Something was flying toward my head.
I didn’t duck.
I reached up and caught it mid-air.
A small plush dinosaur.
Thrown by a six-year-old boy leaning over a second-floor railing, grinning like he’d just won a game I didn’t know we were playing.
His three older brothers stood frozen beside him, waiting to see what I would do.
Below me, Adrian Vale—one of the most powerful men in Connecticut—stood watching with the same cold calculation he probably used in boardrooms.
This wasn’t a welcome.
It was a test.
And I had seventy-two hours to pass it, or my younger sister wouldn’t get the surgery that could save her life.
My name is Nia Carter, and I had just walked into a job that fourteen other nannies couldn’t survive.
Four boys. No mother. A father the internet couldn’t decide was a philanthropist or something far more dangerous.
Eleven months. Fourteen caregivers. The longest lasted eleven weeks.
Two required medical attention after “household accidents.”
One involving a remote-controlled car. Another involving a model airplane.
Luke, the youngest, had pulled a fire alarm because someone took his tablet.
There hadn’t even been a fire.
Adrian told me his sons lied, fought, destroyed property, refused tutors, and occasionally locked staff in closets.
He called them angry.
I saw four grieving boys who lost their mother four years ago and had been punishing every adult who walked through the door ever since.
But I couldn’t tell him that.
I couldn’t tell him why I was really there.
Because the agency was paying me more for three days than most nannies made in two months, and every dollar was going toward my sister’s medical bills.
I just had to survive.
So when Luke threw that toy, I caught it.
When all four boys went silent, staring down at me like I’d just broken some unspoken rule, I didn’t flinch.
I looked up at Luke and said calmly, “Good arm. But we’re going to talk about what we throw and where we throw it.”
His smile faltered.
Adrian uncrossed his arms.
For the first time since I’d arrived, the house went completely still.
