A Who Done It

Chapter Description: Izabella shows Katy her maternal side

The cry echoed again, thin and desperate, and Katy’s skin prickled. She hovered in the doorway, frozen by the sight of the tiny, naked infant wriggling on the carpet. His limbs flailed helplessly, fists clenching and unclenching as his glowing brown eyes caught the lamplight.

Her mouth went dry. It can’t be…

A voice behind her made her jump.

“What is going on?”

Katy spun, her heart hammering. Izabella stood in the hallway, her hand braced against the frame. She looked calmer than Katy expected not shocked to see her there, but drawn by the sound of the cries. Her eyes widened as she glanced past Katy into the room.

“Oh, mon dieu…” Izabella whispered, stepping inside. “Not again.”

Katy moved aside as the maid swept forward, skirts whispering against the floor. Without hesitation, Izabella bent low and scooped the tiny baby into her arms. He let out a pitiful wail, but the moment she pressed him against her big breasts, the cries softened into hiccuping sobs. Izabella's ample bosom provided a comforting cushion, her gentle rocking motion and the warmth of her body soothing the baby. The wails subsided, replaced by the soft, rhythmic sound of hiccups, as he nestled against her, his tiny fists unclenching

“Who is this?” she asked, looking down at the baby with a tilted head.

“Mark,” Katy said softly. “I… I believe it’s Mark.”

Izabella’s lips parted in a sympathetic sigh. “Awww, the poor thing,” she cooed, stroking the boy’s downy hair. “Mon pauvre petit…” Her voice was syrupy with maternal warmth, far too natural for the circumstances. Katy shifted uneasily, unsettled by how easily Izabella fussed over him as though she had done this before.

“How long has he been like this?” Katy asked, her voice tighter than she intended.

Izabella rocked him, studying his unnaturally bright eyes. “I cannot say. At least… forty minutes, perhaps? It is hard to know when it began.”

Katy’s gaze drifted around the room. The bed was neatly made, the curtains still, no overturned chair, no broken glass. Not a single sign of a struggle. And yet the door had been unlocked. Someone with a key, she thought grimly. Someone who wanted him found like this.

“Where’s Hugo? And Carlos?” she asked suddenly.

“Hugo is resting in the nursery,” Izabella replied matter-of-factly, still rocking the baby. “As for Monsieur Carlos…” She hesitated, shaking her head. “I do not know where he is.”

Katy frowned. “We only just heard about the device. All we know is that we need some kind of code to use it and Carlos said he was going to see if any clue was in Hugo’s bedroom.

Izabella tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “Oh… is that so? Then perhaps he has found it.” She kissed the crown of Mark’s head and adjusted him more securely against her chest. “But for now, mademoiselle, I must put a nappy on this cutie. He can sit with Master Hugo until we can fix things, no?”

Katy nodded slowly, her eyes following the way Izabella rocked the baby with practiced ease. The sight left her slightly turned on, the way the baby's naked body swayed against Izabella's large breasts, his tiny form nestled against her ample cleavage. Katy imagined herself in the baby's place, helpless and at the mercy of Izabella's gentle yet firm hold, the rhythm of her movements both soothing and provocative. Shaking her head, Katy broke out of the trance, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and arousal at the unexpected thoughts that had crept into her mind.

Izabella noticed Katy's lingering gaze and smiled knowingly, her dark eyes gleaming with a hint of amusement "Perhaps you can come help me with the little one, no?"

Katy flushed, caught off guard. “Sure… I guess that makes sense.” She hesitated a moment, then followed behind, her steps cautious. Izabella carried baby Mark easily, as though she’d done it countless times, and led the way down the corridor to the farthest door.

“I thought this was just a spare bathroom,” Katy murmured nervously.

“Non, madame,” Izabella replied with a lilting laugh, setting her free hand to the brass handle. “It is not. This is where Master Hugo has his… how do you say timeouts.”

“Timeouts?” Katy echoed, confused.

“Oui,” Izabella said as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world. “When he wishes to rest as a child for a while, to ease his mind, he comes here.” She pushed the door open with her shoulder, and Katy’s breath caught.

