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Dr. Smith’s heels snapped softly against the floor until she came to a sudden halt—right in front of the Bellamys’ door.

She quickly stepped back, eyes darting left and right, as if the walls themselves might have seen her hesitation.

Her composure cracked for only a heartbeat before she spun on her heel and marched away, tray balanced tightly against her chest.

Inside her quarters, she shoved the tray onto the counter with more force than she intended, the bottles chiming against each other.

Sliding the mask of professionalism back into place, she stepped out again and caught sight of a maid dusting near the stairwell.

“You,” Dr. Smith called smoothly, as though nothing was amiss. “Where is the little master? I need to update his notes and run a quick check.”

The maid blinked, lowering her duster. “Master Noah? He’s with Mrs. Bellamy, ma’am. In the sitting room.”

Dr. Smith’s lips curved into a faint smile, though her knuckles were still white against her clipboard. “Perfect. Let her know I’ll be there shortly.”

And with that, she walked on.

The door was slightly ajar, and she eased it open just enough to peer inside.

Noah sat cross-legged on the rug, crayons scattered like candy around him. His coloring book lay wide open, filled with messy but vibrant strokes of red, blue, and green.

“That’s Mommy,” he chirped, stabbing the crayon against a stick-figure with a crown of curly hair. He grinned wide, then jabbed at another tall figure in black. “That’s Daddy!”

He clapped his hands and pointed at a smaller one he’d scribbled beside them. “Yay, that’s me!”

Then, with a thoughtful frown, he pressed his little hands against his lips. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he added softly, almost like sharing a secret with the paper, “Maybe… a little sister soon? All my friends in school have one…”

His innocent laughter bubbled up, filling the quiet room with warmth.

Dr. Smith’s eyes narrowed in the doorway. Perfect. He was alone.

The door creaked wider, and Dr. Smith stepped in, her heels muted against the carpet.

In her hand was a small packet of brightly wrapped candies, their colors catching the light.

“Noah,” she cooed, her smile fixed but not quite reaching her eyes. “Look what I brought you…” She shook the packet gently, the wrappers rustling like tiny bells.

Noah’s crayon slipped from his fingers. His little shoulders stiffened as his wide eyes darted to her.

He shuffled backward on the rug, clutching the coloring book to his chest. “I… I don’t want candy,” he mumbled, voice tight, a nervous tremor betraying him.

Dr. Smith crouched slowly to his level, her smile stretching wider. She lowered her voice to a silken whisper, leaning just close enough for her words to brush the air by his ear.

“Don’t be scared, kid,” she murmured, tilting the candy bag. “I brought you something sweet. Just for you.”

Noah shook his head, eyes wet, hugging his book tighter.

Her gaze sharpened, though her tone stayed honey-soft, the way poison might be disguised in sugar. “Listen carefully. Someone out there… wants to hurt Mommy and Daddy. If anyone asks you questions, you mustn’t answer them.” Her whisper dropped lower, almost conspiratorial. “He wants Mommy and Daddy killed?”

Noah’s little lips trembled, his frightened eyes locked on her, caught between confusion and terror.

She slipped a candy onto the open page of his book.

Dr. Smith leaned closer. Her voice was soft as velvet.

“Noah,” she breathed, brushing his hair . “If you don’t want Mommy and Daddy to die, you have to be very careful. Do you understand?”

His chin wobbled, tiny hands clutching his coloring book so tight the paper bent.

“You mustn’t answer questions from strangers. Not the police. Not anyone,” she whispered, her smile curling unnaturally sweet. “Because if you do… then the bad man will find out. And Mommy and Daddy will be gone forever.”

Noah’s lower lip trembled. He whimpered, pressing both hands over his ears, tears pooling in his eyes. “N-no… I don’t want—”

Dr. Smith tilted her head, feigning pity, and gently pried his hands down, her face inches from his. “Then remember my words, little one. Not a sound. Not a word. Or else…”

The door creaked again.

Dr. Smith froze, her smile faltering.

There in the doorway stood Mrs. Bellamy, a porcelain dish of rice pudding balanced in her hands.

She had only meant to surprise Noah with a treat, but the sight before her rooted her to the floor.

Dr. Smith’s head whipped toward the door, that unflinching smile snapping back into place like a mask.

Her voice brightened unnaturally, pitched higher, as if she’d been caught in the middle of a game.

“And then,” she said smoothly, patting Noah’s coloring book, “the unicorn spread its wings and flew right over the rainbow! Isn’t that magical, Noah?”

Noah sat frozen, eyes glassy, his little chest rising and falling too fast. He didn’t answer.

Mrs. Bellamy stepped into the room, the scent of warm rice pudding drifting with her.

Her brows twitched, knitting together as she watched the odd tableau—the doctor crouched too close, the child’s wide eyes, the forced cheer in Dr. Smith’s tone.

“What’s going on here?” Mrs. Bellamy asked evenly, though her voice carried a cool weight.

Dr. Smith rose smoothly to her feet, brushing invisible lint from her coat. “Just a little storytime,” she said lightly, her composure flawless. “Noah was telling me about his drawings, so I thought I’d add a unicorn or two.”

Mrs. Bellamy’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, flashing between the frightened boy and the doctor’s perfect smile.

She set the pudding carefully on the table, each movement deliberate, before stepping closer to Noah.

“Unicorns, hmm?” she murmured, but her gaze never left Dr. Smith’s face.

Dr. Smith’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes sharpened like glass under light. She smoothed her coat, nodding politely.

“I’ll take my leave now,” she said, voice airy. As she turned, she angled one last glance at Noah—her gaze hard, and frightening in its silence.

Noah’s little body stiffened, his tiny hands gripping the edge of his coloring book until the pages crumpled.

Mrs. Bellamy noticed the flicker of fear, her eyes narrowing slightly as she crouched down beside him, placing the warm rice pudding within reach.

Her tone was soft, almost sing-song, but her gaze lingered protectively on his face.

“Here’s your favorite, son,” she said, brushing a curl from his forehead. “I hope nothing is bothering my little king?”

Noah forced a laugh, trying to make it sound real. “No, Granny,” he said quickly, spooning pudding into his mouth.

Then his eyes twinkled with sudden mischief as if to cover up the tremble still hiding in his chest. “I just want you to tell Mom and Dad…”

But the thought snagged in his head. No… I don’t want Mommy and Daddy to die. The whisper of Dr. Smith’s warning clawed at him.

So he changed the words midstream, giggling instead. “I want you to tell Mommy and Daddy to get me a sister! All my friends in school have one.”

Mrs. Bellamy let out a surprised laugh, cupping his cheek. “Oh, my sweet boy.” She kissed his temple, her eyes softening. “That’s the kind of trouble I don’t mind passing along.”