All Chapters of Nanny To My highschool Nemesis : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Brooklyn's POVI heard her before I saw her.Not words. Just that particular broken sound that Daisy made when something had gone past the point she could hold quietly. I had learned to recognise it — the difference between her small private sounds and the ones that meant something was genuinely wrong.This was the second kind.I followed it through the house and stopped in the doorway of Patrick's study.Daisy was on the floor.Not sitting. On her knees on the hardwood with sheets of paper scattered around her in every direction, some of them crumpled at the edges where she had been pressing too hard, some of them flat and covered in her careful handwriting. She was writing on a fresh one as I watched — fast, urgent, not her usual deliberate pace but something desperate underneath it.Patrick was at his desk.He was looking at his laptop screen with his reading glasses on and his jaw set and he was not looking at his daughter on the floor in front of him. Not at the papers. Not at he

Brooklyn's POV"Are you serious right now?" I stared at him. "You want me to tell the whole school it was you?""I didn't say that.""Then what are you saying? Because those were the only two options available to me in that classroom. Jordan claimed it or the entire school spent the rest of the week deciding which teacher I'd slept with this time to earn jewellery." I kept my voice even but it was taking effort. "Which version would you prefer?"He said nothing."That's what I thought." I crossed my arms. "Jordan covered for me. I didn't ask him to but he did and I'm not going to apologise for accepting it.""I still don't like it.""You don't have to like it." I looked at him directly. "My promise to stay away from Jordan still stands. I meant that and I'm keeping it. But I need time to do it in a way that doesn't look suspicious. I can't just suddenly cut him off after everything that happened yesterday without people asking questions.""Time," he repeated."Yes. A reasonable amount

Brooklyn's POVPatrick told me at breakfast."The Holloways are coming again," he said, not looking up from his phone. "Friday evening. I've arranged caterers but I need you to oversee them in the kitchen. Make sure everything runs properly.""Of course," I said.He looked up briefly. "The last dinner was interrupted. This one needs to go smoothly."I nodded and said nothing about turmeric or fake allergies or the note I had folded into someone's palm under a dining room table."Seven o'clock," he said and went back to his phone.---Friday came faster than I wanted it to.The caterers arrived at five and took over the kitchen with the particular organised chaos of people who did this professionally and did not need my input but required my presence to sign off on things and answer questions and make sure nothing was put in the wrong place.By six forty five they were mostly done. I was putting things back in order — returning items to their proper places, checking that the counters w

Brooklyn's POVRiley said nothing about the hallway.She walked beside Emerson toward the dining room and whatever she had seen or concluded stayed exactly where it was — behind her eyes, unspoken, filed away. She was good at that. I could see it from the kitchen doorway as they rounded the corner together. The way she had composed herself so quickly told me she was someone who collected information quietly and decided later what to do with it.I gave it three minutes and then followed with the water jug.---The dining table looked the way Patrick's dinners always looked — precise and expensive and designed to communicate something about the kind of family the Westons were. The caterers had done everything correctly. I had nothing to do except stay available, refill glasses, remove plates at the right moments, and be invisible in between.I was good at invisible.I moved around the table at the intervals I had learned from the first dinner. James Holloway talked business with Patrick

Brooklyn's POV"Go back to dinner," I said.He didn't move."Your fiancée might come looking for you again."Something crossed his face. "She's not my fiancée.""Your father seems to disagree.""My father disagrees with a lot of things." He held my gaze. "That's not what we're talking about.""Then what are we talking about?" I kept my arms crossed. "Because you have a dining room full of guests downstairs and a girl who spilled a full drink on me to test your reaction — " I paused — "and instead of being down there you're in my room asking me questions I don't owe you answers to.""You said I was messing with your head," he said simply. "I want to understand that.""I think you understand it perfectly.""I don't." He looked at me steadily. "Explain it."I exhaled. "You act differently every time, Emerson. That's it. That's the whole explanation." I shifted my weight. "One day you're putting a bracelet outside my door. The next day everything wrong in your life is my fault. One day yo