Inside stretched a nursery  not small, but an entire room transformed. Cribs lined the walls, three in total, each polished wood with delicate carvings. A large playpen occupied the center of the space, its soft mats scattered with plush animals and rattles. In one corner stood a tall stack of nappies and folded linens, beside shelves of bottles, powders, and jars arranged with almost clinical precision. A rocking chair sat near the cribs, its cushions worn in the shape of frequent use.

And there, in the nearest crib, lay Hugo. His tiny chest rose and fell in deep sleep, his little fists curled under his chin. A bib was tucked around his neck, a faint speck of milk still glistening at the corner of his lips.

“Shhh,” Izabella whispered, glancing over her shoulder with a smile touched by mischief. “Do not wake the master. He gets cranky if his sleep is disturbed.”

The casualness of her tone left Katy uncertain whether to laugh or shiver.

Izabella crossed to the changing table, laying Mark down on its padded surface. The baby squirmed at once, kicking and wriggling as though in protest, his glowing brown eyes darting anxiously. Katy thought it odd almost as if he understood what was about to happen.

“Pass the wipes, mademoiselle?” Izabella asked pleasantly, holding out a hand without looking away from the wriggling infant.

Izabella accepted the packet from Katy with a grateful nod and began cleaning Mark’s damp skin with practiced ease, murmuring soothing words in French as she worked. Her touch was gentle yet firm, her hands moving with a delicate precision that spoke of her experience. As she wiped the baby’s tiny, wrinkled body, her fingers carefully attended to his most intimate areas. She wiped his little balls, the touch both tender and efficient, before gently holding his willy to clean it. The baby, seemingly excited by the touch, stopped his gurgling, his tiny body stilling for a moment as if savouring the sensation, his eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and contentment.

Izabella noticed the excitement from the baby and cooed at him in a cute, playful voice, "Aww, mon petit chou like his little pee pee being touched? Such a lively garçon.” She glanced at Katy with a knowing grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Les petits garçons, they are always easy to cheer, no?”  she wiggled her chest, drawing the baby's gaze upward, his eyes locking onto her with a lovestruck expression, almost as if he were in a trance. She adjusted the baby gently, patting his tummy before turning back to Katy. Allez, be a dear and pass me the, hmm? Une couche how you say in English… nappy, yes?” After that, I will give him some milk he must be hungry, pauvre petit, not having eaten any supper.” Her tone was light, lilting, and playful, but there was a firmness beneath it the kind of gentle authority that made Katy feel she had little choice but to obey.

Katy passed the nappy across, her fingers brushing Izabella’s hand for a brief moment. She hesitated before stepping back, her gaze lingering on Mark. As Izabella worked with calm, practiced ease, what unsettled Katy was how subdued Mark had become. He was no longer kicking and babbling or even crying; instead, he lay transfixed, his tiny body completely still and captivated by Izabella. Drool escaped his lips, as if he were under her spell, his eyes locked onto her with an intensity that bordered on adoration.

Izabella lifted the baby gently, her hands cradling his chubby legs as she slipped the nappy beneath him with a practiced, fluid motion. She cooed softly, her voice a soothing melody that seemed to wrap around the infant, holding him in a state of blissful calm.

“Voilà, mon petit trésor,” she murmured. There we are, my little treasure. Her fingers worked deftly, fastening the nappy in place with the ease of someone who had done this countless times.

“There, there, mon ange,” Izabella went on, her French accent turning the words into a tender lullaby. My angel. She bent close, making playful faces — crossing her eyes, puffing out her cheeks

“Tu es tout propre maintenant, mon doux garçon,” she said warmly. You are all clean now, my sweet boy.

Mark, seemingly entranced, gazed back at her with wide, glowing eyes, his tiny fists unclenching, his body melting into her touch. His devotion was unblinking, as though Izabella’s voice alone had tethered him to peace.

Katy watched from a step back, her arms folded tightly across her chest. The sight was both mesmerizing and unsettling Watching Izabella fuss over Mark felt almost intrusive, like stepping into a role she wasn’t meant to play. Clearing her throat, she managed a small, polite smile.

“I’ll go then… I won’t be long,” Katy said quietly.

Izabella looked up briefly from the changing mat, her hands still busy tucking the fresh nappy into place. “Très bien, mademoiselle,” she replied softly, her accent lilting. She brushed a gentle hand over Mark’s chest, soothing his little squirms. “We will be here.”

