Chapter 2 - THE FIRST TIME HUDSON HELD HIS DAUGHTERS
Hudson Vale had negotiated billion-dollar acquisitions without blinking.
He had fired executives in rooms where grown men cried.
He had stood before cameras and explained why his company was worth more than some countries.
But he had no idea what to do with five sleeping babies.
Especially when they were his.
He remained frozen beneath the crystal chandelier.
Naomi Brooks was still asleep on the floor, one arm curved protectively around the smallest baby.
Hudson looked closer.
He knew their names.
Of course he knew them.
They were printed on the birth certificate.
Avery.
Bella.
Clara.
Daisy.
Evelyn.
Five daughters.
Five reasons the hospital had called him a miracle survivor.
Five reasons he had spent the past year avoiding his own home.
He had convinced himself that grief was something money could manage.
Hire people.
Build nurseries.
Pay doctors.
Create schedules.
Provide everything.
Then walk away.
That was how Hudson Vale survived.
But standing there now, watching Naomi sleep with all five babies breathing against her chest, he realized something that made his stomach tighten.
The girls weren't afraid.
They were peaceful.
They trusted her.
And he suddenly wondered when they had last been peaceful with him.
The answer came immediately.
Never.
A floorboard creaked.
Naomi's eyes opened.
She immediately looked down.
The moment she saw Hudson, terror crossed her face.
She carefully shifted the baby resting against her shoulder.
"Mr. Vale."
Her voice was barely audible.
Hudson's expression hardened.
"Why are they on the floor?"
Naomi swallowed.
"I—"
"Where is everyone?"
"They left."
"Everyone?"
"The night nurse quit at four this morning."
His jaw tightened.
"Why wasn't I told?"
"I called your office."
"I was in Tokyo."
"I know."
Hudson looked at the five babies.
"Then why didn't you put them in their cribs?"
Naomi's eyes dropped.
"Because they wouldn't stop crying."
"And?"
"And they had been crying for almost six hours."
Hudson stared at her.
"Six hours?"
Naomi nodded.
"One had a fever. Then another started vomiting. I couldn't leave them."
"You are not a nurse."
"No, sir."
"You're a maid."
Naomi flinched.
"I know."
The words should have satisfied him.
Instead, something about them made Hudson uncomfortable.
He looked at her exhausted face.
"When did you sleep?"
She hesitated.
"Yesterday."
"How long?"
Naomi didn't answer.
Hudson's voice became colder.
"How long?"
"Maybe forty minutes."
His expression changed.
"Forty minutes?"
"I was going to put them down and sleep after."
"But you didn't."
"No."
"Why?"
Naomi looked at the babies.
"Because they needed me."
Hudson opened his mouth.
Then stopped.
One of the babies stirred.
Avery.
Her tiny face wrinkled.
She made a soft sound.
Hudson instinctively stepped backward.
Naomi noticed.
"She wants to be held."
"I can see that."
"She's probably hungry."
"There's formula."
Naomi's expression became strange.
"She won't take formula."
"Why?"
"Because she recognizes the bottle your wife used."
Hudson went completely still.
"My wife?"
Naomi nodded.
"Mrs. Vale used to feed them herself."
Something broke inside him.
A memory surfaced.
Delilah sitting in the hospital bed.
Pale.
Exhausted.
Smiling.
"Hudson," she'd whispered, "they're going to need you."
He had looked away.
"I'll take care of everything."
"No."
She had reached for his hand.
"Not everything."
He had refused to understand.
Now Naomi was looking at him with the same sadness Delilah had carried in her eyes.
Hudson crouched.
He didn't know why.
Maybe because for the first time, one of his daughters had opened her eyes.
She stared directly at him.
Tiny.
Fragile.
Completely innocent.
Hudson felt his throat close.
Naomi whispered, "That's Clara."
He looked at her.
"How do you know?"
"I know all of them."
"How?"
"Avery cries when she's hungry."
"Bella rubs her left ear when she's tired."
"Clara likes being held upright."
"Daisy hates bright lights."
"And Evelyn..."
Naomi smiled faintly.
"Evelyn just wants someone close."
Hudson stared.
"You memorized all that?"
"I had to."
"No."
He looked at the sleeping babies.
"You wanted to."
Naomi didn't answer.
