For a moment, Michael stood frozen, his mind racing with a thousand possibilities, each more alarming than the last. He watched as Gloria continued her clandestine feeding, her manner both gentle and oddly insistent. Emily, in her innocence, squirmed and turned her head, clearly not wanting whatever was being offered. The jar’s label was obscured, but it was the secrecy of the act that set off alarm bells in Michael’s head.
Summoning his courage, Michael finally opened the door with deliberate firmness. Gloria looked up, startled, her eyes wide with surprise and then something else—a flash of guilt? Michael couldn’t be sure, but it was enough to make his heart thud harder in his chest.
“Mr. Whitmore!” Gloria gasped, hastily setting the jar aside, her hands going instinctively to smooth down her apron. “I—I didn’t know you were coming back today.”
