The night was still, but the sound coming from the baby monitor was anything but. Alexander clutched the small device, his knuckles white, as he watched the grainy image on the screen. It was past two in the morning, and his three daughters were crying again. They had been crying for hours, their little faces red and puffy from exhaustion.
The doctors had told him it was just a phase. But something inside him, that same instinct that had made him one of Copenhagen’s most respected businessmen, was screaming that he was wrong. So he had hidden behind the slightly open door to the nursery, waiting, watching, determined to find out what really happened when he wasn’t there. Just then, Victoria entered the room, her phone in her hand, the glow of the screen illuminating her impatient face.
She didn’t go to the cribs to soothe the babies. She didn’t lift them gently or sing to them. Instead, she moved them around with stiff, rough movements, as if they were dolls that were in her way. When little Clara reached out her tiny arms for comfort, Victoria didn’t even look at her.
She just grabbed a bottle from the sterilizer, tested it on her hand, and shoved it into Louise’s mouth with little care. “Now, that’s enough,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “Don’t you ever get tired? ”
Alexander felt his stomach turn.
He bit his lip hard to stop himself from bursting through the door. He wanted to scream at her, to grab her, to pull her away from his children. But he forced himself to stay. He had learned, through years of business deals, to act on evidence, not impulses.
He had to be sure. And then he saw it. Victoria looked at her phone, smiled at some message, and sent a reply. She walked past the crying babies with a low laugh.
“Damn kids,” she mumbled. “I hope you go to sleep soon so I can get some peace. ”
Alexander closed his eyes, his chest tightening. He had seen enough.
He waited until Victoria left the room, finally leaving the girls to cry alone, before he slipped inside. He scooped up the baby, who was closest to him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Forgive me, my princess.
”
His mind raced. How long had this been going on? How many nights had his daughters cried without being properly comforted because he had been blind? He had hired Victoria out of desperation, lost and grieving in the wake of his wife Regitze’s death.
She had come with impeccable references. She had seemed so kind, so patient, so warm. He had been so desperate for his daughters to have a mother figure, that he had missed the signs. He placed his hand on the edge of the crib, steadying himself.
This was a failure of the highest order, and he had no one to blame but himself. He spent the next few hours thinking, walking the quiet hallways of the villa. He remembered Regitze’s last words, weak but clear: “Take care of them, my darling. Take care of them the way I would have.
” He felt like he was drowning. How could he take care of them when he could barely get out of bed in the morning, when every breath still felt like a betrayal of the woman he loved? He had to confide in someone. When the sun finally rose over the villa’s rose-covered walls, he knew he couldn’t hold this in any longer.
The next day, he found himself sitting in a quiet café, a coffee going cold in front of him. He ran his hands over his tired face. He needed air, he needed a moment to think. He didn’t notice the waitress until she stopped at his table.
“Are you okay? ” she asked softly. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week. ”
Alexander looked up.
The woman had kind eyes, a gentle, knowing smile. There was a warmth to her voice and way she carried herself, a quiet resilience that was impossible to ignore. Her name was Victoria, and she seemed like a stroll through a garden. But he couldn’t presume.
“Did you order anything else, or can I get you something to calm your stomach? ” she asked, nodding to his untouched coffee. He ran his fingers over his temple. “I guess I’m just tired,” he said.
“I have three daughters, triplets. They don’t sleep well, and I have a hard time getting them to stop crying. ”
She didn’t offer empty sympathy. Instead, she smiled with a small, understanding nod.
“You came at the right time. There was a period when I felt like I had no one. I know what it’s like to be exhausted and feel like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. In a moment like this, sometimes the only thing you can do is keep going for them and hope they don’t give up on you.
”
“Thank you,” he said, his voice rough. “That actually means a lot. ”
He didn’t tell her his full name, just that he was a father looking for help. But the moment she looked at him, something inside him eased, just slightly.
Victoria listened as he told her about his girls, about Regitze. By the time he stood up to leave, he felt a little lighter, as if a small weight had been lifted. Over the next few weeks, that Victoria became a fixture in his life. She was kind to his daughters, always gentle, always patient.
