For Symphony
Christian pulled the black SUV into a shaded corner of the hospital parking lot and killed the engine.
The silence that followed was thick, broken only by Symphony’s soft, unhappy whimpers from the back seat.
She had been restless since they left the doctor’s office, fever still lingering, stomach unsettled, little body squirming in her car seat.
Melody unbuckled quickly, twisting to reach her daughter. “She needs to eat,” she said, voice low but firm. “She’s too weak to wait until we get home.”
Christian nodded once and got out to help.
He opened the back door while Melody climbed in beside Symphony, lifting the baby into her lap with practiced gentleness. Christian pulled a pre-warmed bottle from the insulated bag and offered it.
Symphony latched immediately, small hands clutching the bottle, eyes half-closed in exhausted relief. For a moment, the only sounds were the soft suckling and the faint ticking of the cooling engine.
Then Melody spoke... quiet, but cutting.
“She’s calmer now. Because she’s with me. Not because of whatever Ashley’s been putting in her bottles.”
Christian, still standing outside the open door, froze.
Melody didn’t look at him.
She kept her eyes on Symphony, stroking the baby’s cheek with her thumb.
“You thought she was just ‘good with her,’” Melody continued, voice trembling with barely restrained fury.
“You thought she was the miracle worker who could calm your crying baby when no one else could. But she wasn’t calming her.
She was drugging her. Sedating her. Doping your four-month-old daughter so she’d be quiet and easy.
So she could play perfect mommy and win you over. ”
Christian’s hands clenched into fists at his sides.
His voice came out low, dangerous.
“You don’t know that.”
Melody’s laugh was bitter, broken.
“I know exactly what she did. The same way I knew what Ashton did. The same way I knew what you let your mother and her do to me. You never see it, Christian. You never want to see it. You just believe whoever tells you the prettiest lie.”
She looked up at him then, eyes blazing through tears.
“Marry her,” she said, voice rising. “Go on. Marry her and see your daughter die. Because that’s what will happen if you let her keep dosing Symphony.
One day the dose will be too high. One day she’ll stop breathing.
And you’ll stand there wondering how it happened, while Ashley cries crocodile tears and tells you it was an accident. ”
Christian slammed the car door shut. Hard enough to make the vehicle rock.
He yanked the front door open and got in, slamming that one too.
The confined space amplified every word.
“Don’t you dare,” he snarled. “Don’t you dare accuse her of trying to kill our daughter.”
“She already has,” Melody shot back, voice shaking but loud.
“She drugged her. She made her sick. She made her suffer. And you let her. You chose her. You put that ring on her finger and told me I was nothing. You told me I was a murderer. You told me I’d rot in prison if I fought for my own child.
And now you’re defending the woman who poisoned her? ”
Christian’s hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.
“I didn’t know,” he ground out. “I didn’t know what she was doing.”
“You didn’t want to know,” Melody cried.
“You wanted her to be perfect. You wanted her to be the answer. You wanted me gone so badly you didn’t care who filled the space.
And now look at her—” She gestured to Symphony, who had paused nursing to stare wide-eyed at the shouting.
“Look at your daughter. She’s been suffering because of your fiancée.
Because of you. Because you chose revenge over her. ”
Christian’s breathing was ragged.
His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
“You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to propose to Ashley because it was the only way to stop the screaming?”
Melody’s tears fell faster. “Then why did you?”
“Because she was there,” he said, voice cracking for the first time. “Because when Symphony cried, Ashley picked her up. Because when I couldn’t calm her, Ashley could. Because you were gone. You signed the papers. You left.”
“I didn’t leave!” Melody shouted. “You forced me out! You threatened me with prison! You told me I’d never see her again if I fought! You made me choose between my freedom and my daughter, and I chose her. I chose to sign so I could still see her twice a month. That’s not leaving. That’s survival.”
Christian slammed his palm against the steering wheel.
The horn blared once, sharp and shocking.
Symphony startled and began to cry again, high and frightened.
Melody immediately rocked her, shushing softly, kissing her curls.
