Chapter 2 - THE HOUSEKEEPER’S SECRET
"Get out," I ordered the night nurse, pointing a finger toward the door.
The woman scrambled out of her chair, grabbing her purse, and bolted from the nursery without uttering another word, terrified of losing her job—or worse, facing my wrath.
The heavy oak door clicked shut, leaving just the three of us inside the quiet room. The rhythmic beep of the heart monitor was the only sound cutting through the tension.
I pulled a leather armchair close to the rocking chair where Hannah sat cradling my son. I sat down, resting my elbows on my knees, staring at her with a heavy, unreadable gaze.
"How long have you worked for my estate, Hannah?" I asked, my voice much quieter now, though the command in it remained absolute.
"Three weeks, Mr. Rossi," she whispered, gently stroking Leo’s soft brown hair. The baby had drifted into a peaceful, milk-drunk sleep, his tiny fists relaxed for the first time since he was born. "Augusto hired me through the agency. I needed the work after... after everything happened."
"You lost your baby," I stated flatly. It wasn't a question; it was an acknowledgment of a shared, bleeding wound.
Hannah nodded slowly, a fresh tear carving a clean path through the dust on her cheek. "A little girl. We were going to name her Lily. We never even got to bring her home from the hospital."
I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the jagged scar tissue left over from the car bomb explosion that had taken Sophia. I knew what it felt like to have your entire world hollowed out overnight. I knew the hollow, suffocating emptiness that came with walking through a mansion filled with ghosts.
"Dr. Halloran told me yesterday that Leo wouldn't survive another forty-eight hours," I said, looking down at my sleeping son. "Every specialist in the country said his digestive system was rejecting formula and donor banks. They claimed he had an autoimmune intolerance."
"He doesn't have an intolerance," Hannah said softly, looking up to meet my eyes. "He just had a broken heart. He could feel that his mother was gone. Formula is cold, Mr. Rossi. A baby that small needs warmth. He needed a heartbeat."
Her words hit me like a physical blow. A heartbeat.
Sophia had possessed the warmest heart in the world. When she died, the warmth of our home died with her, plunging Leo and me into a frozen wasteland.
"You saved his life tonight, Hannah," I said, the words heavy and difficult to force past my throat. "In my world, people who save my family are rewarded beyond imagination. But people who break into my nursery without permission usually don't live to see sunrise."
Hannah swallowed hard, bracing herself. "Are you going to fire me? Are you going to have me thrown out?"
I stood up, walking over to the window that looked out over the dark, roaring Atlantic Ocean. The moon cast a silver streak across the water.
"No," I said, turning back to face her. "You are not getting fired. Starting tomorrow, your position as a housekeeper is terminated."
Hannah’s face paled, her lips trembling. "Mr. Rossi, please—"
"Listen to me," I interrupted, my tone cutting off any further panic. "You are no longer a housekeeper. You are Leo's wet nurse and live-in guardian. You will move into the master guest suite down the hall. Your salary will be multiplied by ten. You will have a security detail assigned to you twenty-four hours a day, and you will never, ever have to worry about rent, bills, or safety again."
Hannah stared at me in stunned disbelief, holding my son tightly against her chest. "Mr. Rossi... I can't accept that. I'm just a maid. I broke your rules."
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"Rules in this house are写的 by me," I said coldly. "And right now, the only rule that matters is that my son stays alive. Do we understand each other, Hannah?"
She looked down at Leo, who let out a soft, contented sigh in his sleep, and slowly nodded. "Yes, Mr. Rossi. We understand each other."
