As he stepped through the polished oak doors, Adrien expected to hear Clara’s laughter echoing from the sunroom. Instead, he heard a small, muffled cry. He froze. The sound came again—soft, fearful, and pained. Adrien followed it down the corridor until he reached the kitchen doorway.

What he saw rooted him to the floor. Seline stood over Clara, her face twisted with rage. “You clumsy little thing!” she hissed, lifting her foot and kicking one of Clara’s crutches away. The girl stumbled, her small body shaking as she tried to balance. “You spilled your juice again! Can’t you do anything right?”

“Please, I’m sorry,” Clara whimpered, her voice trembling.

Adrien’s vision blurred with disbelief. The woman he had trusted to care for his daughter was striking her—inside his own home. He heard the crack of Seline