The Nanny I Couldn’t Let Go

“Lila, can we talk?” “Of course, Dr. Lee.” Dr. Lee pushed open the office door and stepped aside, ever the gentleman, gesturing for Lila to enter first. She dipped her head politely and walked in. “How have you been lately?” he asked. “Same as always. Graduation is approaching, the school isn’t too busy anymore, so I’ve had more time to take part-time shifts.” Her tone was deliberately light—too light. The more she acted like this, the harder it became for Lee to speak. But he had to. “Lila, listen… I actually have good news. Your mother’s condition is looking optimistic. The cancer hasn’t spread, but—” He hesitated, his expression tightening. “But the medical bills can’t be delayed any longer, right?” She had already guessed the moment he said he needed to talk. Lila was smart that way—sharp in all the places life had forced her to be. “I’m really sorry,” Lee murmured. “No, this is my responsibility. And you’ve already covered some of the costs for us. I know it’s a lot of pressure for you too—your family, everything. I should be thanking you.” She exhaled softly. “Give me two days, alright? I’ll try contacting David again.” David Harris. Her father biologically—but she never called him that. “Father” could be a legal definition or a biological relation, not an emotional one. For as long as she could remember, he had barely been present at all. Leaving Dr. Lee’s office, Lila went straight toward the hospital garden. Many patients and families wandered there, sitting in the sun or chatting. It wasn’t truly peaceful—more like the last emotional outlet for people who had nowhere else to put their pain. Lila was one of them. The May sun was merciless; even the clouds seemed to have fled the heat. But Lila’s palms were cold as ice. Her thumb hovered above the call button on her phone, frozen. Lila, I really don’t have money. Where would I get money to give you? I have another woman to take care of—that b***h lies at home all day doing nothing. But she’s carrying my child, I have to support her. As for your mother… I’m sorry, I really can’t help. I’m not having an easy life either…” Who should be to blame for such a shitty life they’d been through? Was she? Was Mom? No one else should be to blame but David. She already knew what David would reply. She knew it so well it felt carved into her bones. Still, she wanted to try again—because in this whole wild world, she had no one left to rely on. If she had anyone else, she would never ever turn to David. Begging the man who abandoned her and her mother was its own kind of humiliation, one that tore at her pride. Lost in thought, she didn’t even notice she had wandered to the edge of a flowerbed—until her foot slipped and she nearly stumbled in. “Oh my god… get it together, Lila.” Her breath hitched. “What… is that?” At first, she thought she was hallucinating. She had worked the night shift and barely slept—her vision had blurred more than once today. But instinct told her she wasn’t imagining things. Someone—someone in a hospital gown—was lying face-down in the flowerbed. Lila’s heart lurched. She approached carefully and called out, “Hello? Are you okay?” No response. As she stepped closer, she realized from the small frame that it was a child. Lila didn’t dare move too quickly. She reached out and poked the child’s back gently with her finger. Still no reaction. Panic began to seep into her chest. She crouched down—and that was when she saw it. A dark, spreading pool of blood had already soaked deep into the soil beneath him. Lila’s breath broke. “Help! Somebody help!” Lila didn’t dare move the boy on her own. She leaped out of the flowerbed and shouted for help instead. Her voice sliced through the quiet garden, drawing startled gazes—confusion, shock, fear all reflected in the onlookers’ eyes. A few nurses and doctors sprinted toward her. “What’s going on?” “There’s a child—he’s… he’s bleeding!” She could barely string a full sentence together. When the boy was lifted onto the stretcher, his shirt was soaked through with dark, terrifying red. She didn’t have to run after them—but instinct overrode logic. Before she knew it, she had followed the medical team all the way to the emergency room, only to be stopped at the door. “Ma’am, please stay here.” A nurse held out an arm, blocking her path. Only then did Lila realize what she was doing—chasing after a child she had never met, with her own world already on the brink of collapse. Yet all she could think about was him. How could a child—six or seven at most—end up bleeding alone in a flowerbed? She sank into a chair outside the operating room, unsure what she was waiting for. Maybe she just wanted to hear that the child would be ok. Before long, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. Not one set—several. Lila looked up. Her eyes collided with a man’s. A man whose expression was a devastating mix of panic and fury—so sharp it overshadowed even his impossibly sculpted features. “Where is