ReadingOnline4

Chapter 1 The nursery camera was still on. I heard him. His voice. Low. Tender. Words he'd never once said to me. "You're the only woman I need in this house." I watched the screen from the kitchen — my hands still wet from washing his daughter's bottles — and saw Dominic Hale press his lips to his fiancée's temple while she sat in MY rocking chair, in MY nursery, holding the baby I had raised for eleven months like she was hers. Like I was nothing. Like I hadn't been the one who stayed up through every fever. Every cry. Every 3 AM feeding when her biological mother was in Ibiza and her father was closing deals in Tokyo. Lily's tiny hand reached up — not toward the glamorous woman holding her — but toward the camera. Toward me. My chest cracked open. But I didn't cry. I set down the bottle, dried my hands, and picked up the envelope I'd hidden inside the flour canister three weeks ago. The job offer from the Castellano family. Rome. Live-in nanny. Immediate start. Salary that tripled what Dominic paid me. I'd been waiting for the right moment. Watching Genevieve Laurent — his perfect, polished, magazine-cover fiancée — pretend to love a baby she'd met three weeks ago while wearing a ring that cost more than my entire life? This was the moment. I pulled out my phone and typed one message to the agency: I accept. I can fly out in 48 hours. Then I slid the phone into my back pocket and walked upstairs to do what I did every night — give Lily her bath, sing her to sleep, and pretend my heart wasn't shattering. Because nannies don't get to have feelings. Nannies don't get to fall in love with the baby. And they definitely don't get to fall in love with the father. But I had. God help me, I had. Dominic Hale was everything I should have avoided. Thirty-four. Billionaire tech founder. Jawline carved from cruelty and cheekbones built for magazine covers. A single father who'd hired me when Lily was two weeks old and her mother had signed away custody for a seven-figure settlement. "She doesn't want her," he'd told me that first day, his voice hollow, Lily screaming in his arms. "I need someone who will." I'd taken the baby from him. She'd stopped crying immediately. Something crossed his face then — relief, gratitude, and something darker. Something possessive. "You start tomorrow," he'd said. I started that night. Eleven months of midnight feedings, first smiles, first words — "Mama," she'd said, reaching for me, and the look on Dominic's face had been unreadable. He never corrected her. And I never asked him to. That was my first mistake. My second mistake was believing the way he looked at me meant something. The late nights when he'd come home and find me asleep in the nursery rocker, Lily on my chest. The way he'd carry me to my room — yes, carry me — and lay me down so gently I'd pretend to stay asleep just to feel his hands linger. The morning he brushed hair from my face and whispered, "What would I do without you?" I thought I was special. Then Genevieve happened. Three weeks ago, she appeared at the penthouse door — six feet of French perfection in Chanel, a diamond on her finger, and a smile that said she'd already won. "Dominic, darling, aren't you going to introduce me to the help?" The help. Dominic hadn't corrected her. He'd just said, "Genevieve, this is Elena. She takes care of Lily." Not "Elena is family." Not "Elena is irreplaceable." Just — she takes care of Lily. Like I was the dishwasher. Functional. Forgettable. Now, standing outside the nursery door, I listened to Lily fuss in Genevieve's arms and Dominic murmur reassurances. I knocked softly. "It's bath time," I said. Genevieve looked up, irritation flashing before she masked it. "I can handle it." Lily wailed louder. "She likes the water at exactly 98 degrees," I said calmly. "And she needs her lavender wash or she won't sleep. It's in the second cabinet, left side." Genevieve stared at me like I'd spoken another language. Dominic took Lily from her and handed her to me without a word. The baby's cries stopped instantly. She buried her face in my neck, her tiny fingers gripping my shirt. Mama. I held her tighter. Forty-eight hours. I had forty-eight hours left with this child. And it was going to destroy me. Chapter 2 Genevieve declared the nursery needed "a complete redesign" the next morning. "It's too clinical," she announced over breakfast, scrolling through her phone. "I'm