The Baby Who Stopped Crying in the Maid's Arms

CHAPTER 1 - THE CRY THAT STOPPED

"Come on, Nico. Please stop crying."

Ethan Vale stood in the center of the great hall like a man lost in his own house.

In Ethan's arms, the baby screamed harder.

He bounced the child with the awkward desperation of a father who had not slept and no longer trusted himself to do even the simplest thing right.

On the left side of the hall, a young maid dropped the white cloth she had been holding and hurried toward him. Her burgundy uniform was neat, though one sleeve was damp from work. Her eyes never left the baby.

"Sir, please..."

Ethan looked up, tense.

"Let me hold him."

For one second, he hesitated. Then he gave a stiff nod and carefully passed the baby into her arms.

"Nico?" he said softly, as if the child might answer him.

The crying stopped almost at once.

Not slowly. Not in stages.

One breath of sound, and then nothing.

The baby pressed his face against the maid's white collar and went still, little fingers curling into her apron. The hall seemed to exhale with him.

Ethan stared. "He stopped crying."

The maid adjusted the pale blue sleeve on the baby's arm. Then her hand froze.

On the inside of Nico's wrist was a light brown birthmark, curved like a half-moon.

Her face drained of color. Her lips parted. Her eyes filled before she could stop them.

She touched the mark with one trembling finger.

"My baby had that same birthmark," she whispered.

Ethan's whole body tightened.

He stepped closer. "What did you say?"

The maid lifted her eyes to his, full of shock and fear.

Before she could answer, an older housekeeper rushed into the hall and said, "Sir... Mrs. Vale's sister is here. She says that girl must leave this house right now."