His lips trembled as he watched Emily carefully wipe Zion’s head with a soft cloth, cleaning every little fold of his skin with extraordinary tenderness.
This wasn’t just a bath.
It was love.
But Marcus’s pride was stronger than the moment.
When Emily wrapped the baby in a fluffy towel and kissed his damp curls, Marcus stepped forward.
“What do you think you’re doing?” his deep voice thundered.
Emily jumped, nearly dropping the baby. Her face turned pale the moment she saw him.
“Sir—I—I can explain,” she stammered, clutching Zion protectively against her chest.
“The nanny is on leave… I thought you weren’t coming back until Friday.”
“I wasn’t!” Marcus snapped. “But here I am—and I find you bathing my son where people wash dishes!”
Emily trembled but didn’t let go of the baby.
“He had a fever last night, sir,” she whispered. “He was crying nonstop. I couldn’t find the thermometer, and there was no one else here. I remembered that a warm bath sometimes helps babies calm down… I was going to inform you.”
Fever.
The word hit Marcus like a freight train.
His son had been sick—and he hadn’t even known.
Yet instead of guilt, anger rushed in.