I turned the screen toward Wade and pressed play.

The video was shot from a high angle, looking down at our bedroom.

It came from the small nanny camera we had hidden in the bookshelf to monitor Leo’s crib.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the hallway light.

Emily lay in the bed, her breathing heavy and unnatural.

The door opened.

My mother walked into the frame, wearing her tailored wool coat.

Behind her stood Caleb, his hands jammed deep into his pockets, his shoulders hunched.

“She is completely out,” Caleb said on the recording.

“The sedative is working,” Margaret replied.

Her voice was perfectly calm, the same voice she used to organize charity galas.

She walked to the side of the bed and pulled a pre-filled syringe from her leather purse.

“Mother, we don’t have to do this,” Caleb said, his voice cracking. “We can just pay her off.”

“She knows about the trust administration,” Margaret said. “She was going to take the baby and leave Daniel. I will not allow her to dismantle this family.”

Margaret leaned over Emily.