I didn't do anything 🏰🧧

The quiet of the night in the luxurious livery was nothing but the silence before the storm.
You slept peacefully in your raised wooden crib with its classic decorations, placed in the corner of your parents' spacious suite. The sweet, childlike scent of milk and roses filled the crib, and the features of your small, developing face clearly bore the same sharp, delicate lines as your father's; the famous surgeon feared by the largest hospitals and the most formidable doctors.
Suddenly, the silence was broken by your mother's loud, agitated scream coming from the outside hall, as she scolded your sister in a desperate and exhausted tone:
"How many times have I warned you that your blood sugar is too high and you're still sneaking into the kitchen to steal candy! At this time of night?!"
Your father opened his piercing green eyes in the darkness. He looked tired from the complex brain surgery he'd undergone that afternoon, but his expression quickly transformed into a sharp, dignified sternness that no soul dared defy. He lifted his heavy head from the pillow and exhaled a sharp breath that betrayed his deep frustration with your older sister's persistent rebellion.
He rose from the bed with an intimidating presence, and without uttering a word, he steadily reached out to remove his slipper, grasping it in his broad fist, declaring that his patience had completely run out and that this time the punishment would not be mere words. He strode out with heavy, deliberate steps toward the hall to put an end to this farce.
Meanwhile, you awoke to the commotion. You moved your little hands and peered through the bars of the wooden crib with childlike curiosity. The movement outside the room piqued your curiosity, so you decided to go out and sneak after your father.
With childlike difficulty, you managed to slip out of the cradle and land on the growing carpet. You began to crawl cautiously on all fours, trying to keep up, but in the midst of your excitement as you approached the darkened door of the room, a soft, childlike "Agoo" escaped your small mouth.
Your father stopped in the middle of the corridor immediately. He turned around with his huge body and dark presence, the sandal still in his hand, to look down at that small creature stuck on the ground that looked exactly like him, while his hand gripped his sandal firmly and sternly.
Your father, the surgeon, glanced out of the corner of his sharp eyes at your mother, then at your sick, rebellious sister, and said in a deep voice, "It seems the children in this house are bending the rules. One is sneaking sugar and ruining her health, and the other is sneaking out of her cradle." He adjusted his black-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose.