Everyone thought the baby was just “difficult” because he cried at night—until the Black maid quietly lifted the corner of the mattress and froze.

Chapter 5: The Standoff

Naomi didn’t back down. She didn’t look at the floor. She stepped between Evelyn and the rocking chair where Theo lay.

“I found the marks, Mrs. Hartwell,” Naomi said. Her voice was steady, louder than she had ever spoken in this house. “I know what you’re doing.”

Evelyn blinked, trying to process the words through the haze of alcohol. She laughed, a brittle, ugly sound.

“You don’t know anything. You’re just the help. You’re nobody.”

“I found the flask,” Naomi said, pointing to the crib. “I found the journal. I see the bites on his back.”

Evelyn’s face twisted. The mask of the socialite dropped, revealing a snarl of pure rage.

“He’s mine!” she hissed. “He ruined everything! He screams and screams and Richard only cares about him! He doesn’t look at me anymore!”

She took a step forward, raising the heavy glass perfume bottle like a weapon.

“Get out of my way. I need to make him quiet.”

“You are not touching him,” Naomi said.

“I will fire you!” Evelyn screamed. “I will have you arrested! I will tell them you stole! Who will they believe? Me? Or you?”

It was the threat that always worked. The threat of power against poverty. The threat of white wealth against a Black woman’s word.

But Naomi looked at Theo. He was quiet now, watching them with wide, terrified eyes.

“They might not believe me,” Naomi said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone. “But they’ll believe the pictures I just sent to your husband.”

Evelyn froze. “What?”