The Contract

Bella's pov

It's Saturday, and I have no work on the weekend… I have no job, actually.

Having a job means leaving home and yesterday was enough to explain that outside is still the same—dangerous, heartless and cold.

“Today is going to be different.” I said to myself and this time I could trust my words.

I already finished the house work, the garden is perfect, there are cookies in the oven and lunch is on low fire. Everything is perfect, except the fact that it's still eight in the morning and I already did everything—What about drawing a bit?

That was my plan for the weekend. Draw my sorrows. Maybe I'll write later. I don't know, make a poem about life and how things don't really make sense…

‘Lonely.’ My inner self remarked.

I'm not lonely. There is a fine line between the words lonely and alone. That line is called sanity.

I went to my art room, which is actually the solarium. I wasn't thinking when I bought this house, it was a decision of the moment.

I just wanted to forget about everything that happened and Oshawa is filled with the memories I've been trying so hard to erase.

All my life was there. Since I can remember.

My school, my first connections… that place is where my life actually started.

I met Emma there—my best friend. Marcus—my first crush. We grew up together, having fun, playing games… I was once a child full of dreams.

Dreams that I chased being the best I could be at every single thing I decided to pursue. Everything was perfect until I went to university. Alone.

I left everything for four years expecting the world outside to stay still while I was doing my best to be the best. I did it, I was the best. But when I came back I wasn't enough… All my grades, three certificates, two side courses, eight languages… It doesn't matter. No one cares.

It hurts to be too qualified but not enough in this world of fake perfection.

No, no. This wasn't the plan! I was going to paint…

I got a big frame and all my kits. I drew with my paints the colours of my heart.

I was painting a picture that some would say it's just paint splashed randomly with no specific meaning—It is true. But it has its own and unique identity. That's what makes it eccentric. Just like me.

I was about to change the tones of my palette when I heard a knock on my door.

Is it Ed? He didn't say he was coming today.

I got there, opened the door. And the sigh before me left me with no words.

“Oh my God. Sarah!” I said. I didn't realize I was missing her this much.

“Bella!” She hugged me tightly.

I lowered myself and hugged her back. She is so cute and tiny. Her silky black hair was tied into a ponytail, her pink dress matching the colour of her natural blushed cheeks. I closed my eyes to enjoy that magical moment, and a soft cotton candy scent hit me. A princess with no doubt.

I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw were shoes. Not anyone's shoes. They were delicate, probably handmade. The details on the sole were telling me that it was definitely a french brand. I lifted my eyes and found Mr Wilson there, a soft smile on his lips. “Oh, I'm sorry Mr Wilson. Please come in.” I said breaking the hug.

He smiled like anything. Dimples. Such a beautiful smile. I didn't notice he was so handsome. His sophisticated work style suits perfectly with the perfect cut on his light brown hair and… blue eyes. When did that happen?

How didn't I notice his baby blue eyes before?

“What were you doing Bella? You're covered with paint.” Sarah asked and then I realised the mess I was.

My messy bun was messier and my white hoodie was multicoloured.

I smiled at my state and said, “I was painting sweetie. Wanna see?”

“Wow. Yes please.” She said, already giggling with excitement.

“Mr Wilson, do you want something?” I asked, “ I just made cookies.”

“There is no way I'm rejecting food.” I couldn't bear it and chuckled at that. He can be funny.

I went to the kitchen and served him some biscuits and juice, turned off the stove as lunch was ready and went to the solarium to show Sarah the painting. She was so excited about it, that I decided to let her paint too.

I got a blank screen for her, an apron and let her do whatever she wanted while I went to talk to Mr Wilson. There must be a reason he is here.

I got there and sat opposite him.

“So, Mr Wilson. What brings you to my house?” Won't waste time. Direct to the point.

“First, I loved these cookies. They're amazing.” He said.

“Thank you.” I replied with a smile, “How did you find me, by the way?”

“Can't deny. It was extremely difficult. You have almost no social media, and your account on i*******m is Ella Miller, with no photos of you. But I need to say, the projects you post there are amazing.” He did some research.

