All Chapters of The Billionaire's Sweet Nanny : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

LiamPeople say the devil hides in the details. I never believed that until I opened my private email that morning. It wasn’t a business email. It wasn’t a partner trying to grab another piece of my fortune. It wasn’t even Zinna or Olavo begging for Julie’s presence. It was something much worse.The photos were there, attached, a sequence of images that almost made me crush the phone in my hands. New photos. New videos and new silent tortures. It was Kyra. No — Isabelle.She didn’t know I had already read every single caption, every damn date recorded in tiny corners of the files. They weren’t recent photos, they were digital scars from the past. But what tore me apart wasn’t just the explicit content, but the way she appeared in them. Bound. On her knees. Tearful eyes, begging for mercy. A man in the background, always out of focus, but present enough to show he had control.And then the videos. Her trembling voice. The muffled crying. The word “mercy” spat between sobs as if it were

LiamObsession has its own smell. For me, it smelled like gasoline, heated leather, midnight, and the rush of tires in the rain. I spent the entire night tracking footprints that a small body had left behind; I scoured neighborhood camera footage, dug through pedestrian entry records, asked the security guards to review access logs from the past four days. Every screen that flickered returned the same emptiness: no clear trace, no lead that could take me to her.I hired a private investigator with a dirty but efficient reputation. I instructed him with the coldness of someone delegating the part that hurts too much to execute. “Don’t find her,” was what, for some reason, I didn’t say — because, in my mind, finding her would be the conclusion, and I wasn’t ready for the end of this chapter. I only said: “Trace everything. Phones, cards, payments, cameras, acquaintances. Follow the faintest trail.” He responded with a nod over the phone, promising a list of names and locations within fo

LiamThe phone rang just after two in the morning. It wasn’t the sort of time people usually called me without a reason. I answered abruptly, still holding a half-empty glass of whisky in my hand, my head heavy. Silence on the other end.“Who is it?” My voice came out rough, thick with alcohol.A crackle. Then a hoarse, distorted voice, almost a caricature of a human being:"Want to see your nanny? Go to 57 Knox Street. The Bar of the Forgotten. She should be there, forgotten..." "Who the hell are you?" I growled, sitting up. "What the fuck do you want?" The line went dead.For a second, I thought it was a tasteless joke. Until the message flashed on the screen: an address. And a blurry, recent photo. Kyra — slumped over, her face turned to the side, her clothes crumpled, as if she’d been thrown on the floor like rubbish.Ice spread through my veins.The glass fell from my hand, the whisky staining the carpet. I grabbed the car keys. I didn’t even think. There was nothing but the r

LiamAfter days of not speaking a single word directly to me, there she was. Kyra was waiting for me at my office door... The first thing I noticed wasn’t the money in her hands. It was the way she entered — silent, restrained, yet determined. Kyra held that envelope as if it were a death sentence. And perhaps it was.She placed it on the desk and stepped back immediately, as if touching anything that belonged to me were far too dangerous."The five thousand you lent me that day..." Her voice was firm, but the tremor in her fingers told me otherwise. "It’s all in there. You can check, if you like." I touched the paper, but didn’t look inside. It wasn’t about the money. It never had been.“You didn’t have to…” My voice came out lower than I’d expected. “I told you I didn’t need it, Kyra.” She took a deep breath, avoiding my eyes."You did need it. I don’t want anything from you. No favours, no debts. I hope I’ll never need you again." Those words were like a knife. I should have be

KyraThe door slammed behind me with a bang that echoed down the corridor. My feet moved before my mind had even processed it. An instinct. An urge to flee. I ran down the stairs, through the living room, grabbed the rucksack where I kept my few belongings, and shoved the haphazardly folded clothes inside. My hands were shaking so much that the rucksack fell to the floor twice. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t stay there. Not after what I’d seen, not after what I’d heard. I needed to take a day off. At least one day. His words burned inside my head like fire.No, I didn’t like it. Not like that. Not with him drunk, calling me by a name that wasn’t mine, trying to fit me into a memory that never belonged to me. I wasn’t Isabelle. I never would be. I would never let myself be subjected to such a thing again. I looked one last time at the door to Julie’s room. She slept peacefully, unaware of anything, with no idea of the chaos unfolding within those walls. A sharp pang of pain pierced my