The Cruel Fiancée Pumped Poison Into the Nursery Vents — Until the Nanny Ripped Open the Floorboards

Eleanor smiled, but the expression didn't reach her cold, calculating eyes.

"Claire, isn't it time for you to be organizing the playroom?" Eleanor asked smoothly, crossing her arms. "You seem to be spending an awful lot of time sniffing around the floorboards. Are we paying you to be a nanny or a rodent?"

Claire didn't back down. She stood her ground, her jaw locked.

"I was just checking the air conditioning," Claire replied evenly. "There's a strange chemical smell coming from the nursery vent. I think Vincent needs to call a technician."

Eleanor’s realistic facial micro-expressions betrayed a sudden, sharp flicker of panic, but she masked it instantly with arrogant authority.

"The system is state-of-the-art," Eleanor sneered, taking a step closer to intimidate the nanny. "It dispenses a customized, organic aromatherapy mist to help the boys sleep. Not that a minimum-wage babysitter would understand luxury smart-home technology."

"Aromatherapy doesn't make children cough up blood," Claire stated, her voice dropping to a dangerous, fearless whisper.

Eleanor’s face turned the color of ash. Her pristine mask slipped, revealing the ruthless monster beneath.

"Listen to me very carefully," Eleanor hissed, leaning in so close Claire could smell her expensive perfume. "Vincent is exhausted. Next week, I am convincing him to send those sickly brats to a long-term medical facility in Switzerland so we can finally have some peace. If you mention this vent to him again, I will have you fired, blacklisted, and thrown out of this state before midnight."