In my last life, my niece was kidnapped at her christening by our nanny, Stephanie Lawrence, working together with a hotel janitor named Anthony Chavez. They used every trick they could to keep demanding ransom.
And even after they got the money, they never let my niece go.
My sister was blamed by her husband's family for it, for not being able to keep watch over her own child, and a few months later, crushed by the pressure, she slit her wrists at home and died.
I was driving her husband to hand over the ransom when we had an accident on the way. A car hit us, and I died.
Then I was reborn, back at the christening. Friends and family kept arriving one after another, because my niece was the only daughter and heiress of the Dickerson Group, and plenty of people had come to offer their congratulations.
The nanny, Stephanie, suddenly walked over, reaching to lift the baby out of my sister's arms. I stopped her at once. "What do you think you're doing?"
Stephanie stared at me. "It's time for the little miss to have her formula. I'm taking her to feed her."
"No. If she's being fed, it happens right here in front of me. Nobody takes her anywhere."
My eyes fixed on Stephanie, and I swore to myself that in this life I would never let the tragedy repeat.
This time, I was going to make Stephanie and her partner pay the price they had coming.
...
Something flickered in Stephanie's eyes. "I'm only taking her to feed her. I'll bring her right back."
"And who knows where you'd actually take her? What if you didn't bring her back at all?"
In my last life, that was exactly the excuse Stephanie used — taking the baby off to be fed — before she kidnapped her.
At my words, Stephanie's face crumpled as if she'd been wronged. "I don't mean any harm. I've worked for the Dickerson family for years now. Where would I take the little miss?"
"I don't care. If she's being fed, it's in front of me and my sister."
"There are too many people here, it's too noisy. The little miss won't settle to feed in a crowd like this." Stephanie kept reaching for another excuse.
As she spoke, she stepped forward again to take the baby.
I kept blocking her.
"If the little miss goes hungry, will you take responsibility for that?" Stephanie called out at me.
"Yes. I will."
Then Stephanie suddenly said, "Mr. Heath, I know that back at the house you held a grudge against me because I wouldn't let you take one of Mr. Dickerson's watches. Now you're going after me on purpose, aren't you?"
She was throwing dirt at me.
The moment the words landed, they drew a good number of onlookers closer.
"That was something belonging to Mr. Dickerson. Without his permission, I couldn't let it be taken away." A hurt, wronged look spread over Stephanie's face.
And just like that, she had everyone's sympathy.
"Mr. Heath, come on. All this over such a small thing, going after a servant? That's awfully petty."
"Nanny Lawrence was just doing her job for the family!"
Hearing that almost made me laugh out of sheer anger. I was the heir of the Heath Group. Did I need that watch?
The excuse Stephanie had grabbed for was laughably cheap.
At that point, my sister finally spoke up. "All right, Curt, that's enough. Your niece is hungry. Let Nanny Lawrence take her down to be fed."
Hearing that, Stephanie lifted a hand to wipe her eyes and came forward again to take the baby.
"Sis, don't let her touch Emily. If she's being fed, it happens right here. I don't trust her."
My expression was dead serious. I knew exactly what kind of person Stephanie was.
"Sis, this isn't something to joke about. There are too many people here, too many eyes. What if we lost Emily?"
In my last life, the image of my sister bleeding out from her slit wrists flashed through my mind.
And I swore to myself, silently, that I would never let a tragedy like that play out again.
