Chapter 1 - I marched to the nursery ready to fire my new nanny after my twin daughters woke the entire house with terrified screams.
But the moment I opened the door, the woman I blamed for everything was giving my girls the first genuine laughter they'd shared since my wife died—and I realized I'd been completely wrong about her.
The glowing clock beside my bed read 2:03 a.m. when the cries ripped through my mansion.
The sound wasn't ordinary fussing. It was the kind of desperate screaming that sent me running before I was fully awake.
Ever since my wife passed away, my four-month-old twins, Maisie and Rosie, had barely slept through the night.
They rejected every caregiver I hired.
One nanny quit after forty-eight hours. Another lasted less than a week before breaking down in tears.
No amount of money, therapy, or expert advice could fill the hole grief had left in our family.
Elise Navarro had somehow survived almost two weeks.
As I stormed down the hallway, I was certain her time was over.
My house displayed wealth everywhere—rare artwork, polished marble floors, antique firearms—but none of it could hide how empty it had become.
The girls cried again.
I rehearsed the speech in my head.
I'd pay Elise generously, have security drive her home before sunrise, and call the agency in the morning.
She seemed compassionate, but compassion wasn't enough to heal my daughters.
I grabbed the nursery doorknob and walked in.
Then I stopped cold.
Instead of chaos, soft lamplight filled the room.
Elise stood in the middle of the floor wearing bright yellow rubber cleaning gloves and oversized headphones.
She waddled like a penguin, crossed her eyes, made the gloves "argue" with each other, spun in clumsy circles, and ended every performance with an exaggerated theatrical bow.
It looked completely ridiculous.
And it was working.
Maisie was clapping against the crib rails while Rosie bounced so hard her mattress squeaked.
Their tear-streaked faces had transformed into wide smiles, and their laughter echoed through the room like something I'd almost forgotten existed.
Suddenly I wasn't in the nursery anymore.
I was remembering my wife dancing barefoot in our kitchen, wearing one of my oversized shirts and singing horribly into a spatula while the girls giggled from their high chairs.
At the time, I believed moments like that would last forever.
They didn't.
Elise finally noticed me standing in the doorway.
Her smile disappeared instantly as she pulled off the headphones.
"Mr. Caruso..."
The twins fell silent, looking nervously between us.
May you like
I stepped farther into the room, unable to take my eyes off my daughters.
"What exactly is going on here?" I asked.