Katy lingered just a second longer, her eyes flicking from Mark’s oddly serene face to the crib where Hugo still slept, before she turned toward the hall. The nursery door closed gently behind her, leaving the muffled sound of Izabella’s cooing in the background.

Katy stepped out into the hall, her mind still clouded by the image of Izabella bent over the changing mat. She exhaled slowly, but as she glanced down at herself, she winced. The dark gravy stain on her blouse and skirt was spread far wider than she’d realized, the fabric stiff and sticky where it had dried. No amount of dabbing at dinner was going to fix that.

With a grimace, she hurried back to her room. Her suitcase sat on the bed where she’d left it, and she quickly pulled free a fresh blouse and skirt. As she changed, Katy’s thoughts tangled with half-formed questions.

There had to be a connection between all of them. Sarah and Dean,twins, barely out of college. Flo, forced to come by her dean. Daniel, polished but distant. And then Mark. He had let slip earlier that he worked in R&D for some rival company. Was that why he’d been chosen? Because Hugo thought he might be linked to something bigger? Or because he knew something he wasn’t admitting?

Her mind flicked to the sound of footsteps earlier  Mark running down the hallway, though she hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Now she wondered if she’d dismissed it too quickly.

And then there were the eyes. She shivered, fastening the last button of her blouse. Hugo’s impossibly blue glow. Mark’s strange, burning brown light. Infants, yes, but not normal infants. Something inside them still flickered, something adult, something aware.

Katy stood for a moment in the quiet of her room, the storm still rumbling faintly outside. She pressed her palms flat against the desk, steadying herself. Whatever was happening in this house was no stunt. And it wasn’t random. There was a pattern here  she just hadn’t seen it yet.

Katy let out a soft sigh as she smoothed her fresh clothes and stepped back into the corridor. The storm still rumbled outside, its weight pressing faintly against the shutters as she made her way downstairs. Her footsteps echoed as she crossed the entrance hall and followed the faint sound of voices.

The laughter and low chatter drew her to the drawing room, the place where she had first met them all. She pushed the door open and found everyone inside, everyone except Carlos.

“Oh, hey Katy,” Flo called, her face lighting briefly before she grimaced apologetically. “Sorry again about earlier. I’m so clumsy.”

“It’s fine, really,” Katy said, her tone soft. But then her face hardened, her voice lowering into something that silenced the room. “But I have to tell you something.”

The seriousness in her tone caught the others’ attention at once. Conversations died off. Eyes turned toward her.

“What is it?” asked Sarah, her brow knitting.

Katy drew a breath. “It’s Mark. I found him… in his room. He’s been regressed.”

“Shut up,” Jessica snapped, her eyes narrowing.

Katy shook her head firmly. “No. It’s true. Izabella is with him now. He looked younger than Hugo. Much younger.” She hesitated, muttering almost to herself, “If that really was Hugo at all…”

Dean leaned forward, his tone sharp. “So what? You’re saying this is all real?”

“I don’t know,” Katy admitted. “All I can say is what I saw.” She swallowed hard before continuing. “And it brings me to the next point. The only ones not with me, Flo, and Daniel in the lab were Carlos, you three” she gestured to the twins and Jessica “and Mark.”

Jessica’s arms folded tightly. “What are you saying, Katy? That one of us is responsible?”

“That’s rubbish,” Dean snapped back immediately. “I was with Sarah the whole time. You can’t seriously think one of us”

Flo raised her hand, her voice quiet but steady. “Don’t forget… Carlos left us. He said he was going to Hugo’s room.”

A hush fell.

“That’s true,” Katy admitted. “But still…” Her eyes flicked toward the door, unease prickling her spine. “And what about Izabella? She was supposedly with Hugo in the nursery. That doesn’t rule her out either.”

Daniel leaned forward, his voice calm but firm. “Okay, I don’t think it’s good making accusations or trying to divide us now. If this is true, then we need to work together, stick together. Splitting apart just makes us weaker. I say we gather everyone up and make a plan.”

The room quieted as they listened. Daniel glanced around the circle before continuing. “The first logical choice is to get the device from the lab. If we can use it to age Hugo and Mark back up, they can tell us who the culprit really is.”

“That’s actually a good idea,” Flo remarked softly, nodding. “Carlos said he was trying to find the code to access the case.”

