LOGINAlessia's POVBianca Moretti walked into the estate like she already owned it. Draped in head-to-toe white silk with dark sunglasses pushed onto her hair, she radiated money, power, and cruel arrogance."Ew," she drawled, stopping short right in front of me and Elijah at the bottom of the stairs. She peeled off her sunglasses, looking me up and down with open disgust. "Is this the nanny? She looks like she belongs in a shelter, not tending to a De Santis heir."Elijah shrank behind my legs, his little fingers tightening around my apron. I kept my chin up, keeping my face completely blank. "Good morning, Lady Moretti.""Don't speak to me unless I address you directly," she snapped softly, stepping past us as if we were trash blocking her path.That afternoon, the cruelty didn't stop. Lorenzo called a formal dinner in the grand dining room. I was ordered to stand near the side wall alongside the senior staff, holding a tray of wine glasses.At the head of the table sat Lorenzo. Beside h
Alessia's POVAfter the ambush, the atmosphere inside the estate shifted completely. Lorenzo locked the entire property down, doubling the security at every exit. But the biggest change was happening behind closed doors.He didn't make me sleep in the servants' quarters anymore. He moved me directly into the suite connected to Elijah’s nursery, giving me free rein as his son’s personal caretaker. On paper, I was still an employee. But the way Lorenzo looked at me when we passed each other in the hallways made my skin burn with a dangerous heat.It was past midnight when I finally rocked Elijah back to sleep. The trauma of the attack still made him wake up screaming every few hours, and my arms were aching from holding him.I gently tucked him into his small bed, pulling the duvet over his chest. I smoothed his soft dark hair away from his forehead, kissing his temple before stepping quietly out of the nursery into my adjoining room.I turned off the main lights, leaving only the soft
Alessia's POVBy my third week at the estate, the exhaustion was settling deep into my bones. But physical tiredness was nothing compared to the emotional torture of watching my son from a distance.On Tuesday afternoon, everything fell apart in the main hallway.Elijah was having a meltdown. He sat in the middle of the carpet, crying so hard he was gasping for air. His face was flushed red, tears soaking his small collar. Next to him, his elder nanny, Clara, looked flustered and exasperated, holding out a silver bowl of oatmeal."Young master, please, just one bite," Clara begged, her voice high and strained. "Your father will be furious if he finds out you haven't eaten all day."Elijah just pushed the bowl away, sending it clattering onto the floor. Soft warm oatmeal splattered across the expensive rug."No! Go away! I want my mama!" Elijah sobbed, burying his face in his tiny hands.My heart shattered right then and there. Clara huffed in frustration, raising her hand as if to gra
Alessia's POVThree years sounds like a short time. But when every single second is spent missing a piece of your own soul, three years feels like a lifetime in hell.I sat on the edge of the narrow twin bed in my tiny room, smoothing down the dark fabric of my uniform. White apron, black dress, non-slip shoes. Plain. Unremarkable. Exactly what I needed to be.It took me thirty-six months, a fake identity under the name "Elena Cruz," and every favor I could beg from people in the underground to land a job here. The De Santis estate was practically a fortress. High stone walls, armed guards at every gate, and security cameras covering every single inch of the property. Normal people spent their whole lives trying to stay as far away from Lorenzo De Santis as possible.I had willingly walked right back into his lair.I took a deep breath, clutching the small silver cross necklace hidden beneath my collar. My hands were shaking, but I forced my legs to move. I had a job to do."Elena! St
Alessia's POVThe sterile smell of bleach and isopropyl alcohol always made my stomach turn. But tonight, sitting under the flickering fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway, it felt like a death sentence.Through the small glass window of the ICU door, I could see my father. Monitors beeped around him, keeping track of a life that was slowly slipping away. Beside me, my mother was silently crying, her hands raw from rubbing them together in panic. We didn't just have medical bills piling up; we had loan sharks breathing down our necks. Loan sharks who didn't care about a dying old man. They wanted their money, and they wanted it now.I looked down at the crisp, heavy paper in my hands. The black ink looked stark against the white sheet.Surrogacy Agreement."Are you sure about this, Miss Romano?"The voice belonged to a man in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit. He didn't look like a doctor or a lawyer. He looked like an executioner with a clipboard. He didn't even look at me wit







