Chapter 3 - The Secret in the Silver Tray
I didn't sleep that night. I sat behind my desk in the study, pretending to review financial ledgers when the sun broke over the Nashville hills.
At 7:00 AM sharp, Helen knocked softly on the study door.
"Enter," I said, keeping my voice utterly level.
She stepped inside, impeccably dressed in her tailored gray wool dress, her silver-streaked hair tied in an elegant chignon. Her face was the picture of devoted professionalism—the exact face that had comforted me at Emily's funeral.
"Good morning, Mr. Ward," she said, setting a fresh cup of black coffee on my desk. "The girls had a peaceful night. Rosie ate a full breakfast of poached eggs and fruit fifteen minutes ago. Cami had a little trouble finishing, but I managed to get half a glass of whole milk into her."
I looked down at the coffee, then up into her pale blue eyes.
"Is that so?" I asked smoothly. "Did you take a photo for the dietary log?"
"Of course," she replied without missing a beat, handing me a small digital tablet.
There it was. Two colorful plates on the nursery table, steam visibly rising from the eggs, small silver forks resting beside the napkins. The timestamp was 6:45 AM.
I knew with complete certainty that Rosie and Cami were still locked in their bedroom, their bellies empty except for the bread and boiled chicken the stranger had passed through the bars hours earlier.
"You take exceptional care of them, Helen," I said, forcing a faint, exhausted smile. "Since Emily passed, I don't know what I would have done without you."
A subtle gleam of triumph entered Helen's eyes. "Emily was a dear friend to us all, sir. I promised her I would look after the girls as if they were my own blood. You have enough burdens running the Ward Enterprise empire. Leave the domestic affairs to me."
"I intend to," I said. "In fact, I'm thinking of restructuring the family trust next month. I want to ensure that whoever oversees the girls' daily upbringing has total financial autonomy over their care fund."
Helen’s pupils dilated slightly. That was what she was after.
Emily’s estate had left behind an untouchable twenty-million-dollar trust for Rosie and Cami, accessible only if the primary guardian was deemed incapacitated or if full custodial guardianship was legally transferred due to paternal neglect.
"That is very wise, Mr. Ward," Helen murmured. "Children need absolute stability."
"Thank you, Helen. You may go."
As soon as she closed the door, I pulled out my secure phone. Calvin's number flashed.
"Nathan," Calvin said, his tone dead serious. "We identified the woman from the woods."
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"Who is she?"
"Her name is Sarah Vance," Calvin replied. "And you need to sit down for this. She's not a stranger. She was Emily's private hospice nurse during her final month of life. And six months ago... Helen Dawson had her blacklisted from every hospital in the state of Tennessee."