“Code?” Dean repeated, frowning. “Why don’t we just break it open?”

Sarah shot him a look. “You think that’s a good idea? Who knows what security measures are on it. It could self-destruct or worse.”

Dean shrugged but didn’t answer.

“Maybe there’s a schematic,” Jessica said dryly. She swirled the drink in her glass and raised her brows. “Something that shows how to build another one. But then again… our only scientist is currently chewing on his own fist.”

That earned a strained laugh from Sarah, but the room quickly sank back into uneasy silence

Daniel pushed himself up from his chair, straightening his blazer as if that gave the moment structure. “Alright then. Let’s gather up and discuss this properly. Katy, you and the twins can look for Carlos. Flo and I will go find Izabella.”

“Where did you say she was?” Sarah asked.

“Bottom of the east wing, last door,” Katy replied quickly.

“And Hugo’s room?” Dean chimed in, frowning.

“I don’t know,” Daniel admitted. “But if he spends most of his time in the lab, it would make sense that his quarters are nearby. Somewhere close to it, maybe.”

Jessica snorted, slamming her glass onto the table. “Okay, hold up. What makes you think I want to go traipsing off to some nursery with you lot? For all I know, one of you could be the… uh, regressor.”

“Well, I’d say stay here then,” Daniel replied evenly, his gaze sharp, “but frankly, that just makes you look more suspicious.”

Jessica bristled, glaring back at him. For a heartbeat it seemed like she might refuse outright, but finally she grumbled, “Fine. But twenty minutes. Then we all meet back here.”

“Twenty minutes,” Daniel agreed, scanning the group. “No more.”

Katy led the way, her shoes tapping softly against the polished floor as she guided the twins back toward the eastern corridor. The smell of roasted meat and herbs still lingered faintly in the air, a ghost of the meal they’d left behind.

“This way,” she said quietly, glancing back at Sarah and Dean. “If Carlos was going to Hugo’s room, it would make sense for it to be near the lab. He spends most of his time there.”

Dean shoved his hands into his pockets, his sandy hair falling into his eyes as he kept pace beside his sister. “Great. A midnight stroll through secret passages in a thunderstorm. Nothing creepy about that.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Don’t start.”

They reached the corridor near the kitchen, dimly lit by sconces. Katy’s stomach tightened as her eyes flicked toward the wall where the painting of Hebe had hidden the laboratory door. The panel was no longer glowing faintly at the edges. It had slid shut again, the wall perfectly seamless.

She slowed, staring at it for a fraction too long before Sarah’s voice pulled her back. “Katy? Which way now?”

“Uh—this way,” Katy said quickly, gesturing down the corridor. She didn’t mention what she’d seen, or that the lab was sealed. Better to keep that to herself for now.

They walked deeper into the passage, the air cooler here, their footsteps echoing oddly. Somewhere above, thunder rolled, rattling the ceiling faintly.

Dean gave a low whistle. “Place feels like a maze. You sure we’ll even find him?”

Katy swallowed, her mind working as she scanned the walls, half-expecting another hidden door. “If Carlos came this way, we’ll find something. Just… keep your eyes open.”

Sarah hugged her cardigan tighter. “Eyes open for what, exactly? Secret bedrooms? Another baby?”

Katy didn’t answer. The thought was too close to what she feared might be true.

They turned a corner and came face-to-face with a flat wall. The corridor simply… stopped.

Dean groaned, throwing his hands up. “Oh, nice one, Katy. Dead end. Real efficient search party we’ve got here.”

Sarah elbowed him, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be rude.”

Katy ignored them both. Something about the abrupt ending didn’t feel right. In a house this size, with all its twists and turns, why would a corridor just… stop? She stepped closer, running her hands lightly over the wall’s surface. The wallpaper felt cool beneath her fingertips, the faintest uneven seam catching at her nail.

“Hang on,” she murmured. “This place is full of secrets. Dead ends like this don’t make sense unless they’re hiding something.”

She pressed more firmly, palm sweeping slowly along the edge until she felt a section shift under her touch. With a low mechanical groan, a square of the wall depressed inward, then slid to the side, revealing a darkened doorway.

Dean’s mouth fell open. “What the…? Seriously? Like something out of a movie.”

Sarah leaned forward, her voice hushed. “What is this place?”

