“Are you deaf? Turn around and take that scarf off!” Chloe demanded, stepping closer.
I gritted my teeth, turning on my heel with both babies snug against my chest, every step measured. I couldn’t let her see it...
The surgeons had fixed my face, but the fire had burned deeper than any graft could reach.
From my collarbone to my left ear ran a thin, silvery scar the doctor called “permanent.”
Makeup hid most of it. Not all.
Hugging the babies closer, I retreated a step. “Sorry, ma’am. A skin condition. The doctor said that if my skin comes into contact with dust or light in the air, it could flare up without warning, so I have to keep it covered at all times.”
Chloe’s eyes narrowed.
“I don’t give a damn. Take it off right now.”
Gregory groaned from the couch.
“Chloe, for God’s sake. She’s the first nanny who can actually do the job. Let her keep the damn scarf.”
I tightened my hold on the babies as Chloe closed in, holding perfectly still.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gregory stand up.
“I don’t like secrets in my house,” Chloe hissed.
She lunged forward, her fingers snaking toward the scarf.
I twisted on my heel at the last second, letting just a sliver of pale, rippled skin flash beneath the silk before snapping it back into place.
Chloe saw it.
Her face drained of color.
Gregory stepped forward.
“Babe, let it go. She’s just the help.”
Chloe swallowed and backed away with a nervous laugh.
“Fine. Keep your ugly neck. But I’m watching you.”
My heart thudded, but I drew a calm breath and climbed the stairs, letting their whispers trail behind me.
“She’s dead, baby,” Gregory murmured. “She’s gone.”
“…but her body was never found,” Chloe whispered back.
I climbed slowly, lips curving slightly. Good, fear will keep them sloppy.
“Not this crap again,” Gregory whispered. “The house burned to the ground. She was burned to ash. The cops didn’t even know she was inside.”
“But…”
“Nothing. She’s gone. She will never come back.”
My smile spread as I walked faster, until I couldn’t hear them anymore.
In the nursery, I eased my daughter into the crib, keeping Chloe’s daughter tucked against my chest, her tiny fingers curling into my dress.
“Don’t worry, little one,” I whispered. “I’m your mother now.”
I looked down at my own daughter, safe in her crib, untouched by Chloe or those monsters.
That was why I stayed here.
Not just to destroy them from the inside when they least saw it coming… but to make sure they never turned my little girl into someone like them.
I leaned down and kissed my daughter’s soft cheek.
“Mommy is here,” I muttered. “And no one will ever take you from me again.”
-Seven Years Later-
“I HATE THIS! THIS IS DISGUSTING!”
Amelia Harrington, my daughter, threw the plate of scrambled eggs on the floor. It shattered, eggs sliding across the tiles.
Two maids rushed past, dropping to their knees to gather the pieces before the mess spread further.
Chloe looked up from her phone, eyes sliding from Amelia to the mess to me.
“What are you standing there for like an idiot?” Chloe snapped. “Get her a new plate. Now.”
I didn’t move.
I just stared at Amelia, pink silk dress, chin high, seven years old and already a perfect little clone of Chloe, waiting for someone to jump at her every command.
Amelia stomped her tiny heel. “Nanny! I said it’s disgusting! Make me new eggs. Pink ones. Like yesterday.”
Yesterday I’d stood over the stove for forty minutes dyeing them with beetroot juice while Chloe yelled that I was wasting her time.
I took one slow breath.
“Yes, Miss Amelia.”
Chloe smirked without lifting her gaze from her phone. “And Evelyn? Next time my princess doesn’t like her food, you eat it off the floor yourself. Understood?”
Amelia giggled.
Something inside me twisted, sharp, hot.
At the doorway, Lily peeked in, her stuffed rabbit clutched tightly under her chin.
Her eyes flicked from the mess to Amelia’s satisfied smirk, then to me. She tiptoed forward, fingers curling around the hem of my dress. Whispering, “Mommy… why do they let her do that?”
My heart clenched. I shook my head.
Not here. Not now.
Chloe finally looked up. “What is your brat doing in my kitchen again? I said staff wing only.”
Lily’s shoulders jerked. She bolted away.
Amelia rolled her eyes dramatically. “She’s weird. And ugly. Why can’t we send her away?”
I forced a thin smile. “I’ll make new eggs, ma’am.”
Chloe waved a manicured hand as if flicking away dust. “Hurry. Gregory wants to leave in twenty minutes.”
Right on cue, Gregory appeared in the doorway, adjusting his cufflinks. His eyes slid over me the same slow, deliberate way they had every morning for six years.
“Morning, Evelyn,” he said, voice low. “You look… tired. Rough night?” His gaze dropped to my chest. Lingered. Chloe didn’t notice. She never did. I bowed my head. “Just busy with the children, sir.”
Amelia skipped toward him, arms raised. “Daddy! Carry me!”
He lifted her easily, pressing a kiss to her cheek, and then, over her shoulder, gave me that familiar smile. The one that made my skin crawl.
“Daddy’s princess deserves the world,” he murmured.
“I want a real pony for my birthday,” Amelia said. “A white one.”
“Anything,” he promised.
Chloe laughed. “Spoiled little thing.”
Turning back to the kitchen, I started a fresh batch of eggs, the sizzle of butter filling the tense silence as I focused on the pan, on breathing, on not breaking.
Then I felt it, a warm, heavy hand sliding onto my lower back.
I froze.
I didn’t need to look. I knew that touch. The man lusting after the wife he once tried to kill.
My grip tightened around the knife. My jaw locked.
I waited for him to pull away.
He didn’t.
Heat surged through me, fear, disgust, fury all at once.
Slowly, I pivoted, knife raised, the edge glinting in the morning light. The space between us seemed to hum with every ounce of hate I’d carried for seven years.