IRENE'S POV (CONTD.)
"I'm not sure, sir. We haven't met before."
He stared at me for a moment, squinting as if trying to read between my words, then finally sat down.
"So… five years of experience as a nanny. Profile says you're twenty-six."
I watched him scroll through his phone. I figured he was looking at my details on the agency's platform.
"Yes, sir," I replied calmly. "My last job lasted for three years, but the family relocated, so I had to leave."
He placed the phone on a small round table beside him, and this time, his full attention was on me.
"You came highly recommended by the agency," he said, folding his arms. "But I'm not the final decision-maker here. That's entirely up to my daughter."
"Just give her the job already."
The tiny voice came from upstairs, and before I could even register it, I saw her. A little girl, around Sophia's age, descended the staircase like she owned every step. She joined us in the living room with the kind of confidence that only a well-loved child could carry.
Her brown eyes, just like her father's, landed on me with a curious, almost calculating look.
"You sure, Lily?" he asked her softly.
So her name is Lily.
"Yes, Dad. It's not like I have much of a choice. If I say no, you'll just keep bringing more people. Let's stick to this one."
She gave me a head-to-toe scan that felt far too grown for someone her age.
"Plus, she's pretty," she added, tilting her head. "What's your name?"
"Irene."
"Right. Irene, here's the deal: I've got a list of dos and don'ts. Follow them, and we'll be fine. Don't, and you might as well consider yourself jobless. Because honestly? I don't need a nanny."
She rolled her eyes and turned dramatically. Oh, Lord. This girl was going to be a handful.
But strangely, I liked her already.
I hadn't realized I was smiling until she paused halfway up the stairs and called back over her shoulder.
"What's funny? Do I have glitter in my teeth?"
"No," I chuckled. "I just think you're funny. Maybe a little dramatic, too."
She waved a hand like royalty. "Hire her already, Dad. I like her. I'll be in my room. Call me if you need anything, and don't forget to knock!"
I couldn't help it, I laughed, and to my surprise, so did her father.
"I'm sorry you had to witness that," he said, still smiling. "My daughter is... a lot. But she's sweet. You're hired. You'll start next week on Monday. You already know the time."
He paused, voice lowering.
"She means the world to me. Please handle with care."
I nodded, not just out of obligation, but because I understood. I knew what it felt like to have your heart living outside your body.
"I'll see you on Monday. One of the staff will walk you out."
****************
I flagged down a taxi and gave the driver Erica's shop address. She was more than a friend. She was my best friend. We'd been through everything together: madness, heartbreak, hustle. A sweet soul with a wild tongue.
The second I stepped into her shop, she squealed and ran toward me with open arms.
"My ribs, Erica! I can't breathe," I teased as she squeezed me like a stuffed bear.
"Oh, please," she said, rolling her eyes and swatting my arm when she realized I was messing with her.
I walked deeper into the store, eyes scanning her latest collection. Clean lines, bold colors, luxury outfits, and unique designs. My face lit up with pride. Erica was a creative beast. She could design for royalty with one hand tied behind her back.
"So, how's my girl been… Sugar?" she said, dragging out the name with a knowing grin.
Only Erica and Mummy T knew about that side of me.
"Come on," she added, grabbing my hand. "Office. Now."
Once inside, she closed the door and flopped onto her swivel chair.
"First things first. How's my goddaughter?"
"She's okay. The new meds are helping. Expensive, but they work. I just want to get that surgery over with. It's killing me slowly."
My smile faded, and so did my voice. This was the part I never liked talking about.
Erica reached for my hand across the table.
"Don't do that to yourself, Irene. Don't carry this guilt alone."
But it wasn't just guilt; it was grief, disappointment, and rage all rolled into one.
Ever since Sophia was diagnosed with a hole in her heart, my world had never been the same. Erica sold most of her things to help. I sold mine too. Everything, all for the surgery.
But then she took the money. The woman I once called Mum. She stole it all and disappeared. I hadn't heard from her since.
Not that I wanted to.
"Maybe… if I hadn't left the card where she could find it…"
Tears rolled down before I could stop them. No matter how many times I tried to bury the pain, it always found a way back to the surface.
"Shhh," Erica whispered, pulling me into a soft hug. "She was a gambler, Irene. A selfish, broken woman who doesn't deserve to be a mum. There was nothing you could've done."
I wiped my tears, trying to breathe again.
"Let's talk about something else," she offered gently. "How was the interview? I'm sure you killed it. Who wouldn't hire the gorgeous Sugar? Five years' experience and legs for days?"
She struck a ridiculous pose, dusting invisible lint off her shoulder like a diva. I laughed, grateful for her silliness.
But something caught my eye.
On the TV mounted in her office, a face flashed across the screen. Familiar and striking. My heart skipped.
Erica followed my gaze and squealed again.
"I know, right? He's my screen crush. Every woman in New York is obsessed. Hell, half the country is! That man is a walking fantasy, a top A-list actor, charming, sexy as sin. Look at his limbs, his face, and his lips." She fanned her face dramatically. "I just wanna rip that shirt off and see what he's hiding underneath."
I barely heard her. My focus stayed locked on the screen.
That face, and the smile, can it be his doppelganger?
Mr. Bright?
No… it couldn't be.
Could it?
"What's his name?" I asked, eyes still glued to the screen.
Erica grinned like she was about to reveal the secret to life itself.
"Bright O'wen."