She seemed like a natural fit. “You are very good with them,” he told her one evening. She gave him a soft, mysterious smile. “I’ve had a lot of practice.
They are wonderful, bright girls, just like their father. ”
He found himself seeking her out when he needed a moment of rest. He would watch the way she played with the girls, the way they laughed at her silly faces. And it was enough to make him feel like a man again, like he was finding his feet after the biggest storm of his life.
It was a familiar and dangerous comfort but he was too exhausted to resist it. A few months later, when his mother offered to take his daughters for the weekend, he felt guilty accepting the offer, but he truly needed to rest. Victoria insisted on staying. “I can cook you dinner,” she offered.
“You deserve a break. ”
He agreed, expecting nothing more than a simple meal. They shared a bottle of wine that evening, talking and laughing in a way he hadn’t done in a long time. She reached out and placed her hand on his.
“I miss you when you’re not around,” she said softly. The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. He should have pulled away. He knew he should have.
But the loneliness was a physical ache in his chest, and looking at her, he felt a sliver of something he hadn’t felt in over a year. He was still stupid. Stupid with grief and need. He took her hand in his.
“Alexander,” she whispered, leaning closer. A few weeks later, his mother asked about the woman who seemed so comfortable in his home, who Alexander told her was his new nanny. That was the moment he realized his relationship with the waitress had changed. She wasn’t just Victoria.
She was Victoria, the mother of his children, the woman who stood by her soul. “Are you sure you want her to be your mother? ” his mother asked, eyeing him with a knowing look. “She is good with them, Mother.
She is sweet and caring, just like Regitze was,” he said, not meeting her eyes. The word “like” stung when he said it. But he couldn’t imagine his life without her now. The first time he truly questioned his decision was a night when he came home late to find Victoria sitting on the bathroom floor, her cheeks wet with tears.
Her ragged breathing was a cloud of condensation in the dim light. She was holding a photograph, her hands shaking. He sat down next to her and wrapped his arms around her. “I can’t do this,” she whispered.
“This is too much. The pressure, the constant noise. I am not strong enough to take care of them, I’m not ready. ”
He held her tighter.
“You are not alone. I am here. We’ll get through this together. You’re not their mother, you know, you are their stepmother.
It’s okay. You don’t have to replace her. You just have to be there for them. ”
She finally relaxed against him, sobbing into his chest.
“You are so good to me,” she said. “You’re a good man, Alexander. ”
That night changed something small between them, but neither of them noticed it at first. But they couldn’t stop it either.
Alexander’s mother had watched the woman’s hands, her glaring eyes, and her mother’s instinct told her not to trust her. She was suspicious, always said, “And you trust her? You trust her alone with the girls? ” He dismissed her concerns, thinking she was just being an overprotective grandmother.
He was now blinded by his love for Victoria, his guilt for not seeing the cracks sooner. Six months later, marriage seemed inevitable. It wasn’t until he returned home early from his mother’s house that he caught Victoria yelling at one of the triplets, her face red and ugly with rage. “Shut up!
I said shut up! ” She didn’t see him at first. Alexander stood frozen in the doorway, his keys still in his hand. The three girls were cowering in their cribs.
Victoria shoved them, and without saying a word, she turned back to her phone. “I’m home,” he said, his voice flat. A look of pure horror passed over her face, and she forced a sugary smile. “Darling!
I didn’t hear you come in. I hope you’re hungry. I made your favorite. ” She spoke sweetly, as if he hadn’t just seen her terrorizing his children.
“I’m tired,” he told her. “I’m going to sleep. ” He didn’t scream at her, didn’t confront her. He just walked upstairs and locked the door.
He stared at the wall for hours, feeling the pieces of his life crumbling around him. When he woke up the next morning, Victoria was humming cheerfully in the kitchen, the picture of a perfect wife. She had made breakfast and was feeding the girls, and they looked happy—clean and fed. “Did you sleep well, my love?
” she asked. “Better,” he lied. He didn’t know what to do. He was afraid of her reaction, or maybe he was afraid of his own.