Katy’s pulse quickened, but she forced her expression neutral. “Only one way to find out.”

Together, they stepped cautiously inside, the heavy air of a large, unfamiliar bedroom pressing in around them.

he massive bed at the center was perfectly made, though a subtle crease across the coverlet suggested someone had been there only moments earlier. Curtains hung heavy at the windows, muting the flicker of lightning beyond.

Dean stepped just inside and gave a low whistle. “Yeah… no doubt about it. This has to be Hugo’s room. No one else gets a setup like this.”

Sarah drifted toward a wardrobe, her fingers brushing its polished surface. “If this is his room, then where’s Carlos? You said he came this way.”

Katy’s gaze swept the chamber until something caught her eye near the far wall. A picture frame lay face down on the carpet, its glass cracked. Beside it, a safe stood wide open, papers spilling untidily onto the floor. Someone had clearly gone through it in a hurry.

Dean crouched automatically and reached for one of the loose sheets. “Well, somebody didn’t care about leaving a mess—”

“Wait,” Sarah said sharply, pulling at his sleeve. “Don’t touch. Let her look.”

Katy stepped closer, kneeling by the scattered papers. Most were typed documents stamped with neat official seals, but a few were covered in Hugo’s distinctive scrawl. She picked one up carefully, her eyes scanning the uneven lines.

“Two weeks regressed. Clarity fades, but peace lingers.”

Another page bore a similar hand:

“Izabella adapts well. Maternal instincts stronger than I anticipated.”

And another:

“Strange comfort, returning to infancy. Easier to surrender than resist.”

The words made her chest tighten. They weren’t reports or schematics. They were fragments of a diary, glimpses into Hugo’s private experiments and his reliance on Izabella as caretaker during them. It was personal, unsettling… and revealed more than Carlos had admitted.

Dean hovered behind her, arms folded. “So, what do you make of it?” he asked, his tone uneasy but curious.

Katy hesitated, tucking the papers back into a pile. “Whoever opened this safe, they weren’t just guessing. They knew what they wanted.” Her eyes flicked toward the plain door at the far end of the room. “And I think Carlos might have found more than just a code.”

The door on the far side of the bedroom creaked as Dean pushed it open, the hinges sighing against the quiet. Beyond was another corridor, dimly lit by sconces that buzzed faintly with electricity. The carpet here was older, patterned with faded florals, and the plastered walls bore faint cracks where damp had crept in. It felt different from the east wing they had just come from, less polished, more forgotten.

Dean stepped out first, glancing left and right. “Well,” he said, his tone dry but edged with tension. “I suggest we meet up with the others. We might have a rogue butler on our hands. Jessica would love that for the cliché.” He shook his head, lips quirking with forced humor. “Let’s try going this way.”

They followed the corridor, turning where it bent sharply. Soon the heavy double doors of the main hall came into view, their panels carved with hawks and twisting vines. Beyond them lay the grand entry where they had all first arrived, though now the windows above were sealed behind thick steel shutters, muting the storm outside into a low, constant growl.

As they walked, Sarah broke the silence. “So… Katy. You’ve been kind of quiet. What do you do? Outside of this madness, I mean.”

Katy hesitated, the echo of her own footsteps filling the pause. “Local government. Planning permissions, permit approvals, paperwork. Nothing exciting.” She gave a small shrug. “I don’t really know why I’m here.”

Dean gave a short laugh, though it lacked warmth. “Guess that makes three of us. I work IT support. Fixing computers, resetting passwords, telling people to restart their laptops. Glamorous, right? But my manager made it real clear, if I didn’t come to this thing, don’t bother showing up Monday.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “He said Hawthorne’s company had ties to one of our systems. That’s all. No explanation. Just… ‘Go or you’re done.’”

Sarah glanced at her brother, then at Katy. “I’m in grad school. Teaching assistance mostly, helping undergrads with their coursework while I try to finish my degree. I wasn’t exactly given a choice either. My supervisor pushed me. Said Hawthorne had read part of my thesis draft, something about cognitive development theories I’d been working on. Honestly, I thought he was joking. Next thing I knew, I was on a train here.”

Katy’s brow furrowed. She remembered Flo’s story about her dean forcing her to come, Mark’s threat of losing his job, and now this. Each of them had been cornered into attending, pulled here by the weight of other people’s authority. “So we’ve all been forced,” she murmured. “Dragged into this for different reasons.”

