The morning sun cast long shadows over the Reed mansion, golden light streaming in through the tall windows like it was trying to soften the cold inside.
Emma Carter stepped into the nursery and was immediately greeted by a familiar squeal.
Emma (smiling): "Good morning, Miss Emily. Did you miss me?"
Emily Reed was standing in her crib, bouncing up and down in excitement, her tiny fists gripping the railing like she'd been waiting for hours.
Emma scooped her up and twirled her gently in her arms, earning a delighted giggle.
Emma (whispering as she kissed her cheek): "Let's go get you ready before Mr. Serious starts checking his watch."
Emma dressed Emily in a pale pink sweater and soft leggings, tying a little ribbon in her wispy hair before carrying her downstairs. She had learned, very quickly, that Alexander Reed was always on time—and he expected the same from everyone else.
Sure enough, he was already at the breakfast table when she arrived, coffee in hand, his tablet open and angled away from them. His black suit was flawless, his tie perfectly knotted, his expression unreadable as ever.
He looked up as they entered.
Alexander (briefly): "She's in a good mood."
Emma (smiling as she set Emily in her high chair): "She had good dreams, I think."
Alexander: "I doubt she remembers them."
Emma (teasing lightly): "Just because you don't remember yours doesn't mean she can't."
That earned her a long glance from him—cool, assessing, but not unkind.
Alexander: "I don't dream."
Emma (softly): "Maybe you stopped letting yourself."
The silence that followed was brief, but heavy. Emma didn't push further.
Instead, she focused on cutting Emily's strawberries into tiny pieces and placed them on her tray. The baby wasted no time smashing them between her fingers before shoving them happily into her mouth.
Alexander cleared his throat.
Alexander: "I have meetings all morning. You'll be responsible for keeping her occupied until noon."
Emma (nodding): "Of course. I was thinking of taking her to the library. She seemed curious about the bookshelves yesterday."
He hesitated.
Alexander: "Don't let her chew the spines. Some of them are first editions."
Emma (grinning): "Noted. No antique snacks."
For a second—just a blink—something passed across Alexander's face. Something almost like amusement. But it vanished just as quickly.
He stood, adjusted his cufflinks, and glanced at his watch.
Alexander: "Mrs. Hopkins will bring lunch to the playroom. I'll join if time allows."
Emma (politely): "Thank you, Mr. Reed."
He paused at the door.
Alexander (without turning): "And, Miss Carter… don't forget that you're here to take care of my daughter. Not me."
Emma blinked, caught off guard.
Emma (softly): "I know that."
He left without another word.
But for the rest of the morning, his words echoed in her head.
---
The library was one of the few places in the mansion that felt warm—not in temperature, but in soul. The tall shelves, the smell of leather and paper, the deep green armchairs... it reminded Emma of the old public library she used to visit as a child.
She sat cross-legged on the rug with Emily in her lap, holding up picture books and narrating in different voices.
Emma (pointing): "See this? That's a bunny. Just like your toy at bedtime."
Emily babbled something that sounded like "bun," and Emma's heart melted.
Emma: "You're a genius. Harvard, here we come."
A soft laugh came from the doorway.
Emma turned sharply, her cheeks flushing.
Mrs. Hopkins, the housekeeper, stepped in holding a tray of snacks and a warm bottle.
Mrs. Hopkins (smiling): "You're good with her."
Emma (gratefully): "Thank you. She makes it easy."
The older woman set the tray on the low table and adjusted a pillow on the armchair nearby.
Mrs. Hopkins: "It's been quiet here for too long. Emily's laughter is a welcome sound."
Emma's smile faltered.
Emma (hesitantly): "What was it like... before?"
Mrs. Hopkins looked around the room before sitting on the edge of the window seat.
Mrs. Hopkins (quietly): "This house was once filled with joy. Alexander was different then. Warmer. More human, if I may say."
Emma didn't interrupt.
Mrs. Hopkins: "But after his wife passed, it all changed. He poured himself into the company. Buried everything else. Including his grief."
Emma: "He never talks about her."
Mrs. Hopkins: "He never talks about anything that matters."
Emma held Emily a little tighter.
Emma: "That can't be good for Emily. Or for him."
Mrs. Hopkins gave her a long look.
Mrs. Hopkins: "Be careful, dear. He's not a cruel man, but he guards his heart like a fortress. And people who try to scale those walls... they often get hurt."
Emma swallowed, nodding slowly.
She wasn't here to fall for her boss.
She was here to do her job.
Right?
---
That evening, after Emily had been bathed and put to bed, Emma made her way to the kitchen for a late cup of tea. She didn't expect anyone else to be there.
But there he was.
Alexander Reed, standing by the kitchen island, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, pouring himself a glass of scotch.
He looked... tired. Not in the physical sense. In the way a man looked when he carried too many things alone.
Emma froze in the doorway.
Emma (softly): "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."
He looked over, blinking like he hadn't realized someone was there.
Alexander: "It's your house now too. At least temporarily."
Emma (stepping in): "Not really. Just the nursery and the playroom."
Alexander: "You're allowed to have tea. I won't report you."
That earned a small smile from her. She moved toward the stove and filled the kettle, feeling the quiet stretch between them.
Emma (curiously): "Do you always work this late?"
Alexander (dryly): "Do you always ask this many questions?"
She tilted her head.
Emma: "Only when I think someone needs to be asked."
He didn't answer.
She watched as he took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes fixed on the countertop like it held secrets he couldn't crack.
Emma (softly): "You're a good father, you know."
That got his attention.
Alexander (flatly): "I pay for her care. That doesn't make me good."
Emma (firmly): "No. But you show up. You hold her. You remember her nap times. You try. That counts."
His jaw tightened. He set his glass down too hard, the sound sharp against the marble.
Alexander (quiet, cold): "Trying didn't save my wife."
Emma's breath caught.
Emma (gently): "Trying isn't always about saving. Sometimes... it's just about staying."
Their eyes met. For a long moment, the air between them buzzed with something unspoken. Pain. Tension. Maybe even something dangerously close to longing.
But then Alexander stepped back.
Alexander (quiet): "Good night, Miss Carter."
Emma (nodding): "Good night, Mr. Reed."
As she walked away, she knew one thing for sure.
There were rules in this house.
Unspoken, but very real.
And she had just gotten dangerously close to breaking one of them.