Chapter 4: Veronica's POV

My eyes fluttered open and for a long moment, everything felt hazy, like I was waking from a dream that refused to let me go. The first thing that registered was the white walls. The white sheets beneath me. The air itself seemed to hum with a sterile calm that felt almost unreal.

It was the complete opposite of my tiny rented room back home. My walls were yellowed from age and moisture, the paint chipped and dirtied by whoever had lived there before me. The bed I usually slept on creaked with every slight movement and had a sunken middle that never let me forget how long I’d owned it.

But this bed was soft, felt very fluffy and warm. 

It embraced me in a way that felt foreign. 

I sat up abruptly, my pulse quickening. My gaze darted across the massive space of the room, confusion wrapping tighter around me. I didn’t know where I was but one thing was certain, it wasn’t my room. I saw a small figure sitting beside the bed, legs dangling just short of the ground, her tiny hands clutching a notepad. 

She smiled when she noticed I was staring, softly and sweetly, as though she had been waiting for me to wake up.

“Angel,” I breathed, recognizing her instantly. 

Relief and confusion collided in me, but I couldn’t help smiling back.

The little girl I’d helped yesterday, the one who’d gotten lost at the grocery store. 

The mute girl whose father/guardian had been frantically searching for her.

But what was she doing here? 

And more importantly, what was I doing here?

Angel quickly scribbled something onto her notepad and held it up.

“Sleep well?”

I nodded, still dazed. “Yes. Oh, Angel, how about you? Did you sleep well too?”

She nodded eagerly, the corners of her lips twitching in amusement before she scribbled something else.

Her calmness soothed me a little, but the questions in my mind wouldn’t stop racing. I glanced around the room again, the neat arrangement of everything, the faint scent of sandalwood in the air and something about it tugged at me. 

A familiarity I couldn’t place.

“Where am I?” I finally asked, unable to hold my curiosity any longer.

She wrote again and turned the pad toward me.

“At my home.”

Her home?

My stomach twisted uneasily, though I didn’t understand why.

“Can you take me around?” I asked gently, rising to my feet. “I’d like to see how your home looks.”

She nodded without hesitation, sliding off the chair and slipping her small hand into mine. 

Together we stepped into the hallway, our footsteps soft against the marble floor. The house was elegant and eerily quiet, and yet something about it felt achingly familiar. 

The scent, the echo of the halls, even the way the light filtered through the large windows, it all brushed against a part of my memory that I couldn’t fully recall. 

Like I'd been here before.

Angel’s tablet suddenly chimed, breaking the silence. She dropped my hand and ran off down the corridor before I could stop her, her little figure vanishing around the corner.

I stood alone, my heartbeat slowing back to a steady rhythm as I stared after her.

For a few long seconds, I tried to retrace the thread of last night, how I got here, what had happened before everything went black. 

Then, like a blow, the memory hit me.

The man. 

The expensive tuxedo. 

The way I’d vomited all over him in the middle of the street.

My stomach knotted in horror as realization dawned.

I was in his house.

The man I had humiliated last night and whose name I didn’t even know.

My words caught in my throat and without thinking, I turned and bolted down the staircase, convinced I needed to get out of that house before the man found me. It would be mortifying enough if he recognized me, not after I had thrown up all over him.

I ran down four flights of stairs, my shoes thudding against marble steps. Four, which meant there had to be an elevator somewhere, but because I’d been too panicked to think straight, I hadn’t noticed.

“Veronica?”

The voice stopped me coldly. I froze halfway down the stairs and turned, dread pooling in my stomach.

“Mason?” I called back, casual enough to hide the shock flooding through me. My lips parted, about to ask him what he was doing here, but he spoke before I could get a word out.

“Can you stop obsessing over me, Veronica?” His tone dripped with irritation. “I already told you, it’s your sister I want, not you. Why are you sneaking into my house when I’ve made that clear?”

“What?” The word slipped out under my breath, disbelief strangling my voice.

He continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “I understand how struggling actresses like you have it rough. Landing roles is hard, so you hunt for wealthy men to cling to. But Veronica, I’m not interested. Not in you. Not in sponsoring you. I’m not going to be your money bag. You’re a gold digger and you don’t even deserve a flicker of kindness from anyone.”

I just stood there, too stunned to speak. I’d been surprised to see him in Angel’s house, but after that insult, I couldn’t even ask what he was doing there. Not when every word that came from his mouth was venom.

“I have a lot of businesses, Veronica. I have money. I have women. I have everything anyone wants,” he boasted, puffing out his chest. “Everything, and I do not want you. Can you stop stalking me now and stop sneaking into my house?”

His voice grated on my nerves, and before I could bite back, a familiar figure appeared at the top of the stairs.

The man from last night.

“Mason?” The man’s deep voice echoed as he descended the staircase, calm and measured.

Mason stiffened instantly, his face draining of color. “Uncle,” he stammered, eyes wide. “I… I didn’t know you were back.”

‘Uncle?’ My mind reeled.

While they exchanged words, I saw my chance and tried to sneak away. My heart was hammering, my only thought being escape. But before I could reach the door, a strong hand caught my wrist.

“Angel, my daughter, has been to therapy for years,” the man said evenly. “No positive feedback. She’s never been this happy or responsive to anyone, not until she met you, Veronica.”

“Thank you for the compliment, sir,” I muttered, bowing my head slightly, my mind racing for an exit plan. 

I hadn’t realized he was Angel’s father. 

This was bad, I needed to leave immediately.

“Stay,” he whispered when I tried to pull my wrist free.

I let out a dry laugh. 

Stay? 

As what, my ex’s stalker? 

I could already imagine Mason spinning the narrative.

“Angel has never accepted anyone easily, Veronica. I’d like to hire you as her nanny, if that’s acceptable to you.”

“You don’t even know me,” I protested, my voice rising. “Why would you suddenly—”

“You barely knew her yesterday too,” he cut in calmly, “yet you saved her life. She’s the one who asked me to hire you. We’ve been searching for a nanny since returning from abroad.”

“I—”

“Ten grand monthly, I'll pay you that much if you accept our offer” he said simply.

I went silent immediately. 

Ten grand. 

That was a lot of money, a whole lot. 

Suddenly, running didn’t seem like such an urgent idea anymore. 

Nor did being his daughter's nanny sound bad.