Dean shoved his hands into his pockets, his voice low. “Yeah. Which means Hawthorne didn’t just pick us at random. He made sure the right people leaned on us. Someone wanted us here.”

Sarah’s eyes flicked to her brother nervously. “Or maybe the wrong people.”

They reached the end of the corridor and stepped into the main hall. The vast space looked even more imposing now, its high ceiling swallowed by shadows, the chandelier above swaying slightly as if stirred by the storm’s breath. The grand entrance doors stood sealed, heavy shutters pressed tight over the glass. Whatever freedom they had once assumed was gone.

Dean glanced up at the sealed windows, muttering, “Guess we’re not going anywhere.”

The words lingered in the dim hall, carried on the storm’s low growl. Katy cast a glance toward the east wing staircase, its runner carpet climbing upward into gloom. Without a word, the three of them turned and began to ascend, their footsteps muffled, the air heavy as if the storm’s weight pressed against the very walls. Shutters seeped into the very walls. Down the corridor, a muted glow spilled from a half-open door, accompanied by the faint, rhythmic murmur of voices.

As they drew closer, Katy recognized the sound of Izabella’s soft French lilt. Dean pushed the door fully open, and they stepped inside.

The nursery looked much as it had before — cribs lined neatly along the wall, a playpen set in the middle, shelves stacked with folded nappies and bottles, and the gentle creak of a rocking chair by the window. But now it was crowded with people. Daniel stood near the door, arms folded, while Flo hovered beside him. Jessica lingered by the far wall, restless as ever, tapping a fingernail against the wood.

Izabella sat by the changing table, cooing gently as she stroked the cheek of the newest infant. The baby lay on his back atop a soft blanket, tiny fists opening and closing, gurgling mindlessly. A bib lay crooked under his chin, stained with a dried splash of milk that clung in faint streaks.

Katy’s eyes flicked past him — and caught on Hugo. He sat upright in a crib, a thick nappy fastened snugly around his waist. His bare legs sprawled out clumsily as he sucked rhythmically on a pacifier. A faint trail of drool dampened the fabric beneath his chin.

What struck her most, though, wasn’t the sight of them in nappies, or even their babbling incoherence. It was their eyes. Where Hugo’s gaze had once burned with piercing blue light, now his irises were dulled, vacant, glassy. Mark’s were the same — the deep brown glow she had seen earlier now reduced to something faint, almost extinguished. Both babies stared without focus, their babbling emptier than before, as if some spark had been dimmed.

“Where’s Carlos?” he asked.

“Not sure,” Katy said. “We think he’s been through Hugo’s room and taken something, but we don’t know what.” Her eyes flicked toward the cribs. “Also… what’s happened to the babies?”

Izabella tilted her head. “Qu’est-ce que vous voulez dire, mademoiselle?”

“Their eyes,” Katy said, frowning. “They’re not so bright anymore, not like before.”

Daniel leaned closer to one of the cribs, nodding slowly. “She’s right… they’re duller. Guess it must be some feature of the device?”

Katy scrunched her face, unconvinced. “Maybe,” she murmured quietly.

She turned back toward Izabella. “We need to find Carlos so we can work out a plan. Any ideas?”

Izabella lifted a shoulder in a faint shrug. “Non, ma chérie. I am sure he will return soon enough.”

“Hm. Okay, fine,” Katy said, shifting uneasily. “So what now? We could put the babies down for a nap with, I don’t know… an intercom or something to keep an ear on them, then wait in the drawing room. I’m sure Carlos will meet us there.”

Izabella’s hands smoothed over her apron as she shook her head. “Non, non. All this running about is silly. You all should stay here. I shall take Mademoiselle Katy and go to Monsieur Carlos’s room. It will not take long.”

Jessica gave a sharp laugh, crossing her arms. “Oh, sure. That sounds ominous. And then what? We find Katy crawling around naked, babbling like the others while you coo over her?”

Katy, now deeply immersed in the fantasy, found herself imagining the scenario Jessica had described with a mix of excitement and trepidation. In her mind's eye, she saw herself, reduced to a helpless, babbling baby, crawling naked on the cool floor. Her chubby limbs barely controllable, she flailed and gurgled, her mind a blank slate of innocence and dependence.