The power she held over his children was so absolute that even the idea of crossing her frightened him. He couldn’t leave the house without thinking about what might happen if he did. So he hoped everything would be fine—that the kisses would come back, that things would get better. He started coming home late.
Lying about business dinners, staying at the office until it was time for the girls to go to bed. He began to feel lonely in his own home. Victoria, for her part, was colder than ever. She stopped smiling at him, stopped pretending in private.
She had moved him out of the master bedroom, claiming she needed her space. Then, everything fell apart. He came home early to find Victoria sitting at the dining table, a pile of documents spread out in front of her. She looked up at him with an expression he couldn’t read.
“There you are,” she said, pushing the papers across the table. “I have some news. ”
“What’s all this? ” he asked, glancing at the papers.
“I’m pregnant,” she said flatly. “I’m carrying your child, Alexander. And you are going to make me a very rich woman. ”
For a moment, his mind was a complete blank.
“What did you say? ”
“You heard me. ” She smiled slowly. “I have a copy of your will, darling.
You have everything set up so that if you or your wife were to pass, the money goes to your daughters. But now, with a new child on the way, you’ll have to change it, of course. Add me as a full beneficiary, just to be safe. ”
“Are you blackmailing me?
” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. “I’m just being practical,” she said, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. “You wouldn’t want anything to happen to those precious girls, would you? I know how stressful it can be, being a single father.
You never know what could go wrong. ”
Alexander stared at her, his blood running cold. This whole time, he had been too blinded by his own loneliness to see her for who she really was. “Get out,” he said.
“Excuse me? ”
“I said, get out of my house. ”
“You can’t throw me out. I’m pregnant with your child.
”
“I don’t care if you’re carrying the next king of Denmark. Get out of my house, Victoria. Now. ”
She opened her mouth to argue, but something in his eyes must have frightened her.
She grabbed her purse, slamming the door on her way out. Alexander collapsed into the nearest chair and buried his hands in his face. He was done being a fool. The next weeks were a blur.
He hired a lawyer, filed for divorce, and took out a restraining order. He also filed a formal report regarding the welfare of the children. “I want a full investigation into his nanny,” he told the police officer, watching Victoria get handcuffed by the police. She was screaming insults at him, spitting with rage.
“You’ll never see them again! You don’t know who you’re messing with, you bastard! ”
He turned his back, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never done anything this difficult in his life.
Weeks passed. The house felt smaller now, the silence louder, without Victoria’s presence hanging over them. But slowly, he was learning to breathe again. He spent every waking hour with his daughters.
He learned how to put their hair up, how to wash their little faces, how to rock them to sleep. He learned to read the different cries, to know when they were hungry, when they were tired, when they just wanted their dad. One day, he came home from a long walk with them to find a letter waiting for him on the kitchen table. He recognized the neatly folded paper, the familiar handwriting of his late wife.
He had completely forgotten he had hidden it. With trembling hands, he opened it. There was a photo inside of his pregnant wife, smiling, holding a ultrasound print. She was sitting in the garden, his unborn daughters resting in a small basket nearby.
An axiom was scrawled on the back in her rounded letters: “Darling, times are hard, but the good times are near. I love you. Don’t ever forget that. ” He traced the words and felt the tears he had been holding back finally fall.
“A rose from your ashes, my love,” he whispered to the photograph. “I’ll take care of them. I promise. ”
Standing in the garden, he looked at the small bunch of roses she had planted, their pale petals blushing pink in the warm light.
He was a widower. Maybe he always would be. But he wasn’t broken anymore. He was a father.
And that was more than enough. Deep in the silent night, he heard a faint cry, then another, and a third. He smiled. He carefully made his way to the nursery, able to calm them before their crying could wake the whole house.
Pushing the door open, he was surprised to find his daughters awake, looking up at him with their big, bright eyes. “Hey, princesses,” he murmured, scooping Solvej into his arms. Clara and Louise reached up for him, and he gathered them all against his chest. “Daddy’s here.
”
He sat in the big, soft armchair by the window, the three of them nestled against him. In the garden, the wind blew through the rosebushes, sending a few pink petals drifting past the window like a silent blessing. The night was quiet at last.
And for the first time in a long while, Alexander felt at peace.