As Emilia led her triplets down the hallway, the sound of soft, hurried footsteps echoed from behind. Her senses went on high alert. She spun around to see Madame Dolores standing in the doorway, her hands clutching a folded apron.

“Oh, dear!” Dolores exclaimed, her face painted with a mix of shock and concern. “What happened here? I heard the commotion and rushed over. Are the children alright?”

Emilia narrowed her eyes, her grip tightening on her children’s hands. There was something off about the housekeeper’s tone—too eager, too sweet.

“They’re fine,” Emilia said tersely, stepping protectively in front of her triplets. “Why are you here, Dolores? I thought you’d...