He Kicked Down the Door to Destroy the Maid — Until Her 3-Year-Old Son Stood in Front of His Sick Daughter With a Hidden Pink Backpack

Julian froze mid-air, slowly setting his foot back down on the marble. His face flushed bright crimson, half in embarrassment, half in terror.

Gabriel stood up slowly to his full height. At six-foot-three, he cast a shadow that completely swallowed his younger brother. He gently pulled Lucy back by the scruff of his little shirt, placing him safely behind Claire, who wrapped her arms around her trembling boy.

"Gabriel, darling, what are you doing?" Evelyn pleaded, stepping up to Gabriel’s side and trying to slide her hand onto his forearm. "Julian was just trying to protect your daughter! Look at this chaotic woman! She’s clearly trying to frame someone because she got caught stealing!"

Gabriel looked down at Evelyn’s hand on his sleeve. His dark eyes were dead, devoid of any warmth. Evelyn flinched and slowly withdrew her touch.

"Claire," Gabriel said, never taking his eyes off his brother. "Tell me everything. Start from two o’clock this afternoon."

Claire wiped the tears from her chin and stood up, holding Lucy firmly against her hip. Despite her worn uniform and red eyes, she stood with the dignity of an empress.

"At two o’clock, Mr. Julian came to Abigail's bedroom while you were in meetings," Claire said, her voice clear and carrying through the silent mansion. "He brought a glass of apple juice and these new capsules. He told me Abigail was looking worse and that Dr. Harrison had doubled her dosage."

Julian scoffed loudly. "That’s a blatant lie! I was at the downtown club until three!"

"You weren't," Abigail’s tiny voice interrupted from behind Claire’s skirt.

The entire room went dead silent.

Abigail stepped forward, her small face streaked with tears, pointing a shaking finger directly at Julian. "Uncle Julian gave me the pill. It tasted bad, Daddy. It burned my tongue. I spit it out under my rug when he looked at his phone."

Julian’s face drained of color until he was as white as the Carrara marble beneath his feet.