace continued.
“Your father discovered the research team had taken Lily to the white house.”
“Why?”
“Because they needed a blood sample.”
I shook my head.
“One sample?”
“No.”
“How many?”
Grace looked at me.
“Enough to keep Lily alive.”
My stomach turned.
“What does that mean?”
“They were preparing a procedure.”
“What procedure?”
“A bone marrow extraction.”
I felt sick.
“She was eight months old.”
Grace nodded.
“They were going to use her as a donor.”
“For whom?”
Grace hesitated.
Then whispered:
“For your mother's treatment.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“My mother died years before Lily was born.”
“That's what you were told.”
I stared.
Grace shook her head.
“Your mother was alive when Lily was born.”
I couldn't breathe.
“What?”
“She lived another eighteen months.”
“No.”
“I saw her.”
“Where?”
“At the white house.”
I stepped backward.
“That's impossible.”
Grace reached into her bag.
She pulled out another photograph.
I took it.
My mother.
Sitting in a hospital bed.
Older.
Sick.
But alive.
Beside her stood Claire.
And in Claire's arms was a baby.
Lily.
The date on the photograph was six months after Lily's birth.
My hands began shaking.
“Why did my father tell me she died?”
Grace looked at me.
“Because he was protecting you.”
“From what?”
“The truth.”
I couldn't stop staring at the photograph.
My mother was alive.
Claire was beside her.
Lily was a baby.
And someone had taken the picture inside the white house.
“What happened to my mother?”
Grace lowered her eyes.
“She died there.”
“How?”
“Her treatment failed.”
“And Lily?”
“Your father took her.”
“Why?”
“To stop the researchers.”
I looked at Grace.
“Then why did he keep this secret?”
“Because the people behind the research had power.”
“What kind?”
“Enough to destroy your family.”
I shook my head.
“My family already had money.”
“This wasn't about money.”
“What was it about?”
Grace looked at me.
“Your family wasn't funding the research.”
My blood turned cold.
“They were conducting it.”
At that moment, footsteps sounded upstairs.
I froze.
Lily.
I ran.
Her bedroom door was open.
The window was open too.
The curtains moved in the cold air.
“Lily!”
No answer.
My heart stopped.
I searched the room.
Bathroom.
Closet.
Hallway.
Nothing.
“Lily!”
Then I heard her voice.
From downstairs.
“Daddy?”
I ran.
She was standing beside Grace.
Holding something.
A small silver key.
“Where did you get that?”
She looked at me.
“Victoria gave it to me.”
My stomach dropped.
“When?”
“Before the wedding.”
“Why?”
Lily looked confused.
“She said I would need it when I remembered.”
I took the key.
There was a number engraved on it.
317.
Grace saw it.
Her face went white.
“No.”
“What?”
“That isn't a key.”
I stared at her.
“Then what is it?”
She whispered:
“It's an access token.”
“For what?”
“The basement.”
“Which basement?”
Grace looked at Lily.
Then at me.
“The white house.”
My phone rang.
My father's number.
I answered.
“Dad?”
His voice was barely audible.
“Daniel.”
“Where are you?”
“Don't go to the white house.”
I looked at the silver token.
“Why?”
Silence.
Then:
“Because your mother isn't the only person buried there.”
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Grace began crying.
“What?”
She whispered:
“Now you know why I quit.”
“Why?”
She looked at the clock.
“Because I stayed until midnight.”
“What happened at midnight?”
Grace looked at Lily.
Then at me.
“At midnight, every child in that facility was transferred.”
“Transferred where?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“Grace.”
“I only know what I saw.”
“What?”
She whispered:
“Lily wasn't transferred.”
My heart stopped.
“Then what happened to her?”
Grace looked at my daughter.
“She was returned to you.”
“Why?”
“Because someone had changed the orders.”
“Who?”
Grace's eyes filled with tears.
“Your father.”
I stared at her.
Then she said the words that changed everything.
“He didn't save Lily because she was his granddaughter.”
“He saved her because he knew what she was capable of becoming.”
I looked at Lily.
She was holding the silver token.
“What's she capable of?”
Grace didn't answer.
The lights suddenly went out.
Lily screamed.
I grabbed her.
From somewhere downstairs came the sound of breaking glass.
Then footsteps.
Someone was inside the house.
Grace whispered:
“They found us.”
I held Lily behind me.
Marcus wasn't here.
The police were minutes away.
The footsteps came closer.
Then a man's voice echoed through the darkness.
“Daniel.”
I knew that voice.
My father.
But when the lights came back on, he wasn't standing in the hallway.
A stranger was.
He held a photograph in one hand.
And a gun in the other.
He looked at Lily.
Then at me.
“Your father told you to stay away from the white house.”
I stepped in front of my daughter.
“Who are you?”
The man smiled.
“The person who knows why Lily was allowed to survive.”
He held up the photograph.
It showed five children.
Four were crossed out.
Only Lily remained.
Then he whispered:
“Your daughter wasn't the fifth child.”
He looked directly at me.
May you like
“She was the first.”
And behind him, the front door slowly locked itself.
