She squeezed three drops of a thick, colorless liquid into Leo’s silver sippy cup.

Then she stirred it quickly with a spoon.

My chest went tight.

I recognized the shape of that bottle.

My mother had been prescribed a powerful sedative last year, and the warning label had the exact same medical seal on the cap.

In a child as small as Leo, that dosage would cause severe neurological confusion, lethargy, and extreme mood swings.

She wasn’t soothing him.

She was drugging him.

I took a step back, my heel clicking faintly against the tile.

Inside the pantry, Mrs. Higgins froze.

She began to turn her head slowly toward the door.

I pressed my back against the cold corridor wall.

I held my breath, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Inside the pantry, the rustle of fabric stopped.

“Who is out there?” Mrs. Higgins called out.

Her voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet of the penthouse.

I took a slow, deliberate breath to steady my shaking hands.

I stepped back into the doorway, putting a polite, tired smile on my face.