“Shhh, baby, it’s okay. Mama’s here.”
Christian’s shoulders slumped.
He stared straight ahead, voice hoarse.
“I didn’t know,” he repeated. “I didn’t know about the sedatives. I didn’t know she was… hurting her.”
Melody looked at him over Symphony’s head, tears streaming, voice raw.
“Then do something about it,” she said. “Stop defending her. Stop pretending she’s good for Symphony. Stop pretending I’m the enemy. Because the real enemy is the woman you’re planning to marry. And if you let her stay… you’re going to lose your daughter. Not to me. To her.”
Christian’s eyes closed.
He didn’t answer.
He just sat there, hands gripping the wheel, breathing ragged, while Symphony cried softly in Melody’s arms.
×××××××
The front door opened with a quiet click.
Christian stepped inside first, Symphony cradled against his shoulder, still drowsy from the car ride and the doctor’s visit. Melody followed close behind, coat unbuttoned, eyes red from crying in the car, but posture straight. Sally appeared immediately, arms outstretched.
“Give her to me,” Sally said softly. “I’ll take her upstairs, get her settled.”
Christian hesitated only a second, then gently transferred Symphony into Sally’s waiting arms.
The baby stirred, small hand clutching his tie for a moment before letting go.
Melody stepped forward instinctively, reaching to brush a curl from Symphony’s forehead, pressing one last kiss to her temple.
“I love you,” she whispered. “Mama will see you soon.”
Sally nodded to both of them and carried the baby upstairs, disappearing down the hallway.
The foyer fell silent.
Christian turned to Melody.
His voice was low, controlled.
“Go with Sally. Stay with her until I call you down. I need to handle this alone.”
Melody’s eyes searched his... doubt, fear, hope all tangled together.
She nodded once.
Then she followed Sally up the stairs, footsteps fading.
Christian stood alone in the foyer for a long moment.
Then he walked into the living room.
He paced.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Hands flexing at his sides.
The grandfather clock ticked.
Minutes passed.
The front door opened again.
Ashley stepped in, coat draped over her arm, shopping bags in hand, smile bright and automatic.
“Darling, you’re home early—”
She stopped when she saw his face.
Christian stood in the center of the room, backlit by the fading daylight, eyes cold and unblinking.
Victoria appeared from the hallway, drawn by the sound of the door. She froze when she saw her son’s expression.
Ashley tried to smile again. “What’s wrong? You look—”
Christian’s voice cut through like a blade.
“Sedatives.”
Ashley blinked. “What?”
“In Symphony’s milk. Benzodiazepine metabolites. In her blood. The doctor found them today.”
Ashley’s smile vanished. Her shopping bags slipped to the floor.
Victoria’s hand flew to her throat. “Christian—”
He didn’t look at his mother.
His gaze stayed locked on Ashley.
“You dosed my daughter,” he said slowly, each word deliberate, terrifying in its calm. “You drugged a four-month-old. To make her sleep. To make her easy. To make yourself look good.”
Ashley shook her head quickly.
“No. No, that’s not what happened. I would never—”
Christian stepped forward.
His voice dropped... cold, frightening, the fury so contained it felt like frostbite.
“Don’t lie to me.”
Ashley backed up a step.
“It wasn’t me. It was Melody. She must have—”
Christian’s laugh was short, humorless, dangerous. “Melody? You think I’ll believe she drugged her own child?”
Ashley’s eyes darted to Victoria, pleading.
Victoria opened her mouth. “It wasn’t Ashley. It must have been—”
“Shut up.”
Christian’s voice cracked like ice.
Victoria flinched.
She actually took a step back.
He turned back to Ashley.
“You’re done,” he said quietly. “Pack your things. Get out. Tonight.”
Ashley’s face crumpled... shock, then rage.
“You can’t do this. We’re engaged. You proposed. You need me. Symphony needs—”
“Symphony needs her mother,” Christian cut in. “Not a woman who drugs her to win a game.”
Ashley’s voice rose... shrill, desperate.
“She’s unstable! She’s dangerous! She killed your brother—”
Christian stepped closer... slow, deliberate.
