NANNY PAULA'S POV
I stood frozen at the door.
My throat itched, burning, as the echo of her words repeated in my head like a curse.
“I can never be the child of a poor, wretched nanny.”
I pressed my nails deep into my palms, hard….forcing myself not to break down right there in front of her. She stood tall, chin lifted, eyes blazing, so sure of the hatred she carried.
She didn’t even know the truth.
She didn’t know anything.
I swallowed the ache clawing up my throat and turned away before she saw the tremble in my hands. Each slow step felt like walking underwater, heavy and suffocating.
As I passed Amara’s room, I heard her muffled sobs through the door.
My heart squeezed painfully.
This is my fault.
It all started with me.
The root of everything choking this house… was me.
I
