The Nanny's Secret Heir

Chapter 3: What They Know

“Family emergency,” Elena blurts out, and she instantly regrets it. Too quick, too pat, she’s clearly practiced this line before.

Damian’s gaze doesn’t budge. He doesn’t even blink. “Funny. Your face didn’t seem so worried a minute ago.”

“My face does what it wants,” she snaps, “but I need to take this call.”

Damian steps in. “Ms. Reyes”

“It’s my mother.” She can’t stop her voice from shaking on that word, and the sound of it makes her cringe. She hates that Damian hears it. “She’s sick. I need two minutes.”

He hesitates, just a flicker of uncertainty. Not trust, exactly, but it’s enough.

“Two minutes,” he says. “Keep the kitchen door open.”

She doesn’t stick around for more. She’s already moving, already dialing, phone pressed to her ear before she’s even out of his sight.

Her mom picks her up right away.

“Mom. What’s going on? Which agency?”

“The adoption agency.” Her mother’s voice is low and hurried, all nerves. “They called this morning. Said there was a data breach. Old case files. Wanted to double-check your identity.”

Elena stops moving. Backs up against the wall.

“That case closed five years ago, Mom. It was sealed. Why would they need to confirm anything?”

“I don’t know, Elena. But they had your old address, your social address, hospital name, everything. Someone’s asking questions.”

“Who?”

“They wouldn’t say. Only that it was a woman. Very polished. Very persistent.”

Elena feels her stomach drop.

“What did you tell her?”

“Nothing. I hung up.” There’s a heavy, loaded pause. “But she knew things. Things no one should still have. That file was supposed to be gone, Elena.”

Elena squeezes her eyes shut. All those years trying to disappear, and now someone’s pulling at loose threads.

“I have to go,” she says.

“Elena”

“I’ll call you tonight, I promise.”

She hangs up before her mother can start to argue.

Back in the kitchen, Damian was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching her like he'd been tracking every second she was gone.

“Everything okay?”

She forces a smile. “Just a scare. She’s alright.”

He gives her a long, hard look. The kind that doesn’t miss much.

“You’re a bad liar, Ms. Reyes.”

She almost laughs. “I’m a great liar. You just pay too much attention.”

He almost smiles at that. Almost.

“I keep track of everyone in my house. It’s how I protect my son.”

That word ‘safe’ lands wrong. It stirs up something jagged inside her.

“Speaking of,” Elena says, eager to switch gears, “where is he?”

“Playroom. Watching cartoons. I told him he’s got ten minutes before reading time.”

“Do you have reading time?”

“Every day. No matter what.” He glances away for a second, maybe embarrassed, maybe proud. “It’s the one hour he gets all of me. No calls. No work.”

It’s almost enough to break her heart.

“That’s good,” she says softly. “Kids remember that. That kind of stability sticks.”

Damian narrows his eyes, studying her. He’s not suspicious, exactly. More…curious.

“You talk like someone who’s lost a kid. Not just work with them.”

Her whole body freezes. He’s hit a nerve.

“That’s a strange thing to say after knowing me for an hour.”

He shrugs. “I notice things. Can’t help it.”

For a second, Elena wonders if he knows. If the truth is already sitting between them, and he’s just circling it, waiting to see if she’ll c***k.

She keeps steady.

“I’ve lost patients,” she says. “Pediatric ICU. No one walks away from that job unchanged.”

The truth, but not all of it.

He holds her gaze, lets it hang there, then nods, letting it go, at least for now.

“Mateo’s reading time starts at five. You can sit in, if you want. See how he does with someone new.”

“I’d like that.”

At the door, he looks over his shoulder. “Ms. Reyes.”

She stops. “Yeah?”

“Whatever you’re dealing with,” his voice lowers, softer but firmer, “It's better not touch my son.”

She swallows hard. “It won’t.”

She’s not sure if it’s true.

The playroom is warm and bright, bins of toys lined up perfectly, a mountain of pillows by the window makes a cozy reading spot.

Mateo’s already there, curled up with a picture book. He lights up when he sees her, an actual smile, no holding back.

“You came back!”

“Told you I would.”

“The last one said that, too.” Shrugs, small shoulders, matter-of-fact. “She lied.”

Elena feels something c***k inside. She settles down beside him, words gentle. Close, but not too close.

“I don’t lie to kids,” she says. “Grown-ups, sometimes. Never kids.”

Mateo gives her one of those painfully earnest looks, like his whole life is hanging on her answer.

“Pinky promise?”

He sticks out his pinky, tiny and certain.

Elena’s throat catches, but she wraps her finger around his.

“Pinky promise.”

Behind her, Damian watches from the doorway, phone forgotten, face unreadable. He notices the way Mateo leans right into her, like he’s known her forever.

“Mateo,” Damian starts, voice slow. “Has anyone ever told you what you look like?”

His phone blares, slicing right through the air. The moment breaks.

He glances at the screen. Whatever he was about to say disappears as his walls come right back up.

“I have to take this,” he mutters, already leaving.

Elena’s heart still thundered in her chest. If anything, it’s faster now because she knows exactly what he almost said, and some part of her wanted him to say it out loud.

She hears his voice in the hall, tense.

“Mother. This isn’t a good time.”

She goes ice-cold.

Mother.

Through the door, she watched him pace, jaw clenched, phone wedged to his ear.

“What do you mean you’re already downstairs?” His voice is sharper. “I didn’t approve of the visit.”

He stops walking dead in his tracks.

“What do you mean you already met her?”

He looks up, finds Elena through the open door. Over Mateo’s head.

And in his face the suspicion is gone. What’s left is worse. A warning, cold and unmistakable.