“Ella is my nickname, and I don't like taking and especially posting pictures of myself.” I don't want people judging me... again. People judge even if you are the one who is right. If they can't see me, they can't judge me. If they don't know me, they can't hurt me. “And thanks. I really appreciate you liked my ideas.”

“Well, to answer your first question. I'm here to offer you a contract.” Excuse me? “I talked with my brother, Sarah's father. And he wants you to be Sarah's nanny.” What? A nanny? I'm an engineer for God's sake.

“I... I, it's…” I had no words.

“Wait. Before you answer. There is more. Sarah has some difficulty socializing. She has been through a lot since... ever…” I know this story. A mother that disappeared and a father that only existed physically.

Why does he want me to be his daughter's babysitter?

“... But she completely fell in love with you. It's like you've known each other before. Here, we don't want to lose the opportunity of making her happy. I promise you'll not regret.” He gave me a file. The contract.

I opened the file and the first thing my vision caught was the huge amount I'd be paid.

“You want to pay me one million a month to be Sarah's nanny?” I was incredulous.

“Then we'll double the amount…” What?

“No!” I cut him off. I kept reading the contract. There is nothing special to do. Just play with her, prepare her for school, help with homework, put her to bed, and then some simple rules that any civilian person can follow. In only six months—One freaking million dollars to do that?

“Is this really it?” I asked, “I can't picture you giving me one million dollars just to do this.”

“Well, we are.” He said. Truth in his eyes.

I looked at Sarah painting in the art room. She looks so happy. Am I really the only one capable of that?

“Let me think about it.” I said, “This is... a lot to process.”

“Take your time. But know that we'll be happy to have you with us.” I nodded. It was still impossible to believe, but it was real.

Sarah came back to us after some time. Cleaner than me, if I could say.

“I'm done. Come to see.” She seems so proud of her work.

We obeyed, and as expected it was pretty cool.

She played a lot with the colors drawing that butterfly. It was full of happiness, and every trace of those bright colors was expressing that.

“No me l'a. Le carottes on cuit.” No way to make it better...

“What?” They chorused.

“I said there is nothing to change. It's perfect.”

“That was French, right?” Mr Wilson asked. He looked amused.

French is one of the languages I learned doing faculty. Being a good student and using my free time to do something useful. Well, it was a waste after all. “Yep, it was.” I said instead.

They didn't take long to go.

Sarah was so happy to show her painting to her father. She hopes her father is trying to make things up to her doing this—I hope for it too…

It's evening and I'm awake.

I'm trying to sleep but there's a lot keeping me from it. There is no way I can sleep after such weird events.

One million dollars. There is definitely something hidden here. There is something mysterious about this family. About Sarah's father.

It's a lot. I need... Ideas. Brother.

I took my phone and called him, who answered immediately.

“What is it? Just let me grab my keys.” He said, already agitated.

“Wait, calm down. I'm fine.” He is too much sometimes.

“Okay,” He said, “then what is it?”

“I need help deciding something. I got an offer, a contract to be a nanny.”

“A nanny?” Yep, I can't believe it too.

“Yes. I helped a girl yesterday at the mall and it seems that she has problems socializing, but she just loves me.” I said recalling the weird events.

“Hmm,” he thought for a second, “Accept it.”

“What? But I…”

“That girl needs you.” He cut me off, “And you need to get out, meet people, and make friends.”

I...

“I'll think of it…” I said, “Bye, brother.”

“Bye.” And I disconnected the call.

I ended up getting even more confused.

I leaned on my bed and looked at the ceiling. Silence was the only thing I could hear.

Memories start coming into my mind.

Friends. I had friends.

Emma. My best friend.

She is now with my husband, my ex husband.

And the ones I called friends before wish them to be happy.

I'm sure he was already with her before he asked for my hand in marriage. Shameless.

I don't want to meet toxic people that want to rule my life and judge my beliefs.

People hurt.

I felt a tear rolling down burning my cheek with less intensity than the pain I feel inside.

This is a lot to forget.

Enough of this overthinking. Tomorrow I'll give my answer…