Manny?” he barked, demanding an answer from her. Lila blinked, confused. “Who is Manny?” “You found him?” He ignored her question, stepping closer, his voice clipped and urgent. Only then did she understand. Manny—he meant the injured boy. And this man must be… his father. “Uh—yes. Manny is inside the operating room.” “What did you do to him?” He grabbed her wrist so violently she felt pain shoot up her arm, as if her bones might snap. “What are you talking about? Let go of me!” She struggled, brow furrowed, but his height and strength dwarfed hers. He loomed over her like a furious beast, eyes blazing. “What kind of normal person goes into a flowerbed?” he growled. “You’re being completely unreasonable! There are security cameras everywhere—why don’t you check those before accusing me?” Just then, the operating room doors burst open. “Family of Manny Kade?” “That’s me.” The man finally released her. “The child has lost a significant amount of blood. He needs an immediate transfusion. The blood bank has no Rh-negative. Are you Rh-negative?” “I’m not,” the man murmured. “I am,” Lila said. “You’re Manny’s mother?” “No—I found him in the flowerbed.” She flicked a glance at the man’s stunned expression, her voice steady despite the tremor lingering in her bones. “Anyway, I’m Rh-negative. I’ll do it.” “Are you certain?” The medical staff’s skeptical gaze darted between her and the man. “You understand blood donation carries risks to your health, don’t you?” “I do.” It was the truth—who didn’t? But she hadn’t the time to dwell on what those risks might be: a dizzy spell later, a night of fitful sleep, maybe even a dull ache in her arm. None of it mattered. Not when she could still see the boy in her mind—small, motionless, the dark stain of blood seeping into the soil like a wound in the earth. If you’d seen him too, she thought, you wouldn’t have hesitated. No one could. “Prepare for transfusion. Take her to room three.” Lila followed without hesitation. She lay on the narrow cot as a nurse swabbed her arm and inserted the needle. Warmth slowly drained from her veins, filling the tubing that led to Manny’s fragile body. Just let the boy live, she prayed silently. Outside the room, the man—Adrian Kade—paced like a trapped storm. His jaw was carved in tension, his fists clenched, anger radiating off him in waves. But beneath that fury was something else: Fear. After a few minutes, he barked into his phone, “Pull the security footage. Every angle of the garden. Now.” That voice was ice, sharp enough to cut. It didn’t take long. His secretary hurried over with a tablet. Adrian snatched it and watched. His expression shifted—first confusion, then shock, then something like shame. The footage showed Manny slipping away from his nanny, climbing down a back staircase, and running to the garden. He scaled a large tree, clinging to the branches as if hiding from someone. Then—an abrupt slip. A fall. The sharp edge of the flowerbed. No attacker. No threat. No Lila. Only a terrified child trying not to be found. Adrian’s breath left him in a rough exhale. His spine straightened. The muscle in his jaw ticked. He had been wrong—violently wrong. Lila’s hands shook as the nurse disconnected the IV. The transfusion had been long and taxing, and her exhaustion pressed against her chest like a weight. She tried to stand, but her legs wobbled violently. “Careful,” the nurse warned. “You might feel dizzy.” “I… I’m fine,” Lila insisted, but her voice cracked under the tension. Before she could take another step, the world tilted. She stumbled forward, her vision blurring. A firm grip shot out, catching her by the waist before she could fall. She froze. It was Adrian. His face was tense, eyes dark and unreadable. He didn’t soften, didn’t even flinch at her sudden closeness. His hand held her with the strictness of authority, not affection. “Let go—” she began, but he cut her off. “Don’t move like that,” he said sharply, his voice low and commanding. “You could collapse. I won’t let that happen here.” She swallowed hard, aware of how close they were. Her cheek brushed against his chest. He didn’t flinch; he didn’t step back, just kept her upright, his grip firm, almost mechanical. “I… I can manage,” she protested, though her legs shook. “Then manage slowly,” he said curtly, his dark eyes scanning the room as if she were a tool to be used correctly. “Where are you heading?” “The garden.” Lila’s pulse raced—not from the blood donation, but from the tension between them. Every accidental brush, every rigid adjustment of his hands. He was so cold, so controlled… yet so impossibly close. Step by step, she followed his lead out of the operating area. His hand on her back didn’t linger more than necessary, but the pressure was enough to steady her. When they reached a chair, he finally released her. “What do you want?” Adrian asked unexpectedly. The question caught Lila off guard, and she frowned, “What?” “You saved my nephew,” he stated nonchalantly, “name your price.”