The Little Monster Everyone Feared

Diana's POV

I was completely and utterly exhausted.

Today had easily been the most chaotic, stressful, and bizarre day of my entire twenty-one years on this earth. What I needed more than anything right now was to crawl into my tiny bed and sleep for the next three days. 

But even at home, I knew peace was a fantasy—my twin little brothers would be bouncing off the walls the second I walked through the door…

The city bus ride back to our neighborhood was rowdy as always. People were snapping selfies in one corner, a group of teenagers were laughing so loudly they sounded like they needed urgent psychiatric intervention, and a toddler three rows to the back seat was screaming at the top of his lungs…

“Ugh... my head.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my forehead against the cool glass of the window, desperately trying to snatch a ten-minute nap. But just as my brain began to drift, my phone vibrated violently against my thigh.

An unknown number.

I almost ignored it. Probably a scammer trying to rip me off. But something urged me to swipe the green icon anyway.

"Good afternoon, Miss Popescu," a crisp, very professional voice spoke through the receiver. "This is the senior recruitment coordinator from Nurture Line Agency."

I sat up straight, my spine basically snapped in half. Oh my God. Had they already rejected my application? Was I not good enough? Was it because I was just a cyber security student with zero nanny certificates?

"One of our highest-profile clients has reviewed your file and requested to interview you today," she continued smoothly. "A vehicle is already en route to your residential address."

I jacked my arm up to check my cheap wrist watch. Today?! Right now?!

This had to be a joke. My day had officially crossed the line from exhausting to completely insane….

The moment the bus doors hissed open at my stop, I sprinted down the sidewalk like Usain Bolt himself, bursting through our front door and scrambling up the stairs to my tiny bedroom.

I began frantically tossing clothes out of my closet, searching for anything that didn't look like trash.

My mom stepped into the doorway, her brows furrowed as she watched me throw a faded t-shirt onto the floor. "Why are you running through the house like a tornado, Miss D?"

"Mom, I have an interview! Like... in twenty minutes!"

"An interview for what?" she asked, bewildered. "What about your café job?"

I froze for a split second. I hadn't told her I was fired this morning—I couldn't bring myself to break her heart. "I'll explain everything later, I promise! I just need something to wear!"

I stared in despair at my open wardrobe. Everything was plain, oversized thrift-store drab or faded jeans. I needed a wardrobe change so badly. Worse, the few nice shirts I owned were far too form-fitting. The last thing I wanted was to turn up at some billionaire's estate and be labeled as 'the trashy nanny trying to seduce her employer on day one.'

"Here," a soft voice said.

I turned around. Mom was holding a hanger with in an exquisite, vintage crimson-red dress. The fabric was soft and it was modest, falling neatly past the knees with a delicate high collar.

"This belonged to me when I was your age," Mom smiled gently. "I think it's time you wore it."

I slipped it on, and my jaw dropped. It was a flawless fit—tailored perfectly to my frame without hugging my curves too aggressively. And the deep red shade matched my hair so well it looked custom-made.

Mom sat me down at my vanity and worked absolute magic, sweeping my thick wavy red hair up into an effortlessly chic, messy bun.

"Miss D, just be yourself," Mom said softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You're going to get this job. I believe in you."

"But Mom... what if I'm not good enough?" I whispered, my voice cracking slightly. "What if they want someone with a fancy degree?"

Mom placed her warm hands on my shoulders, meeting my eyes in the mirror with so much pride. "Then they're interviewing the wrong girl."

When I stepped outside, a midnight-black luxury Maybach was parked comfortably near our curb. Just the tires on that beast could probably pay for my brothers' college tuition.

A tall chauffeur in a crisp black uniform stepped out and opened the door for me. "Miss Popescu?"

"Yes, please," I murmured nervously…

I glanced back toward the front porch. Mom was standing there, her jaw practically resting on the floor in absolute shock. I couldn't help the breathless chuckle that escaped my lips. 

