“Here is your tea, little one,” Mrs. Higgins said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

She set the cup on the low wooden play table near the window.

Just as she reached down to pick Leo up, a loud buzz echoed from her pocket.

She pulled out her phone and frowned at the screen.

“I must take this,” she said, glancing at me. “Do not let him spill it.”

She stepped out into the hallway, closing the heavy oak door behind her.

This was my only chance.

I grabbed the silver cup from the table.

I ran to the small en-suite bathroom connected to the nursery.

I poured the warm, sweet-smelling tea down the drain.

I turned on the faucet, rinsing the cup three times to ensure no residue remained.

My hands shook as I grabbed a fresh chamomile tea bag from my own apron pocket.

I had brought my own organic tea bags from home.

I ran the hot water tap until it steamed, filling the cup, and dipped the tea bag inside.

I added a small spoonful of honey from the jar on the bathroom shelf.