The Mafia's Nanny

Chapter 4

Amara stirred awake before the sun even peeked over the horizon. Her eyes fluttered open in her warm bed, cocooned in fresh linens and soft pillows that still didn’t bring her comfort as much as she’d expected. The room was quiet, luxurious compared to her old one at the orphanage. Still, she barely slept a wink. Nerves had tangled in her stomach all night, the kind that came with starting something new, important, and entirely different from everything she’d ever known.

She slid off the bed and padded barefoot across the polished floor to her small open closet. Hanging neatly was the pink uniform she was told to wear, not exactly a nanny dress, more like medical scrubs, but clean, simple, and practical. She slipped into it and tied her hair in a neat bun. As she glanced at herself in the mirror, she offered herself a small nod of encouragement. "You can do this, Amara. One step at a time."

On her small desk, she picked up her brown leather notebook, well-worn and nearly filled with notes from her years caring for children. She flipped to a blank page and scribbled the date and a heading: "Day 1 with Seraphina Rivera."

Her notes, she hoped, would help her understand the girl more easily. It had always worked with the children in the orphanage.

The mansion was already beginning to stir. In the kitchen, one chef is busy arranging a simple plate for Seraphina, a glass of warm milk, fruit slices, and tiny triangle sandwiches. A meal specifically suited to children. Something familiar, something comforting. Other breakfast items were being prepared by the professional chef and kitchen staff.

"Done,"

"Hi, can I cut the strawberries?" The chef simply nod.

She took the knife and cut the strawberries. She then align the strawberries into a heart shape, when she heard footsteps. A tall figure entered the kitchen, composed and sharp in a charcoal gray suit. Damien Rivera.

He gave her a brief nod. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Mr. Rivera," she replied with a smile, slightly surprised that he was already dressed.

He glanced at the meal tray, one brow slightly raised. "You're preparing Seraphina's meal personally?"

"Oh no, sir. Just cutting the strawberries, I just thought... I wanted to make sure she started the day with something she'd enjoy."

He didn’t reply, but he didn’t criticize either. He merely sat down at the end of the long dining table.

Moments later, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway echoed in the stillness. Then the front door opened with a thud, followed by the hurried patter of tiny feet. Amara turned toward the entrance just in time to see a young girl, no more than six, rush in with glossy brown curls bouncing behind her.

"Daddy!" the girl called, her voice bright and eager.

Damien stood just in time to catch her as she flung herself into his arms. He lifted her up and hugged her tightly. "Good morning, princess."

Amara watched quietly, her heart warming at the sight. Seraphina. So full of energy.

Behind them came a line of bodyguards. Two took their posts at the doors while another escorted a woman inside, elegant, poised, and intimidating. The woman wore a designer dress and heels that clicked purposefully against the marble floor. Her dark hair was pulled into a sleek bun, and her lips were painted the deepest crimson. She had an Italian air to her, both in style and presence.

Amara instinctively stood straighter.

Damien turned toward Amara. "Seraphina, this is Amara, your new nanny."

Amara smiled and gave a small wave to the little girl, who promptly hid behind Damien’s leg.

Then her eyes shifted to the woman.

"And you must be Mrs. Rivera," Amara said politely, nodding. "Seraphina is such a fine kid. Her beauty, she must have gotten it from you."

The woman blinked, then burst into a laugh.

"Me?" she asked, hand on her chest.

Amara nodded, still smiling, though suddenly uncertain.

The woman smirked. "I am a Mrs. Rivera, yes. But not the Mrs. Rivera."

Amara's smile faltered. "I... Oh, I’m sorry."

Damien shook his head, amused. "That’s my mother."

Amara’s eyes widened as her cheeks colored. "Oh. I didn’t realize.. I mean... she doesn’t look..."

"Old enough?" Damien’s mother cut in with a laugh. "I like this one, Damien. She’s sweet. Nice meeting you iha, I'm Veronica Beatrice Felloi Rivera, you can call me Veron."

Breakfast began with everyone taking their seats. The table was large but not cold. The kitchen staff served hot dishes while Amara placed Seraphina’s plate in front of her.

The child didn’t speak a word. She kept glancing at Amara, then quickly looked away. She sat right beside Damien, nearly glued to his side.

"Go on, try your food," Damien encouraged.

Amara crouched beside Seraphina with a gentle smile. "I made the fruit heart just for you. Do you like strawberries?"

The girl didn’t answer. She just picked one piece up and nibbled on it.

"Drink your milk, sweetheart," Damien's mother prompted from across the table.

"You need it to grow strong," Damien added.

Seraphina pushed the cup away.

"Come on, Sera," Damien urged.

"I don't like it," the little girl whispered.