Izabella turned her head slowly, fixing Jessica with a cool, steady look. “Then you will know it was me,” she said evenly, “and the mystery will be solved at last.”

Jessica blinked, her smirk faltering at the sheer calmness of the reply. “Convenient answer,” she muttered, though the edge in her voice had dulled.

Daniel cleared his throat. “Maybe I should go as well,” he suggested, his eyes flicking between Katy and Izabella.

Before Katy could answer, Dean spoke up from where he leaned on the wall. “Wait, so the rest of us are just supposed to sit in here? With… them?” He gestured toward the two babies, both gurgling on their playmat. “I didn’t exactly sign up to babysit.”

“Yeah,” Sarah added quickly, arms folding. “We came here to listen to some eccentric speech and get paid, not… this.”

Jessica gave a dry laugh. “Speaking of which, are we even still getting the money? Or does that only happen if we make it out without pacifiers?”

“Ten grand,” Dean muttered. “Starting to feel like it’s not enough.”

Flo frowned. “Look, like it or not, we have to figure this out. If the only way is helping… then we help.”

Daniel raised his voice a little over the bickering. “Maybe I should go as well,” he repeated, looking back to Katy.

“Katy?” His voice sharpened slightly. “Hello, are you awake?”

Katy blinked hard, realizing she had been staring at the floor, She straightened quickly, heat rising in her cheeks. “No… it’s fine,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “Like Izabella said, at least we’ll know who the culprit is if that happens.”

A faint smile curved Izabella’s lips, though her eyes betrayed nothing. “Très bien,” she murmured softly

The west wing was quieter than the rest of the house, the storm’s howl fading to a distant murmur against its thick stone walls. The carpets here were heavier, the colour deep wine red, muffling their footsteps as they went. A long row of closed doors lined either side of the corridor, each marked with a discreet brass plaque.

Izabella finally stopped before one of them near the end of the hall. She slipped a small ring of keys from her pocket, selecting one and fitting it neatly into the lock. The latch clicked softly as she turned it, pushing the door open.

“Voilà, my room,” she said lightly, turning back with her usual easy smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It will take only un petit moment, I must fetch something.”

She stepped inside and crossed to her wardrobe, pulling it open with a quiet creak. The faint scent of lavender drifted out as she moved hangers aside.

“Make yourself comfortable, mademoiselle,” she added with a quick smile over her shoulder, setting her keys down on the small table by the door with a soft clink.

“Actually,” Katy said, glancing to the side, “could I use your bathroom real quick?”

“Of course,” Izabella replied, gesturing to a narrow door at the corner of the room. “Just there.”

Katy slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind her.

She didn’t linger. Just as she reached for the handle to return, a sharp voice cut through the quiet, muffled but distinct enough to still her hand.

“…crossed the line…”

Katy froze.

She eased the bathroom door open a sliver. The bedroom beyond was empty.

Her heart picked up.

She crept forward, holding her breath, and edged the main door open just enough to see the hall.

Carlos stood just outside, facing Izabella. His voice was low but trembling with anger, his hands cutting sharp gestures through the air.

“…should not have done this…”

Izabella murmured something too soft for Katy to catch.

Carlos’s reply was harder, colder.

“…And why did you…” His voice caught. “…why did you feed him?”

Katy’s breath snagged. She leaned closer before she could stop herself.

Izabella spoke again, placating, her tone almost soothing, but the words were lost to the storm rumbling outside.

Carlos drew himself up, his expression carved from stone. “This is not what we agreed to,” he said, quieter now but with more weight.

Then his eyes flicked to the side and locked on Katy, peeking from the doorway.

Her stomach lurched.

Carlos stared for a beat, face unreadable. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and strode down the corridor, each step echoing sharp and fast until he disappeared around the corner toward the main hall.

Katy stepped out from the doorway fully, the soft carpet swallowing her steps. Izabella turned at the sound, her face smoothing into a faint smile that didn’t quite mask the flicker of sorrow in her eyes.

“What… was that about?” Katy asked quietly.

For a moment, Izabella just watched her, then sighed, her shoulders drooping ever so slightly. “Monsieur Carlos… he is simply stressed,” she said softly. “He thinks I… how you say… overstepped. By babying Master Hugo in front of the guests. It embarrasses him, I think.”

