Andrew couldn’t stand watching another woman care for his son. Every time a nanny picked Noah up or comforted him, it felt wrong—because those arms should have belonged to Olivia.
But Olivia was gone.
And Noah still needed someone.
That Monday morning, Andrew walked downstairs adjusting his tie. The silence inside the house felt heavy, as it did every day. There had once been music, laughter, and warmth in those rooms. Now there was only quiet.
“Mr. Carter,” said Elena, the housekeeper, appearing from the kitchen while drying her hands. “Noah already had breakfast. He’s in his room playing.”
“Alone?” Andrew asked with a slight frown.
“Yes, sir. Just like you requested. No television, no tablet. Only toys.”
Andrew nodded, ignoring the uncomfortable knot in his chest. It was better this way, he told himself. Noah needed to grow up strong and independent. The world wasn’t gentle with weak people.
“What time does the new nanny arrive?” he asked.
“At ten. Her name is Grace.”
Andrew checked his watch. There were forty minutes before he needed to leave for work. Enough time to explain the rules.
He walked upstairs and pushed open Noah’s bedroom door.