Fate Has a Strange Sense of Humor

Diana's POV

“I just found a job for you that pays more in one month than you've ever made in an entire year!” Sofia screamed excitedly from the other side of the line, her voice so loud it practically vibrated through the speaker.

I blinked, pulling the phone an inch away from my ear. “What...?”

Is this girl a psychic? How on earth did she already know I lost my cafe job less than an hour ago? I was still drowning in my own bewildered thoughts when her sharp tone dragged me right back to reality.

“I’m sending an Uber to your location right now,” she ordered with full girl boss authority. “Get in and meet me ASAP, migliore amico!”

Before I could even answer, the call disconnected. I let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. Sure enough, less than three minutes later, a bright yellow cab pulled up along the curb in front of me.

I tapped lightly on the passenger window to signal the driver, pulling open the door and sliding into the plush back seat. As the car pulled smoothly into the mid-afternoon traffic, I caught the driver’s eyes watching me through the rearview mirror. 

He looked like a kind, old man in his late fifties, with deep crinkles around his eyes.

“Having a rough day, miss?” he asked softly, his voice carrying a gentle, fatherly warmth.

“You could say that,” I replied, attempting to force a polite smile that completely failed to reach my eyes.

The old driver offered a knowing, sympathetic nod. “You see, miss... the road that breaks your heart is often the exact same one that leads you to a much better place.”

His words hung in the air, hit me like a splash of refreshing water. The heavy tightness in my chest began to loosen. My life had been an unrelenting roller coaster of ups and downs, but sitting in the back of that cab, I realized I still possessed the one thing nobody could steal from me: hope.

“I really pray so, sir,” I murmured, leaning my head back against the headrest.

The rest of the ride was remarkably peaceful. The driver clearly had an incredible taste in music—or perhaps he was just playing his teenage daughter’s favorite playlist. 

Ariana Grande’s ‘bye’ began blasting softly through the speakers.

“So I grab my stuff, Courtney just pulled up in the driveway, it’s time!”

The beat completely carried me away into my own little world. I was singing along at the top of my lungs, dramatically gesturing out the window, completely oblivious to my surroundings until the car smoothly came to a stop.

“Miss... I think you’ve reached your destination,” an amused voice called out.

The music cut off. I snapped out of my trance to find the driver looking back at me with a massive, cheek-to-cheek grin, biting his lip to keep from bursting into full-blown laughter.

My face instantly flushed red in embarrassment. “I am so, so sorry, sir!” I squeaked, hurriedly unbuckling my seatbelt. I pushed the door open, practically tumbling out onto the sidewalk.

“Thank you for the ride! Have a wonderful day!”

He just chuckled warmly, waving goodbye as he pulled away. I exhaled a long breath—most drivers with terrible anger issues would have screamed at me to shut up or just kicked me out.

Turning around, I looked up at the familiar view in front of me.

Caffè Fiore.

This tiny, charming café was our absolute sanctuary. It was warm, cozy, decorated with fresh floral arrangements, and smelled of roasted espresso beans and sweet vanilla. 

Sofia and I had spent endless afternoons here gossip-talking, eating pastries, and cramming for our university semester exams…

The moment I stepped through the glass door, something heavy crashed straight into me.

“Hey girlie!” Sofia squealed, throwing her arms around my neck with enough force to knock both of us down to the floor.

God, this girl will be the death of me. It was a miracle I was a few inches taller than her, or we both would have ended up on the hardwood floor.

Sofia was my absolute rock. As the only daughter of multi-millionaire Enzo Russo, she was the sole heiress to the massive Russo Hotels and Resorts empire. A certified nepo baby. She had every reason in the world to be bratty, arrogant, and insufferable like so many wealthy heirs, but Sofia was the exact opposite—sweet, wildly generous, occasionally clueless about real-world struggles, and an absolute angel.

She pulled me over to our favorite corner booth. But as she opened her mouth to order our usual drinks, her brown eyes locked onto my swollen eyelids.

“Wait... what happened to your face, Miss D? Have you been crying?”

I took a deep, shaky breath, laying out every single detail of my disastrous morning—from the ugly guy incident to my manager unfaiy firing me.

“He WHAT?!” Sofia suddenly roared, slamming her palms onto the marble table so hard the water glasses shook violently. “Chi è quel bastardo?! Who does that slimeball think he is?!”

Every head in the café turned in our direction. I instantly buried my face in my hands. "Sofia, please! Lower your voice!"

"If I was there, I would have given that man the beating of his life!" she fumed, her chest heaving.

"Calm down, girlfriend," I coaxed gently. "I survived, didn't I?"

After three full minutes of me fanning her face and offering soothing words, Sofia finally collapsed back into her chair, regaining her composure like a civilized human being. 

A sly, reassuring smile slowly spread across her lips.

"Well... maybe today wasn't the end of the road for you after all," she murmured, sliding her sleek gold iPhone across the table toward me.

On the screen was an elegant crest and in bold lettering:

NURTURE LINE AGENCY

Seeking Elite, Professional Nannies. Exceptional Compensation. Private Luxury Accommodation Included.

I let out a sudden, fit of laughter. "Professional? Sofia, surviving my chaotic little twin brothers every single day is professional enough!"

