Chapter 3 - The Guest Room Rule.
Amy woke at four seventeen in the morning to the sound of Lily fussing softly in the bassinet.
For several seconds, she forgot the dinner, the document, and the drive home.
There was only the baby.
She lifted Lily carefully and settled into the chair beside the window.
Connor was awake too.
He sat on the edge of the bed with his phone in his hand.
"You haven't slept," Amy said.
"Neither have you."
"I have a nine-day-old excuse."
A faint smile touched his face and disappeared.
"I've been going through messages."
Amy waited.
Connor turned the screen toward her.
There were dozens of texts between him and Margaret from the previous week.
Most looked harmless at first glance.
Amy needs quiet.
Amy asked me to handle visitors.
Amy doesn't want the nurse back yet.
Amy said her sister can wait until next week.
Amy is overwhelmed, so I'm taking care of the paperwork.
Connor scrolled slowly.
"Every one of these came from her."
Amy studied the messages.
"And you believed them."
The words were not angry.
That made Connor look even more ashamed.
"Yes."
Amy shifted Lily against her shoulder.
"I don't know what hurts more."
Connor looked down.
"Amy—"
"I'm not saying you did this."
She paused.
"But she knew you would believe her before you asked me."
Connor had no answer.
At seven thirty, he made coffee and called Nathan from the kitchen.
Amy sat nearby with Lily.
Connor put the call on speaker.
Nathan sounded cautious from the first word.
"I was hoping you'd call."
Connor set the document on the table.
"Did you witness Amy sign this?"
"No."
"Who gave it to you?"
There was a pause.
"Your mother forwarded a scanned copy."
Amy closed her eyes.
Connor continued.
"Did you speak to Amy about it?"
"I sent an email explaining the consequences."
Amy opened her eyes again.
"I never got it."
Nathan went quiet.
"Amy is there?"
"Yes," Connor said.
"I did not receive an email from you," Amy said.
Nathan's tone changed.
"I sent it to the address Margaret's office provided."
Connor leaned forward.
"Which address?"
Nathan read it aloud.
It looked almost correct.
Amy's actual address ended in 82.
The one Nathan had used ended in 28.
Connor stared at the table.
"That's not her email."
"Then we have a serious problem."
Nathan's voice had lost all professional softness.
"Do not sign anything else."
"We haven't signed anything," Connor said.
"And I am freezing the transfer until I understand what happened."
Nathan promised to send copies of every trust communication directly to both of them.
After the call ended, Amy stood and carried Lily toward the nursery.
Connor followed.
The nursery had been the one room Amy thought Margaret had not touched.
Pale walls.
A white crib.
A small wooden bookshelf Connor had assembled badly and proudly.
Then Amy stopped in the doorway.
"Where is the folder?"
Connor looked at the changing table.
"What folder?"
"The hospital folder."
It had contained Lily's birth documents, insurance forms, and several original identification papers.
Amy always kept it in the top drawer.
The drawer was empty.
Connor searched the second drawer.
Then the closet.
Then the basket beneath the changing table.
Nothing.
Amy felt her stomach tighten.
"Your mom was in here yesterday."
Connor looked at her.
"Why?"
"She said she was putting away blankets."
Connor pulled out his phone.
Their nursery camera stored motion clips for seven days.
He opened the app.
At first, there was nothing unusual.
Amy carrying Lily.
Connor changing a diaper with the concentration of a bomb technician.
Margaret folding towels.
Then they reached Tuesday afternoon.
Margaret entered the room alone.
She did not have towels.
She walked directly to the changing table.
Opened the top drawer.
Removed the hospital folder.
She took several papers out and photographed them with her phone.
Then she carried the folder out of the nursery.
Amy covered her mouth with her free hand.
Connor replayed the clip.
Margaret had not wandered into the drawer.
She had known exactly where to look.
"Why would she need Lily's documents?" Amy whispered.
Connor did not answer.
He was already calling his mother.
Margaret declined the call.
He called again.
Declined.
A text arrived instead.
I am at the office.
We can discuss this when everyone is calmer.
Connor typed a reply.
Return Lily's hospital folder today.
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
A full minute passed.
Margaret finally responded.
I don't have it.
Connor looked at the frozen image on his phone.
His mother was clearly holding the folder in both hands.
Amy stared at the message.
"She knows there's a camera."
Connor's eyes stayed on the screen.
"No."
He enlarged the video frame.
Margaret had looked once toward the crib camera.
Then she had continued searching.
"She knows there was a camera," Connor said.
"She thought it wasn't recording."
That afternoon, Nathan forwarded fourteen emails related to Lily's trust.
Amy had never seen any of them.
Three had replies supposedly from her.
The replies were polite.
Brief.
And absolutely not written by Amy.
The last one contained a sentence that made Connor stand up from his chair.
Margaret has my full permission to act for me in all matters concerning Lily until further notice.
Amy read it twice.
"That isn't me."
Connor nodded.
"I know."
At the bottom of the message was an automatic signature.
AMY BRADLEY.
Beneath it was a phone number.
Amy stared at the number.
It was not hers.
May you like
Connor recognized it.
It belonged to the guest room landline at his mother's house.
