The sound echoed through the floorboards, a dull vibration under my feet.

I moved to the next crib, checking Maya.

Her eyes fluttered, but she remained asleep.

I heard the front door open downstairs.

A rush of cold wind must have entered, because the draft rattled the nursery window slightly.

“Mr. Whitmore,” a woman’s voice called out from the foyer.

“We are from the Illinois Department of Children and Family Services.”

“We have a warrant for an emergency welfare check on the premises.”

I held my breath, listening through the crack of the nursery door.

“At two in the morning?” Ethan’s voice was low, freezing in its tone.

“The report we received was highly specific, sir,” a man’s voice responded.

“It alleged severe neglect and an unstable environment following the death of your wife.”

“It also indicated you might be planning to leave the jurisdiction with the children.”

I felt a chill run down my spine.

Daniel was thorough.

He had timed this perfectly to catch Ethan at his most vulnerable hour.

“You will speak to my legal counsel,” Ethan said.

“He is already on the speakerphone.”