His voice was low, lethal.
“Get. Out. Of. My. House.”
Ashley stared at him, tears in her eyes now, but not from grief. From fury. From losing.
She snatched her coat from the floor.
“You’ll regret this,” she hissed. “You’ll see. She’ll ruin you. She’ll ruin everything.”
Christian didn’t reply.
Ashley stormed past him, out the door, heels echoing down the driveway.
The front door slammed.
Silence fell again.
Victoria stood frozen near the hallway, face pale.
Christian turned to her slowly.
“It wasn’t me,” she said quickly. “I swear, Christian. I never—”
He held up a hand.
His voice was quiet. Exhausted. Final.
“Get out of my sight.”
Victoria’s mouth opened, then closed.
She backed away, disappearing down the hall without another word.
Christian stood alone in the living room.
He looked down at his empty hands, still feeling the weight of his daughter, still feeling the echo of Melody’s voice in the car.
Then he walked upstairs.
To the nursery.
×××××××
Christian pushed open the nursery door without knocking. The soft sunlight bathed the room in pale gold. Melody sat in the rocking chair, Symphony asleep in her arms, tiny chest rising and falling against her mother’s heartbeat. The plush lamb was tucked under the baby’s chin, silver bell silent.
Melody looked up.
Christian stood in the doorway, shoulders rigid, hands clenched at his sides.
His voice came out low, controlled, but trembling with something dangerous underneath.
“Put her in the crib.”
Melody’s arms tightened instinctively.
“She’s finally asleep. Let her stay—”
“Melody.” His tone sharpened. “Put her down. Now.”
Slowly, carefully, she rose and laid Symphony in the crib. She tucked the blanket around her, brushed a curl from her forehead, and pressed one last kiss to her temple.
“I love you,” she whispered. “Mama's here.”
She straightened, turned to face Christian.
He stepped fully into the room now, closing the door behind him with a soft, final click.
“You need to leave too,” he said.
Melody’s breath caught. “What?”
“I don’t need you here,” he continued, voice flat, cold. “I don’t need Ashley either. Both of you are dangerous for her. One of you drugged her. The other… I don’t even know anymore. But I’m not letting either of you near her until I figure this out.”
Melody’s eyes widened.
“You can’t do that. She needs me. You saw how she calmed down today. You saw—”
“I saw a baby who’s been poisoned,” he cut in, voice rising. “I saw a child who’s been crying for days because someone has been putting sedatives in her milk. And right now, I don’t trust you. I don’t trust Ashley. I don’t trust anyone.”
Melody stepped forward, voice shaking but fierce. “You can’t keep her from me. I’m her mother. I didn’t do this. I would never hurt her. You know that.”
Christian’s laugh was short, bitter.
“Do I? You lied about Ashton. You lied about everything. How do I know you’re not lying now?”
Melody’s tears spilled over.
“I never lied about Ashton. I told you the truth. You didn’t believe me. You chose hate instead. And now you’re choosing it again. You’re choosing to believe the worst of me when all I’ve ever done is love her.”
Christian’s voice cracked like thunder.
“Get. Out.”
Melody flinched.
She looked at Symphony, peaceful, sleeping, unaware, and her heart shattered all over again.
“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t do this. Don’t take her from me again.”
Christian stepped closer, towering over her, voice low and frightening in its calm.
“I said leave.”
Melody’s shoulders shook.
She looked at him searching for anything left of the man who had once smiled at her in secret.
She found nothing.
She turned, walked to the door but paused with her hand on the knob.
“I’ll come back,” she said quietly. “For her. I’ll never stop coming back.”
Christian didn’t answer.
Melody opened the door and walked out.
The door closed behind her with a soft, final sound.
Christian stood alone in the nursery.
He stared at the crib, at his sleeping daughter, at the plush lamb still clutched in her hand.
Then he sank into the rocking chair, head in his hands.
The silence in the room was deafening.
And somewhere down the hall, Melody walked out of the mansion.
She would come back.
For Symphony.
×××××××