The Livestream That Exposed Two Cribs

"Welcome back to Friday Favorites," I said to the glowing ring light.

"Tonight, we are talking newborn essentials."

I picked up the frosted glass bottle from the desk.

"And here is the lifesaver. The venting system on this one completely changed our nights."

Noah shifted in his crib just out of frame, letting out a soft sigh.

"See this valve?" I asked the chat, pointing to the blue plastic insert. "It stops the air bubbles from mixing with the milk."

"Link please! Need this for my two-month-old," I read aloud from the scrolling text on my screen.

"The link is pinned at the bottom of the screen, Jessica," I answered.

"My baby uses the exact same one," another user wrote. "It's magic."

"It really is magic," I agreed. "I wouldn't survive the 3 A.M. feedings without it."

The heavy oak front door groaned open.

"Kai must be home," I whispered to the camera with a wink.

"He wasn't supposed to be back from Chicago until Sunday. We love a surprise."

I reached into the PR box resting by my feet.

"Moving on to product number three," I said, pulling out a silicone teething ring.

"This teether is freezer safe," I explained. "Noah loves the cold pressure on his gums."

"Wait, look behind you," I read under my breath.

More comments flooded the feed. The steady stream of mom-talk vanished.

"Ella, turn around!"

"Who is that woman?"

My jaw clamped shut. Trolls always found a way into the Friday evening streams.

"You can freeze these for up to two hours," I continued, ignoring the chaos.

"Seriously, look in the mirror," a user named MamaBear99 typed.

"Is that your husband?" another asked.

"Who is the girl in the trench coat?"

I didn't turn my head. The decorative mirror hung flat against the wall directly behind me.

It perfectly reflected the entryway.

I shifted my focus to the small preview monitor on my laptop.

A pinned comment shot to the top of the chat.

"Look at the mirror," the moderator highlighted. "Kai is standing with a woman in a beige coat."

"She’s holding a St. Jude Maternity bag!"

My fingers went numb around the teething ring.

St. Jude Maternity. The ultra-exclusive birthing center on the north side of the city.

I delivered Noah at Memorial General.

I had never set foot inside St. Jude.

My eyes locked onto the pixels of my own background.

There he was. Kai.

He still wore his navy travel suit.

Beside him stood a slender woman in a beige trench coat.

She placed a glossy white gift bag onto our entryway console.

The gold embossed crest on the bag was unmistakable.

"Mommy brain is hitting me hard today," I laughed loudly to the camera.

"Let me just grab the next item."

I slid my left hand under the desk.

My thumb found the edge of my secondary phone.

I swiped down, tapped the screen record icon, and waited for the red dot.

Everything happening on the main monitor was now saving directly to my local drive.

"Noah is starting to stir," I lied into the microphone.

"Don't log off! Look back!" the chat screamed.

"Call the cops!"

"Whose baby is that bag for?!"

"Thank you all for tuning in tonight," I said.

"I'll post the rest of the links on my story. Have a great weekend!"

I slammed the spacebar.

The stream cut to black.

The silence in the living room was instant.

*Ping.*

My phone vibrated against the desk.

*Ping. Ping. Ping.*

Thirty-seven direct messages flooded my notifications in seconds.

I opened the first one.

A high-resolution screenshot of my stream, zoomed in on the mirror.

Kai’s hand rested on the small of the woman’s back.

The St. Jude Maternity logo glared under our foyer chandelier.

"Put it down gently," Kai whispered from the hallway.

His voice carried easily over the hardwood floors.

"I don't want to wake the baby," the woman murmured.

"She's still streaming," Kai replied. "We have a few minutes."

"Are you sure she can't hear us?" the woman asked.

"Positive," Kai said. "She focuses entirely on the screen. She never looks back."

I sat frozen in my ergonomic chair.

They thought I was still live.

They thought I was trapped in my little glowing bubble.

"Did you bring the formula?" Kai asked.

"In the bag," the woman answered. "The special hypoallergenic one the doctor prescribed."

My stomach turned violently.

Noah didn't drink hypoallergenic formula. He was exclusively breastfed.

"Good," Kai said. "Leave it on the console."

"I'll hide it in the garage before she finishes up," he added.

"He needs his bottles sterilized, Kai," the woman said, her voice strained.

"I'll handle it tonight," Kai assured her. "Just go back to the car."

I gripped the edge of the desk until my knuckles turned white.

*Hide it.*

I needed to see exactly what was in that bag before he moved it.