But Zion wasn’t in his nursery.
And he wasn’t with the nanny.
He was with someone Marcus barely recognized.
Emily, the new cleaning girl.
She looked to be in her early twenties, wearing a simple lavender uniform with the sleeves rolled up. Her dark hair was tied into a messy bun, and despite the humble appearance, there was something gentle and warm about her.
Zion was sitting in a small plastic baby tub—placed right inside the kitchen sink.
Marcus felt his blood boil.
The maid was bathing his heir in the kitchen sink.
His jaw tightened. His protective instincts—and his pride—flared instantly. No one had permission to touch Zion without supervision, let alone a housekeeper.
He stepped forward, fists clenched, ready to unleash his fury.
But something stopped him.
Zion was laughing.
A soft, joyful giggle—pure and peaceful. A sound Marcus hadn’t heard in months.
Water splashed gently as Emily poured warm water over the baby’s tiny belly. She hummed quietly, unaware Marcus was watching from the shadows.
Marcus felt a chill run down his spine.
It was the same lullaby his late wife used to sing.