Sofia burst into a maniacal laughter, clapping her hands together. "Exactly my point! You've been basically co-raising Matei and Vlad since they were born! You've survived sleepless nights, mastered primary school homework, cooked endless meals, and handled chickenpox outbreaks without blinking!"

She leaned across the table, her eyes shining with absolute conviction. "Trust me on this, Diana—you were literally built for this job."

Before I could even process the idea, Sofia had already called her private driver, refusing to let me talk my way out of it.

—

Twenty minutes later, we pulled up to the massive, sleek glass skyscraper housing the Nurture Line Agency. The entire lobby practically screamed luxury; polished marble floors, grand crystal chandeliers, and security guards in tailored suits.

Without proper directions, a person could easily get lost because it was such a massive building.

A polished receptionist greeted us with a cute smile. “Welcome to Nurture Line. Are you here for applicant registration?”

“Yes, please!” I nodded eagerly.

She handed me a heavy paper form attached to a leather clipboard.

> Applicant Details:

> Occupation:

> Emergency Contact:

> Childcare Experience:

> Languages Spoken:

“Boy, this company doesn't play around,” I thought, meticulously writing down my details before handing the clipboard back across the desk.

The receptionist scanned the page, her eyebrow arching slightly as her eyes landed on one specific line. “Under Childcare Experience, you wrote... 'Five years of intense combat survival raising twin younger brothers'?”

Sofia instantly exploded into a fit of giggles, and after a brief pause, the receptionist’s professional mask slipped into a warm laugh as well.

“Honestly? That definitely counts,” the receptionist smiled, stamping my file with a green seal. “You certainly have real-world experience!”

I let out a quiet sigh of relief, offering a silent prayer to the heavens: Please, just let me land a decent, reasonable employer…

***

Francesco's POV

“These people are utterly wasting my bloody time!” I growled, my voice dark and dangerously low.

I had been sitting for a long time in the back of my armored Range Rover due to Milan’s insufferable traffic for thirty minutes now. 

I hated inefficiency. In my line of work, lost time wasn't just lost money—it was a vulnerability.

I angrily flicked the switch, lowering the soundproof glass partition separating me from the driver’s seat. 

Up front, my right-hand man, Matteo, sat with his jaw clenched, looking just as pissed off as I was.

“Are you absolutely certain about this agency, Matteo?” I demanded, tapping my heavy signet ring against the leather armrest.

Matteo turned his head slightly, his tone respectful. “Yes, Boss. Nurture Line is the top firm in the country. They exclusively supply elite staff to diplomats, international CEOs, and high-ranking politicians. If their recruiters cannot find someone capable of handling Lady Aurora... then no one in Europe can…”

Ten minutes later, the car pulled up to the private rear entrance of the agency.

The owner of the establishment was already standing outside on the pavement, practically shaking with anxiety. Sweat formed beads along his receding hairline.

As I stepped out into the cool air, he bowed his head nervously, his hand trembling as he gestured toward the doors.

The moment I crossed the threshold into the building, the atmosphere shifted instantly…

Employees froze in their tracks. Conversations died instantly. No one dared to breathe, move, or make eye contact. They knew exactly who I was—and what happened to people who crossed the Marino family.

I was escorted directly into a huge, private office. Waiting for me on the heavy mahogany desk was a thick stack of portfolio folders.

“M-Make your pick, Mr. Marino,” the owner—a sniveling man named Mr. Hugo stammered, wiping his eyebrows with a silk handkerchief. “Every single applicant here has passed our most rigorous background checks and psychological evaluations.”

I sat down, pulling the first file toward me with total indifference. I flipped page after page, my annoyance growing with every passing second…

Former schoolteachers, aristocrats, overly polished career nannies. None of them looked remotely capable. Lucia would tear every single one of these women to shreds within two hours.

I was about to slam the stack shut and walk out when a photograph on the final page caught my eye.

A young woman stared back at the camera. She possessed long waves of vibrant red hair, striking green eyes, and a soft, genuine smile that seemed entirely out of this world. 

No heavy makeup, no ridiculous designer jewelry, no fake posture—just completely herself.

My fingers froze against the edge of the paper. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the photograph.

Beside me, Mr. Hugo leaned in cautiously, noticing my sudden stillness. “Ah... an excellent choice, sir!”

“What is her name?” I asked, my voice dropping into a deep, commanding tone.

“Diana Popescu,” Hugo replied quickly, reading everything from his tablet. “She... ah, actually just finished registering with us this very afternoon!”

Diana Popescu. The name rolled off my tongue. It was exotic, sharp and definitely not native Italian.

A strange, unfamiliar sensation settled in my chest. She was the one. I could feel it in my bones..

Without another word, I snapped the leather portfolio shut, standing up and buttoning my tailored suit jacket.

“Arrange an interview,” I commanded.

Hugo nodded frantically, grabbing his desk phone. “Of course, Mr. Marino! I will set it up for tomorrow morning—”

“No,” I cut him off smoothly, stepping toward the doors while adjusting my cufflinks.

I paused at the threshold, glancing back over my shoulder with a cold shimmer in my eye.

“Arrange it today….”