Katy blinked. It wasn’t entirely unreasonable, she supposed. Carlos had been on edge ever since the transformation. “I guess that makes sense,” she said gently. Then, hesitating, “What about the device? Has he… found it?”

Izabella nodded once, brisk again, though her eyes still held something fragile. “Oui. He has it now. He will fix everything.”

Relief loosened the knot in Katy’s chest. “That’s… good,” she breathed. “Really good.”

“Shall we head back and tell the others?” Izabella asked, her tone lighter.

“Sounds good.” Katy moved to the door, but Izabella paused by the dresser.

“Oh, les clés…” she murmured to herself, lifting a small brass keyring. Several keys jingled as she slipped it into her pocket, their shapes catching the light. One in particular stood out to Katy, old-fashioned and ornate, a delicate skeleton key among the plainer brass ones.

Katy didn’t say anything. She only nodded as Izabella joined her at the door.

“Come, mademoiselle,” Izabella said with a soft smile. “We will not keep them waiting.”

The walk back through the west wing felt heavier somehow, as if the air itself pressed down on them. The storm outside still growled faintly, dulled by the thick stone walls, and the carpets swallowed their steps in silence. When they reached the main hall, its vast space seemed even more imposing than before. The chandelier above swayed slightly as though stirred by some unseen draft, and the tall entrance doors loomed at the far end, sealed tight behind their heavy metal shutters.

They crossed the marble floor toward the east wing corridor when movement caught Katy’s eye near the base of the grand staircase.

“Daniel?” she said, her voice sharp with surprise. “What are you doing here We’re supposed to stay together.”

Her tone carried a bite of irritation. Beside her, Izabella’s gaze hardened, lips tightening in quiet disapproval.

Daniel lifted his hands slightly, his expression neutral. “Relax. I just left my phone in the drawing room. I wanted to see if I could get a signal.”

zabella said nothing. She merely swept past him toward the nursery, her heels clicking softly on the marble as though he weren’t worth a response.

Katy frowned, falling in beside her. “We agreed to stay in groups,” she pressed.

Daniel only replied with a thin smile. “And yet, here I am.”

“Did you find Carlos?” Daniel asked, glancing between them.

Yes,” Izabella said at last, her voice cool. “He is fetching the device now. Soon he will return and fix Master Hugo, and this will be settled once and for all.”.

“Brilliant,” Daniel muttered, and fell into step behind them without another word

They crossed the main hall together, their footsteps echoing off the marble floor. The chandelier above swayed faintly, glass prisms whispering as thunder grumbled somewhere far away. From there, they followed the east corridor until the soft golden glow of the nursery came into view.

Inside, the air was warm and still, the faint hum of the storm muffled by the thick walls. The twins were perched on the edge of a low cabinet, talking quietly, while Flo knelt beside the playpen in the centre of the room. Jessica rocked lazily in a wooden chair, arms folded, watching the two small figures lying among the toys.

Dean glanced up as they stepped back into the nursery, one brow arched. “Well, that took you longer than a couple of minutes.”

Katy frowned. “And why exactly did you let Daniel wander off?”

Dean raised his hands. “What am I, his babysitter?”

“Not yet,” Jessica said dryly, earning a muffled laugh from Sarah.

“When you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go,” Dean added with a shrug.

“He’s too big for a nappy anyway,” Sarah teased, nodding at Daniel with mock solemnity.

Daniel gave a dry half-smile but said nothing, simply folding his arms.

Flo straightened, brushing off her skirt. “Did you find Carlos?”

“Yes,” Izabella replied, her tone smooth. She crouched by the playpen, checking the babies’ blankets as she spoke. “He is retrieving the device now. Soon you will see this is no trick. We will fix everything.”

“Good,” Daniel said quietly. “The sooner we sort this out, the better.”

Dean hesitated, shifting his weight. “Then what? We just… go home like nothing happened?”

“I do not care what happens after,” Izabella said simply, smoothing Hugo’s hair. “Only that my maître is restored.”

A hush settled over the group, broken only by the soft creak of the rocking chair and the faint coo of one of the babies.

“Well,” Jessica said finally, stretching her legs, “at least this is the weirdest babysitting gig I’ve ever had.”

“Same,” Flo muttered, and a few uneasy chuckles rippled through the room.