As the driver put the car in drive, Mom dramatically blew me a good-luck kiss through the air, and I pretended to catch it and press it to my heart…

—

The ride was smooth and quiet. The car smelled like fresh strawberries and expensive leather. A mini television screen was embedded into the backrest of the driver's seat, and a massive navigation screen glowed on the dashboard.

Slowly, the bustling city vanished, replaced by rolling hills, oak trees, and lush shrubs. We had left Milan behind and entered the outskirts of the city.

The car finally slowed down in front of a towering heavy iron gates inscribed with a bold, silver crest: THE MARINOS.

Wait... Marino? Where have I heard that name before?...

The gates swung open, and the car glided down a long, winding cobblestone driveway. The estate wasn't a house—it was a huge, stone palace. In the center of the grand courtyard stood a massive fountain shaped like a winged angel holding a bow. I think it's Eros.

Men in dark, tailored suits stood at every corner of the property, their hands folded, eyes scanning the perimeter.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with striking blue eyes, a razor-sharp jaw, and a buzz cut approached the passenger door, pulling it open. He looked like a supermodel who could also snap a man's neck with two fingers.

"Follow me," he said coldly. No introduction, no greeting, no name.

I swallowed hard, stepping out of the car and following him through the open double doors into the grand foyer.

I silently observed every detail. The security was insane. Infrared cameras were stationed everywhere, guards stood at every exit, expensive antique vases, massive oil paintings, and crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling.

As we walked, a shiver crept down my spine. I looked up toward the second-floor foyer balcony. Standing in the shadows was a tall, dark silhouette, watching my every step with terrifying intensity. I couldn't see his face, but his presence felt like heavy iron.

The bodyguard pushed open a pair of heavy doors, revealing a cozy, sunlit study. Standing near a desk was an older woman in her early seventies, I guess. She was dressed like a rich man's mom, her silver hair pulled back into a neat bun.

"Welcome to the Marino Estate, my dear," she greeted me warmly. "I am Madame Stella Bianchi, the housekeeper."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Madame Stella," I replied politely.

"You have been brought here today for an interview regarding the position of personal nanny to Lady Lucia Marino," Stella explained, her expression suddenly dropped to a cautious tone. "Niece to Mr. Francesco Marino."

My blood instantly ran ice-cold.

Francesco Marino!

My brain shrieked in absolute horror. The Marino family wasn't just wealthy—they were the most feared, ruthless Mafia dynasty in all of Europe!

My father used to whisper stories about them when I was little. Francesco Marino was a monster who ruled the underworld with an iron fist.

Did I just sign my own death warrant by getting into that car?!

"The little mistress can be... well, she is quite the handful," Stella admitted, exchanging an uneasy glance with the tall bodyguard by the door. "I am giving you a fair warning so you know what to expect."

A handful? She's the niece of a mob boss—of course she has issues! My instinct screamed at me to turn around and run for my life. But then I thought of Mom, working herself to the bone, and my twin brothers needing a real future. This job paid more in a month than I made in an entire year, according to Soph.

All I had to do was look after a spoiled kid, mind my own business, and keep my head down.

"When does the interview start, ma'am?" I asked, bracing myself.

Stella offered a mysterious, gentle smile. 

"It has already started, my dear."

Before I could ask what she meant, a tiny pair of shoes clicked sharply against the marble hallway outside.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A tiny girl stepped into the room.

She was breathtakingly adorable. She wore a custom pink designer dress, matching pink floral shoes, and her dark hair was styled into a high ponytail tied with a silky pink ribbon. She looked like a sweet, innocent little porcelain doll.

She looked up at me and offered a bright, dimpled smile.

This is the monster everyone's terrified of? I thought, feeling a sudden wave of relief. She's an angel!

Then, her smile completely vanished. Her dark eyes narrowed, sizing me up from my hair down to my shoes with terrifying contempt.

"You're ugly," the five-year-old flatly declared.