Later that afternoon, Emily transitioned from business CEO mode to soon-to-be-mom mode as she prepped for nanny interviews.
She sat in the living room with her notepad in hand, dressed in cozy maternity wear, her laptop open for video calls. A cup of chamomile sat on the side table—half full and already forgotten.
Oliver peeked in from the kitchen. “Need backup?”
“Just moral support. And maybe chocolate.”
He tossed her a wrapped truffle and disappeared with a wink.
The first nanny appeared on the screen—Margaret, sixty-something, with an expression so severe Emily felt like she was being evaluated.
“I believe babies should follow strict schedules from day one,” Margaret declared. “No exceptions.”
Emily blinked. “Ah… even if they cry for comfort?”
“They must learn independence.”
Ol