Amara tried to meet her eyes. "It’s okay. Maybe just a little sip?"

The girl shook her head.

Damien's mother sighed. "Children. Always picky."

Once breakfast ended, and the staff began clearing the table, Damien left the room to take a phone call. Amara gently led Seraphina into the playroom, where toys and books were neatly arranged.

She kneeled in front of the little girl again.

"Hi, Seraphina. I know we just met. But I’m really happy to be your new nanny. I hope we can be friends."

The girl glanced up at her briefly. Then mumbled, "Where's Miss Jessa?"

"Jessa?"

"My Nanny."

"I… I don’t know. But I’m here now, and I promise I’ll take good care of you."

There was silence for a while before Amara asked gently, "You really don’t like milk, huh?"

Seraphina pouted. "It makes my tummy rumble. Then I need to poopoo."

Amara blinked. Then she slowly took out her notebook and scribbled down a note.

Seraphina - avoids milk. Complains of stomach upset after drinking it. Possible lactose intolerance?

She closed the notebook and looked at the little girl with a soft smile.

"Thank you for telling me, sweetheart. That’s really important. We’ll figure it out, okay? No more rumbly tummies."

Seraphina offered a hesitant nod.

As Amara watched her, she wondered how many things were misunderstood about the little girl simply because no one took the time to ask.

---

After breakfast, the day went by with quiet moments between Amara and Seraphina. The little girl had slowly begun to relax in her presence. They played with blocks, read a picture book, and watched the birds from her balcony window. After lunch, Seraphina took a nap, her tiny breaths evening out as she cuddled her stuffed rabbit.

Amara gently tucked the blanket over her and quietly stepped away. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes landing on the notebook she had left on the bedside table. There were already pages filled with small observations. But one note kept circling her mind: "Possibly lactose intolerant?"

She made her way to the head maid’s office, a quiet room tucked near the staff hallway. She knocked gently.

"Yes?" The head maid’s voice came through, curt as always.

Amara stepped in. The head maid, in her usual starched black and white uniform, raised an eyebrow at her unexpected visitor.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, eyeing Amara from head to toe. "I hope you're not quitting on your first day."

Amara shook her head quickly. "No, ma’am. This is something important. I wanted to ask about Seraphina’s food allergies. I just want to be careful."

The head maid folded her hands on the desk. "Food allergies?"

"Yes, ma’am. I wanted to know if she has any known allergies."

The head maid pursed her lips and thought for a moment. "None that I know of. The young miss doesn’t have any food allergies."

"Is she lactose intolerant, by any chance?" Amara asked carefully.

Again, a pause. "No. At least, we’ve never been told so. She drinks milk every morning. Why do you ask?"

"She mentioned that her tummy rumbles every time she drinks milk," Amara said, "I just want to make sure we’re not overlooking something."

The head maid gave a small, considering nod. "Noted. But I believe her doctor would’ve mentioned it if there was a problem."

"Thank you," Amara said softly, and left the room.

Back in Seraphina’s room, she sat near the child’s bed again. She pulled out her notebook and flipped back to the page. Her pencil tapped the words: "Lactose intolerant?"

She was circling the note for the third time when she heard footsteps. Damien’s tall frame appeared by the door. His eyes briefly flickered to his sleeping daughter before landing on Amara and her notebook.

"Something wrong?" he asked, stepping inside.

Amara stood up respectfully. "Sir, I just wanted to talk to you about something. It’s been bothering me."

He folded his arms and nodded. "Go ahead."

"Does Seraphina have any food allergies?" she asked carefully. "Even mild ones? Sometimes, they can be dangerous, even life-threatening."

Damien’s brows furrowed. He paused to think. "No. At least not that I know of. She’s had regular check-ups. Nothing was ever brought up."

"Thankfully not allergies, but something else." Amara hesitated, then spoke softly, "I asked her earlier why she didn’t want to drink milk. She told me it makes her tummy rumble and sometimes she needs to..." She trailed off, unsure if she should say "poopoo" to a man like Damien.

But he got the point. His expression shifted slightly, thoughtful.

"You think it might be lactose intolerance?" he asked.

Amara nodded slowly. "It’s just a possibility. I’m not saying it is, but maybe switching her milk could help. Maybe try almond milk or oat milk, just to see."

Damien nodded. "You’re thorough. That’s good. We’ll talk to her pediatrician. And in the meantime, try giving her something else."

Relief spread across Amara’s face. "Thank you, sir."

"And thank you for paying attention. Seraphina’s health is important. You did good."

He gave her a short nod and glanced once more at his daughter before stepping out.

Amara looked at the little girl, still peacefully sleeping, and couldn’t help but smile. This wasn’t just a job. This little girl needed someone to truly care. And Amara was ready to be that someone.