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Twenty-Eight
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2026-08-01 07:59:17It started as one of those small things that should've been easy to dismiss.
A face. Not even a familiar one. Just a woman she'd noticed standing outside Theo's school one Tuesday morning while the children filed through the gates. Dark coat. Hair tied back. Coffee cup in one hand. Phone in the other. New York was full of parents waiting outside schools. Marielle hadn't thought about her again. Until the next day.
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Nanny To The Billionaire's Secret Heir Fifty nine
Marielle had expected the island to be beautiful. Grayson had mentioned white sand, clear water and a house large enough to accommodate all three of them, so she had already pictured something expensive and slightly ridiculous. What she had not expected was how quiet it would be. There were no cars passing on a road somewhere beyond the trees. No staff members waiting around unless they were needed. No strangers wandering past with phones held up. Most of all, there were no cameras. She stood near the edge of the beach for a moment, sunglasses pushed onto her head, and looked back at the house. Nobody was watching them. Nobody knew where they were. She could not remember the last time she had been somewhere without checking over her shoulder first.Theo did not care about any of that. He had been on the beach for less than two minutes when he announced that it was his. “This part is mine,” he said, pointing at a patch of sand as though he had paid for it himself. Marielle laughed and
Nanny To The Billionaire's Secret Heir Fifty eight
By six in the morning, Theo had already asked twelve questions, lost one sock, found the sock inside his pillowcase, and announced that he was taking three books, two dinosaurs, his binoculars, a football, and a wooden sword to the island. Marielle stood at the foot of his bed with her arms folded, watching him shove things into a small blue suitcase that was clearly too full to close. She had tried telling him the island probably had things for children to do. Theo had looked at her as though she had missed the entire point. “But those things aren't mine.” He had said it so seriously that she had given up. Ten minutes later, the suitcase was sitting open on the hallway floor while Theo wrestled with the zip and Grayson walked past carrying his own bag and a smaller one for Theo. He stopped, looked at the suitcase, then looked at his son. “How many dinosaurs are you taking?” “Three.” “Why three?” Theo frowned at him. “Because they have to have friends.” Grayson nodded as though this
Nanny To The Billionaire's Secret Heir Sixty nine
The first crack of thunder came just after sunset, loud enough to rattle the windows of the main house, and Theo nearly dropped the cards he was holding. “What was that?” he asked, his eyes widening as another low rumble rolled across the island. “That,” Grayson said, looking up from his phone, “is thunder.” Theo frowned at him. “I know what thunder is.” “Then why did you ask?” “Because yours sounded different.” Marielle bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing. Theo was trying very hard to look brave, but every time the wind slammed against the windows, his little shoulders jumped. The storm had arrived faster than any of them expected. An hour earlier, the sky had only been grey. Now the palm trees outside were bending under the force of the wind, rain striking the glass so hard that it sounded like someone was throwing handfuls of pebbles at the house.One of the island staff members h
Nanny To The Billionaire's Secret Heir Fifty seven
Marielle was halfway through clearing the breakfast table when Grayson walked into the kitchen with his phone in one hand and the expression he usually wore right before telling someone something they wouldn't like. She noticed the look before she noticed him.What, she said.He stopped beside the island. Good morning to you too.It is morning, she said. You look suspicious.I look tired.You looked tired yesterday.I have a lot of responsibilities.You also have a very expensive bed.His mouth twitched. That isn't relevant, he said.It is when you're complaining about being tired.Grayson put his phone down and reached for the coffee pot. I wasn't complaining, he said. I was going to tell you something.Marielle put the plate she was holding into the sink and turned toward him. That sounds worse.He poured himself coffee before he answered. We're going away for a few days.She stared at him. Where?The island.She waited for more, but nothing came. That was the whole announcement?Fo
Nanny To The Billionaire's Secret Heir Fifty six
Marielle heard the house go quiet before she thought about it directly, just an absence registering somewhere below conscious notice. No feet pounding the landing. No Odette after Theo about brushing his teeth twice, properly this time. No Grayson slamming a cupboard shut because whatever he needed turned out to be in the other room. Even the fridge had stopped its hum for a second, or maybe she just hadn't noticed it until it stopped.She stood at the bottom of the stairs and waited for the silence to break itself. It didn't. So she went toward the living room, where gold light was still leaking out under the doorframe from the tree.She meant to go straight up.She opened the door instead.Most of the lamps had been switched off hours ago. The tree threw soft colour across the carpet, over torn wrapping paper, and over a pile of Theo's presents that had gotten abandoned halfway through opening because something else had caught his attention first. One sock had migrated over by the f
Nanny To The Billionaire's Secret Heir Fifty five
Marielle knew, because she’d checked twice, and the second time she’d stood in the doorway longer than she needed to, just watching him breathe the way children do when they are finally fully asleep, heavy and unguarded, one foot sticking out from under the blanket like it had given up trying to stay warm, his dinosaur tucked under his arm as if it had been assigned that job and took it seriously, and the book Odette had told him a hundred times not to leave open face-down was still there beside his pillow like a small act of rebellion he would never remember in the morning.She stepped inside anyway, careful not to make the floorboards complain, and picked the book up, running her thumb over the bent pages with a quiet sigh.“You’re going to ruin the spine,” she murmured, even though he was already too far gone to hear her, and she knew it, and still said it like it mattered.She placed it on the bedside table, straightened the corner of his blanket, and gently tucked his foot back u
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