thinking soft pink. French provincial. Something that reflects our family aesthetic." Our family. I kept feeding Lily her oatmeal, my face neutral. Dominic sipped his espresso, eyes on his tablet. "Whatever you want." "And we should discuss the nanny situation." Genevieve's gaze slid to me. "Once we're married, I'll be Lily's mother. We won't need live-in help anymore." My spoon froze halfway to Lily's mouth. Dominic looked up. "Elena stays." "Dominic—" "She stays." His tone left no room for argument. "Lily needs consistency." Genevieve's smile tightened. "Of course, darling. I just meant we could transition to a day nanny. Give Elena her evenings back. She must have a life outside this penthouse." She said it sweetly. Reasonably. But I heard the knife underneath. Get her out of this house. Away from you. Away from the baby. "We'll discuss it later," Dominic said, returning to his tablet. Genevieve caught my eye across the table and smiled — a smile that said: I've already won. You just don't know it yet. I smiled back. Because she didn't know about Rome. And in thirty-six hours, the discussion would be irrelevant. After breakfast, I took Lily to the park. Our park. The one three blocks from the penthouse with the duck pond and the ancient oak tree where she'd taken her first steps. I sat on our bench and held her on my lap, watching her point at pigeons and babble happily. "You're going to be okay," I told her, my voice thick. "Daddy loves you. He'll find someone wonderful to take care of you." Lily looked up at me with Dominic's grey eyes and said, "Mama stay." I pressed my lips to her hair so she wouldn't see my face crumble. My phone buzzed. Dominic: Where are you? Park. Come back. I need to talk to you. My heart rate spiked. Did he know? Had the agency contacted him? I packed up Lily's things and walked home, rehearsing calm in my head with every step. When I arrived, Dominic was in his home office, jacket off, sleeves rolled to his forearms. He looked tired — the kind of tired that expensive suits couldn't hide. "Close the door," he said. I set Lily in her playpen and obeyed. "Genevieve wants to let you go," he said bluntly. "I heard." "I told her no." "I heard that too." He studied me, and for a moment the mask slipped. Underneath was something raw, something almost desperate. "Elena, I need you to understand something. You're not just staff to me. You're—" He stopped. Ran a hand through his hair. "Lily needs you." Lily needs you. Not I need you. Lily. Always Lily. "I understand," I said quietly. "Good." He straightened, the CEO mask snapping back into place. "I'm giving you a raise. And I'm putting it in writing that your position is secure regardless of any... changes in the household." Changes. Meaning his marriage. "That's very generous," I said. "It's practical. Lily's stability matters." Practical. Stability. Business terms for what should have been human words. "Is that all?" I asked. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say more. His eyes dropped to my lips for half a second — so fast I might have imagined it. But I didn't imagine it. I never imagined it. "That's all," he said. I left his office, closed the door, and leaned against the wall. Thirty-six hours. I could survive thirty-six more hours of wanting a man who would never want me back. That night, I packed while Lily slept in her crib beside my bed. She'd been sleeping in my room since she was born — Dominic's idea, back when he was too terrified of SIDS to let her sleep alone. I folded my clothes silently, tears rolling down my cheeks. Every outfit had a memory. The blue sweater I wore the first time Lily laughed. The white shirt stained with sweet potato from her first solid food. The black dress I'd worn to Dominic's company gala, where he'd pulled me onto the dance floor and held me so close I could feel his heartbeat. "You look beautiful tonight," he'd murmured. Then he'd stepped back, cleared his throat, and spent the rest of the evening across the room. I left the black dress in the closet. Some memories were too heavy to carry. At midnight, I heard footsteps outside my door. They paused. Lingered. Then retreated. I pressed my hand to the door and whispered, "Goodbye, Dominic." But the word wouldn't come out right. Because it wasn't goodbye to my employer. It was goodbye to the man I loved. And he would never, ever know. Chapter 3 My last full day started with