BILLIONAIRE'S SHADOW ( A Tale of Love, Loss & Redemption)

CHAPTER 1

(PRESENT DAY)

Tatiana's POV

“Iris????!!!!!” I screamed out of frustration when I got back from the kitchen to the balcony. I left to the kitchen to grab some ice cream from the fridge for Iris and I, only to see her tiny hands clenched into fists in the air, and slender fingers stained with faint smudges of poster colour when I got back.

The black and white polka-dotted marble floor of the balcony was decorated her a palm print of a beautiful multicoloured tree. I was instantly furious, but I masked my anger with a smile once my eyes spotted her large brown eyes. She was the exact replica of her father, my boss, Mr. Walker. Her medium-length, curly blonde hair rested on her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face. I assumed her mother was blonde because her father certainly was not.

She was giggling when she saw me and rushed to give me a hug even after I screamed her name. To think that she found that amusing was startling for me. I would have expected her to be at least remorseful for what she did, but she seemed rather unbothered, giggling and smiling.

What's funny little miss? Look at the mess you've created!?

I wanted to scold and s***k her little ass, but I couldn't bare to do that to the poor girl. I had to be emotionally intelligent about the situation. I was currently the only person Iris felt this free and lively with. I couldn't afford to ruin that, even though I still needed her to see that I was mad at her.

Iris and I have come a long way. It took a lot of patience on my part to get her to just smile. She never spoke, she usually nodded when the question she was asked required a “yes” response and shook her head when it needed a “no” response, usually when she felt like responding. Otherwise, she would scribble her reply or a question on her mind in her notebook her dad got for that purpose.

But after I realised I was losing my patience, I spoke to her as a mother would speak to her daughter. I made her understand that. I cared about her and wanted what was best for her. I was going to be there for her no matter what and treat her as my daughter-my little girl.

I decided to help her with assignments given to her by her lesson teacher, as she was homeschooled because of her current condition. I had no idea who assisted her with those before I came into the picture, since her workaholic father seemed pretty distant from her. Perhaps her previous nannies did, but I just wondered how they went about it.

I encouraged her to explore her passion and creativity through painting because I figured she had a knack for it. I had noticed this when I randomly found her drawing in her notebook which she usually scribbled in. I got her a sketchbook and a colouring book along with paint brushes and poster colours after that. Her drawings were really impressive. I gave her all the motivation I believe she needed.

All I cared about was seeing her happy, lively and carefree. Upon showing her unadulterated love, understanding and undivided attention, I won her heart. It was never easy, but it was definitely worth it. By my observation, I realised she missed out on a lot of emotional and psychological support following the untimely loss of her mother.

I guess nobody ever bothered to think about how badly she was affected because they presumed she was too young to be bothered by her mother's loss. Or maybe they did, but they just expected her to heal on her own at her own pace.

Either way, I had grown so attached to this gorgeous, cute little angel who would usually get on my nerves for being her naughty-stubborn self, but I loved her regardless. I believe she feels the same way too, because she always wants me around and hates to see me leave.

On several occasions, Cyril asked me to come over to babysit her, before she ate anything. I'll admit it was always a beautiful feeling, but at the same time, it felt sad.

Why couldn't she open up to her dad just like she had become open with me?

She didn't speak to me frequently, but she was very calm and collected around me. She only spoke to me occasionally but never spoke to anyone at all.

As much as she is not my biological daughter, I wouldn't trade anything in this world to lose our unbreakable bond. I love her to bits.

So here I was, admiring her despite my rage, as her nose twitched while she giggled. Despite the mess she had created, I couldn't help but notice her creative abilities. Her passion for painting was already evident and her remarkable palm print tree was a testament to her love for art and creativity.

I felt a mixture of sadness and happiness. The sadness was because I wished she could be more expressive.

Who knows?

She could have shared with me the inspiration behind her painting and if she wasn't in her current condition, I would have scolded her easily without any guilt. The happiness was because she was happy. I was so happy that she could at least express herself through her art.

And for that, I was charmed. She rushed towards me and held on tightly to my legs. She ended up staining my orange-laced embroidered skirt, yet I couldn't be bothered. I was no longer mad.

Suddenly, a pang of nostalgia washed over recalled when I entered her dad's office, and he first ordered me out. I had proposed working for him for 3 months, and he had guaranteed me that I wasn't going to last for over a week.

In the second month as Iris's nanny, I felt like giving up. I had lost all hope. In fact, I nearly threw in the towel because it seemed the towel was too heavy for me to carry. I was starting to believe Cyril was right. He knew his daughter better than anyone else.

How could I be so dumb to think I was capable of handling her given my little experience with children?

Iris was indeed a handful. At first, she refused to answer me whenever I spoke to her. I didn't get a nod nor did she scribble when she didn't feel like doing any of the nodding or shaking her head. She refused to eat when I offered her food. I became worried. I could have easily assumed she was just stuck up and spoiled if I hadn't known about her mother's death.

All his previous nannies were professionals, with many years of experience, yet they got fed up and quit their jobs.

What was I thinking when I offered such a proposal? I should have known there was a catch, because he gave in too easily.

He gladly accepted it because he knew I would fail. He wouldn't have rejected me at all if he had any faith in me. Our interactions showed he didn't like me.

But a little voice in my head reminded me that I was not a quitter. I had come that far for a reason. I was not going to win if I quit. Iris was a child and all I needed to do was to find her soft spot. That was when it dawned on me that she needed psychological help. I would have recommended a therapist or psychologist for her, if it hadn't been for the circumstances under which I had been hired.

Given my fair understanding of her situation, I spent ample time researching to get more insights than what I already knew. I had decided I was going to help her heal from her trauma.

In doing so, I gave her my assurance of her safety. I told her I understood how she felt, and explained to her how she wasn't to blame herself for how she felt. She gradually warmed herself up to me.

The first time I heard her speak was when she took out a bar of chocolate from the fridge, after I had placed her on the counter closer to the fridge, to grab a bottle of water. She held out the chocolate to me and I said thank you.

Then she said, “You're welcome, miss Tatiana”. At that moment, I was so tearful, I thought I was daydreaming until she repeated herself. But that was all she said that day, yet I was content with that.

In the third month, Iris and I had become inseparable. Cyril had walked into his living room one night I stayed over, and found us lying fast asleep on his Italian grey-leathered three-seater sofa. I'm sure he was beyond shocked because he never would have dreamed about a day like that. I was lying with my face facing the ceiling, while Iris was lying sideways with her head facing the open space.

He carried Iris quietly to her room and gently woke me up without saying a word. I believe I was too astonished to speak. The next day, he invited me for breakfast, which was rare because he always ate alone.

I remember how confused I was before he cleared his throat and said “Congratulations Tatiana, I hate to admit it, but you won Iris's heart, and I'm impressed. You're hired. Consider yourself my permanent staff from today”.

So what happens to my previous salaries too?

I had wanted to ask him, but I didn't dare. Losing an opportunity such as this would have been very foolish of me. Hence, I kept calm and asked this instead,

“So will I receive my salary for the following months?”

To my surprise, he didn't say a word. He dismissed himself and went to work.

But what was I supposed to say? Was he offended? Maybe I should have just held my thoughts to myself.

Anyway, that was how I ended up working for THE Almighty Cyril Walker. But, I must avow, it's admirable to see he has a soft spot for his daughter. Seeing him switch between the commanding boss to an affectionate father to Iris always warms my heart.

I've always known that there's something about him. Perhaps Iris's mother's death traumatised him so much as well.

But in what position am I to ask him that?

I had to know my place.