Chapter 1

My finger slipped, and I accidentally sent a photo of high-end diamond jewelry to our nanny.

She assumed the expensive set was a gift from my husband.

From that day on, she clung to him constantly.

She brewed special wellness tonics just for him, dressed in skimpy outfits, and served late-night vitality broths right to our bedroom.

When I told her to stop giving him special treatment, she became defensive.

"Mr. Cole works so hard every day. He needs all the nourishment he can get!"

At first, I did not think much of it.

Then I disciplined my son for failing his test, and he ran straight into her arms in tears.

"I do not want you as my mom! I want Chloe to be my mommy!"

It turned out our nanny had set her sights on both my husband and my son.

Fine by me. Let us see how long she can handle serving those two spoiled brats.

1.

My finger slipped, and I sent a photo of the luxury jewelry I had just bought to our nanny.

Even though I recalled it quickly, she had already seen it.

"Wow, such stunning jewelry! Mr. Cole must have bought that for you, ma'am!"

Chloe sent me a quick text.

A few moments later, another message popped up.

"Ma'am, I have been working here for a while, but I only have your contact info. Could you share Mr. Cole's number too? It would make communication much easier."

I thought about it. I traveled frequently for business, so having his contact could help if an emergency popped up while I was away.

So, I sent David's number to her.

Right after I sent it, Chloe changed her profile picture to a heavily filtered selfie.

Looking at the oddly retouched photo, I smirked slightly.

Whatever. It was none of my business what picture she chose to use.

A little later, I heard footsteps outside the study.

Thinking my husband had come out, I stepped into the hallway.

David was pouring a glass of water, so I casually mentioned, "I just sent your contact info to the nanny. Did you two connect?"

He put down his glass. "Yeah, she asked if I had time to stop by her room. She wants to talk about Chase's behavioral issues."

I felt confused. If she wanted to discuss our son's behavior, why ask my husband instead of me?

"How about I go instead? You should get some rest."

David waved his hand dismissively. "Forget it. You probably still have work to finish. She probably reached out to me because you are always too busy to pay attention to Chase. Let me see what she has to say first, and I will let you know."

His explanation seemed reasonable enough, yet something still felt off.

Why did a discussion about our child have to take place in the nanny's private bedroom?

What could she possibly say that I was not allowed to hear, and why couldn't they just talk in the living room?