Lily's favorite breakfast — banana pancakes shaped like stars. I memorized everything. The way she clapped when I set the plate down. The syrup on her chin. The way she said "more, more, more" with her whole body bouncing. I took a video on my phone. Then another. Then twelve more. Evidence that I existed in her life. That I mattered to someone, even if that someone was eleven months old. Genevieve appeared around ten, fresh from a blowout, wearing silk loungewear that cost more than my monthly salary. "Elena, I need you to clear your things from the main bathroom. I'm having my skincare products delivered this afternoon." My things. A toothbrush and a bottle of drugstore moisturizer. "Of course," I said. "Also, Dominic and I are hosting a dinner party Saturday. I'll need you to keep Lily upstairs and out of sight. Clients don't want to hear a baby crying." Out of sight. Like Lily was an inconvenience. Like she was something to hide. "Lily goes to bed at seven," I said carefully. "She won't be a problem." "Perfect." Genevieve examined her manicure. "Oh, and Elena? I noticed you've been spending a lot of personal time in Dominic's office. I'd appreciate it if you kept your interactions professional." The accusation landed like a slap. "I only go in when he asks me to," I said, keeping my voice level. "To discuss Lily's schedule." "Mm." She didn't believe me. "Well. Going forward, you can email him." Email. The father of the child I raised. Email him like a vendor submitting an invoice. "Understood," I said. Genevieve left, trailing Chanel No. 5 and quiet venom. I looked down at Lily, who was painting her high chair with mashed banana, completely oblivious to the war being waged around her. "You deserve so much better than this," I whispered. She offered me a banana-covered hand. I took it. Around noon, I slipped out while Lily napped and went to meet the one person in this city who knew my plan. My friend Maren worked at a café in Brooklyn. She was the only person I'd told about Rome. "You're really doing this," she said, sliding me a coffee. "Tomorrow morning. Six AM flight." "And the baby?" My throat closed. "She's not my baby, Maren." "Bullshit. You're more her mother than anyone." "Legally, I'm the help. Genevieve made that very clear." Maren leaned across the counter. "And Dominic? You're just going to vanish without telling him how you feel?" "He's engaged." "He's miserable." "That's not my problem anymore." Maren studied me for a long moment. "You're going to regret not saying something." "I'm going to regret a lot of things. But staying? That would be the biggest regret of all." She hugged me over the counter, knocking over a sugar dispenser. "Text me when you land." "Promise." Back at the penthouse, I found Dominic in the nursery. He was sitting in the rocking chair — my rocking chair — with Lily asleep on his chest. His eyes were closed, one large hand spanning her entire back. He looked peaceful. Unguarded. He looked like the man I'd fallen in love with. Not the CEO. Not the billionaire. Just a father, holding his daughter, breathing in sync with her. I must have made a sound because his eyes opened. "Hey," he said softly. "She wouldn't go down for anyone else." "She's stubborn." "She gets that from—" He stopped. Smiled faintly. "From you, probably. You've been with her more than anyone." My heart twisted. "Dominic, I need to tell you something." His eyes sharpened. "What?" The words were right there. I'm leaving. Tomorrow. I love your daughter and I love you and staying here watching you marry someone else will kill me. But Lily stirred on his chest, and Genevieve's heels clicked down the hallway, and the moment shattered like glass. "Never mind," I said. "It can wait." "Elena—" "It's nothing. Really." I backed out of the nursery before he could see my eyes. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'd be gone. Tonight, I had one last bedtime with Lily. I sang every song twice. Read every book three times. Held her until my arms ached and my tears soaked into her pajamas. "Mama loves you," I whispered against her hair. "Mama will always love you. Even from far away. Even when you forget my face." She sighed in her sleep and curled closer. I laid her in her crib and stood there watching her breathe for a long, long time. Then I placed a sealed envelope on Dominic's desk. And I went to bed for the last time in this house that was never mine.