Hudson slowly extended his hands.
"Give me one."
Naomi blinked.
"What?"
"Give me one."
"Are you sure?"
His pride nearly made him retreat.
But then Clara opened her tiny mouth.
Hudson reached down.
Naomi carefully transferred the baby into his arms.
The moment he held her, Hudson stopped breathing.
She was impossibly small.
Her fingers wrapped around his thumb.
He stared at that tiny hand.
His eyes burned.
Naomi watched silently.
Hudson whispered, "She's so small."
"Yes."
"Was she always this small?"
"She was smaller."
He looked at Naomi.
"How did you manage five?"
"I didn't."
"What?"
"They managed me."
For the first time in months, Hudson almost smiled.
Then Clara made a tiny noise.
Hudson panicked.
"What does that mean?"
Naomi stood.
"It means she's hungry."
"What do I do?"
Naomi's expression softened.
"You feed her."
"I don't know how."
"I'll show you."
Hudson looked at the woman standing barefoot on his expensive marble floor.
His employee.
A maid.
The woman everyone in the mansion treated like furniture.
And suddenly he understood something.
Naomi wasn't beneath him.
She had been carrying everything he was too broken to carry himself.
Before he could say anything, footsteps sounded from the hallway.
His assistant, Richard Hale, appeared.
"Mr. Vale, I'm sorry. I thought you were—"
He stopped.
His eyes widened.
Hudson was holding Clara.
Richard stared as if he'd seen a ghost.
"Sir?"
Hudson looked at him.
"Get the car."
"Where are you going?"
"The hospital."
Richard's face tightened.
"Is something wrong?"
Hudson looked at Naomi.
Then at his daughter.
"Everything."
Two hours later, Foxbridge Manor was in chaos.
Doctors examined the babies.
The fever wasn't life-threatening.
But the pediatrician's expression was serious.
"These children have been under significant stress."
Hudson frowned.
"Stress?"
"Infants respond to neglect, inconsistent care, exhaustion, hunger, environmental instability."
Hudson looked away.
"They have professional staff."
The doctor didn't soften his answer.
"Staff aren't parents."
Silence.
Naomi stood near the door.
Hudson looked at her.
"She stays."
The doctor nodded.
"Good."
Then Hudson's phone rang.
Richard.
Hudson answered.
"Yes?"
"We have a problem."
"What?"
"The new head nanny arrived."
Hudson frowned.
"I didn't hire anyone."
"Your mother did."
Hudson's expression darkened.
"My mother has no authority over my household."
"Apparently she thinks she does."
"Who is she?"
Richard hesitated.
"Vivian Vale."
Hudson closed his eyes.
His mother.
The woman he hadn't spoken to in four months.
The woman who had blamed Delilah for "destroying" the family.
The woman who had demanded control over the babies after Delilah died.
And now she was coming back.
Hudson looked at Naomi.
For reasons he couldn't explain, he felt protective.
Then his phone rang again.
This time, Vivian herself.
"Son."
Hudson's voice turned cold.
"What do you want?"
"I heard you finally came home."
"Who told you?"
"People talk."
He said nothing.
Vivian continued.
"I've decided to take responsibility for the children."
"No."
A pause.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"You're incapable of raising them."
"I've been raising them."
"No," Vivian snapped. "That maid has."
Hudson's eyes moved toward Naomi.
"Be careful."
"What?"
"How you speak about her."
Vivian laughed.
"You've known her for what? A year?"
"Long enough."
"Son, she is staff."
Hudson's jaw clenched.
"She's the reason my daughters are alive."
Silence.
Then Vivian said quietly:
"We need to talk about Delilah."
Hudson froze.
"What about her?"
"I found something."
"What?"
"A letter."
Hudson's heart began pounding.
"From Delilah?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"In her old bedroom."
Vivian's voice lowered.
"And you should read it before you trust anyone in that house."
The call ended.
Hudson stood motionless.
Naomi watched him.
"What happened?"
Hudson looked at her.
For the first time, fear appeared in his eyes.
"My mother says she found a letter from my wife."
Naomi's face suddenly went pale.
Hudson noticed.
"You know something."
"No."
"Naomi."
She looked away.
"I don't."
But Hudson knew.
May you like
She was lying.
And he had no idea why.
