Michael sat on the edge of Ava’s bed, still cradling her in his arms. Each of her quiet sobs was a dagger to his heart. The room was now awash with light, but it seemed to do little to erase the shadows of fear that lingered in her eyes.
He took a deep breath, trying to contain the storm brewing inside him. He couldn’t afford to lose control—not now, not when Ava needed him to be her rock.
“Brenda,” he muttered under his breath, the name tasting of bile. Brenda was Ava’s nanny, hired after his wife passed away. She came highly recommended and had, until now, seemed like a godsend. But the facade had crumbled, revealing something vile lurking beneath.
