Nanny lowered her collar for Husband, mocking my body. "Since your wife can't satisfy you, why not try me?"
I heard Kathryn's voice through the nursery door.
My hand froze on the doorknob.
The baby monitor app on my watch was still playing the clip from ten minutes ago.
Her stealing my grandmother's pearl necklace.
Clear as day on camera.
I tapped the record button on my watch, saving their words as evidence.
Then I pushed the door open, smiling.
"Anyone want cut fruit?"
Kathryn didn't even flinch.
Thomas sat on the edge of the changing table, tie loosened.
They thought I was deaf.
Thought I was stupid.
I set the fruit bowl down and walked out.
Heart pounding.
But my hands were steady.
That night, after Lily was asleep, I placed three tiny microphones in the living room, nursery, and kitchen.
All synced to a hidden cloud drive that Thomas knew nothing about.
Thomas often swept the house for bugs, but my microphones were too small to find.
Last month, Thomas asked me to help with his conference presentation.
Same PowerPoint template he always used.
I'd embedded a hidden photo in the master slide.
Just in case.
I also used that moment to install a stealth app on his phone, giving me access to his calls and surroundings.
Tonight, "just in case" arrived.
Dinner was filet mignon I'd spent two hours on.
Kathryn pushed her plate away.
"This is overcooked. Thomas deserves better."
Thomas nodded.
"Honey, you used to cook well. What happened?"
I wiped my mouth with the napkin.
"You're right. Thomas works so hard. He does deserve better. Actually, I invited a special guest for tonight."
They exchanged glances.
Confused.
Smug.
Midnight.
I sat in our daughter Lily's room.
She was two.
Curled up like a kitten.
Tears dripped off my chin onto the blanket.
I wiped them hard.
No more.
The next afternoon, I called the non-emergency police line and reported a theft, asking them to come around 8:45 PM.
The doorbell rang at 8:47 PM the next evening.
I'd timed it perfectly.
Kathryn was touching up her lipstick in the foyer mirror.
Two officers stood on the porch.
I handed over my phone, the recording ready.
"This is my nanny. She stole a pearl necklace. You'll find it in her purse."
They did.
Kathryn screamed.
"That bitch planted it!"
Neighbors stepped onto their lawns.
Thomas rushed out, tie undone, face gray.
Handcuffs clicked.
Kathryn was shoved into the cruiser.
I stood on the doorstep and watched the taillights disappear down the maple-lined street.
Thomas exploded in the hallway.
"Do you have any idea what you've done? My reputation! My standing!"
He grabbed my arm.
"I'm canceling your credit cards. Every single one."
I pulled free.
"Then I'll use my own salary."
Three in the morning.
I couldn't sleep.
So I went to his study.
Tax folders.
Bank statements.
Then I found it.
A wire transfer receipt.
Two hundred thousand dollars.
To some shell company called Bright Horizon Holdings.
My stomach dropped.
I photographed everything.
Next morning, Thomas posted bail.
Forty grand.
Kathryn walked back into my house arm-in-arm with him.
She smirked.
"Did you miss me, ma'am? Thomas couldn't stand me being gone."
I tossed a filthy dishrag at her chest.
"Pick up your police summons from the floor. Now tell me. How long do you think your career lasts with that on your record?"
She lunged.
I sidestepped.
Splashed cold tea down her new white dress.
"Assault me in my own home? Please. The police would love a second visit."
Thomas pushed between us.
"April! Apologize. Now."
I checked my watch.
"Honey. Isn't the hotel's biggest investor meeting today? You don't want to be late."
Two days passed.
I was grading papers at the kitchen island when my phone buzzed.
A text from Stephanie, my friend since we were sixteen, now the toughest family lawyer in Vancouver: "Call me. Now."
She was laughing.
"April. Whatever you did to his PowerPoint. The investors saw it. All of it."
Turns out, when Thomas opened his presentation in the boardroom, the first slide wasn't revenue projections.
It was him and Kathryn.
Kissing.
On his desk.
The hidden photo I'd buried in the master template two months ago.
The investors walked out.
His board demanded an explanation.
That night, I called Stephanie properly.
Told her everything.
The recording.
The transfer receipt.
The whole mess.
"The cameras in the living room and nursery are legal," she said. "Canada's one-party consent law. You're covered. I'll start digging first thing tomorrow."
I sent Kathryn's police record to every high-end nanny agency in the city.
Used my school email signature.
English Department Head.
Mother of two-year-old.
Former client.
By noon, four agencies had blacklisted her.
Thomas and Kathryn stormed into my study that evening.
"You did this!" Kathryn shrieked. "You ruined me!"
I pulled out the property deed from my locked drawer.
Held it up.
"See this? Sole ownership. My parents' trust. Not yours, Thomas. Never yours."
I pointed at the door.
"Both of you. Get out of my study. Now. Or sleep in the street."
They backed out.
Door slammed.
I collapsed into my chair.
My laptop pinged.
The hidden cloud monitor.
Auto-sync complete.
New audio file.
I pressed play.
Thomas's voice.
Low.
Strained.
"Don't worry, baby. Once I get access to her trust assets, I'll start adding something to her medication. Make her seem unstable. Psychotic. Then we take Lily. Easy."
The recording stopped.
I sat in the dark for a long time.
Then I forwarded it to Stephanie.
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