My daughter's nanny

Chapter 5

Chapter 5 💜

The morning sun streamed through the tall windows of the Elton mansion, casting warm light over the marble floors. Isabella adjusted her cardigan nervously as she stood at the foot of the grand staircase, clutching the folder Lady Vicky had given her the previous evening.

It was her first official day as Lia Elton’s nanny.

She told herself she wasn’t nervous, but the way her palms kept sweating betrayed her. She had worked in cafés and small shops before, but working inside a place like this — with people like the Eltons — was different. One wrong word, one mistake, and she could be shown the door.

“Good morning, Isabella.”

She turned to see Lady Vicky, her posture stiff as always, hands folded neatly in front of her. The older woman’s eyes scanned her outfit from head to toe, lingering a little too long on the small scuff mark on her shoes.

“Morning, ma’am,” Isabella replied politely, lowering her gaze.

“Lia is in her playroom upstairs. You are to help her with breakfast, supervise her morning lesson, and take her to the garden for some fresh air afterward. Her father has meetings all day, so do not disturb him unless it is urgent.”

“I understand.”

Lady Vicky’s lips pressed into a thin line, as if she was waiting for Isabella to fail before the day had even started. Without another word, she gestured toward the stairs.

Isabella took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and climbed.

---

The playroom door was slightly ajar, and Isabella could hear soft humming from inside. She stepped in and saw Lia sitting cross-legged on the floor, a coloring book spread open before her. Her little fingers clutched a crayon, and her brow was furrowed in deep concentration.

“Good morning, Lia,” Isabella said gently.

The girl’s head snapped up, and a slow smirk tugged at her lips. “You’re late.”

Isabella blinked, glancing at her watch. “Actually, it’s—”

“I don’t like waiting,” Lia interrupted, tossing the crayon onto the table. “Where’s my breakfast?”

Suppressing a smile, Isabella walked over and crouched down so she was at the child’s eye level. “Your breakfast is coming, but I thought we could have it together. What do you think?”

Lia tilted her head, studying her as though weighing the offer. “You talk differently than Emily. She always sounds like she’s… annoyed.”

“Do I?” Isabella asked, amused.

“Yes. You sound… softer. Like my mama used to.”

The words hit Isabella harder than she expected. She swallowed, forcing herself to smile. “I’m glad you think so.”

Lia’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Do you have kids?”

Isabella froze. For a moment, the air between them felt heavy. “No,” she said after a pause. “Not anymore.”

The child didn’t understand the weight in her tone. She simply shrugged and skipped toward the door. “Come on, I’m hungry.”

---

Breakfast was served in the smaller dining room — though “small” by Elton standards still meant a table big enough to seat ten people. Lia climbed onto her seat with practiced grace, while Isabella took the chair beside her.

The plates arrived, set down by one of the maids: fluffy pancakes, scrambled eggs, and a small bowl of fruit. Isabella helped Lia cut the pancakes, noticing how the girl kept glancing at her from the corner of her eye.

“You eat, too,” Lia ordered, pushing the fruit bowl toward her.

Isabella chuckled. “Thank you, but this is yours.”

“No. You eat it.”

It was such a small gesture, but it made Isabella’s chest tighten. She picked up a grape and popped it into her mouth. “Happy now?”

“Yes,” Lia said, her voice softer now.

For a brief moment, it felt almost natural, almost like… family.

---

Mid-morning came, and Isabella found herself sitting in the garden while Lia chased butterflies. The manicured hedges, the scent of blooming roses, and the distant sound of the fountain created a picture-perfect scene.

But Isabella’s mind kept drifting.

Lia was six years old. Six. The same age her own child would have been. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about it for years, but every laugh, every stubborn pout from the little girl made it harder to keep that wall up.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a shadow falling across her.

Anderson Elton stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. The sunlight caught the sharp angles of his jaw, and his presence seemed to pull the air tighter.

“You’re doing well with her,” he said simply.

Isabella straightened. “Thank you, sir.”

“Not many can keep Lia entertained for more than five minutes.”

Isabella glanced toward the girl, who was now crouched in the grass, carefully holding a butterfly in her hands. “She’s… different. But I like that about her.”

Anderson’s eyes lingered on her face for a second too long before he looked away. “Just don’t get too comfortable. This is a job, Miss Brandon.”

“I understand,” Isabella replied, though part of her bristled at the warning.

Without another word, he turned and walked back toward the mansion.

---

The rest of the day passed without much incident, but when Isabella finally left the mansion that evening, the weight of her thoughts pressed down harder than ever.

As she stepped into the cool night air, her phone buzzed.

Susan: Isa, are you free tonight? Come meet us at the club. We need a girls’ night.

For a moment, Isabella hesitated. She should go home, rest for tomorrow’s shift. But maybe a night out was exactly what she needed — a way to shake off the unsettling emotions Lia had stirred up.

She typed back: Fine. I’ll be there.