Bad Nanny

I shoved the little boy aside, and he crashed hard to the ground. His face twisted in rage as he shouted at me.

"How dare you push me! You're dead! I'll tell my dad!"

I ignored his tantrum and bent down to pull my daughter into my arms.

But as I looked at him—at that boy—I realized something far worse: I wasn't even divorced from Austin, and yet he already had another woman… and even a child with her.

What cut deeper was the realization that this was the kind of life my daughter had endured in the Grant household—a life of humiliation and abuse.

"Didn't you hear me?" the boy snarled, scrambling back to his feet, his face contorted. "My dad will never let you go!"

He lunged toward me, and Isla's shrill voice rang out. "What are you bodyguards standing around for? Didn't you see Young Master Evan being bullied? Are you all dead?"

From the shadows, men in black surged forward. In an instant, three of them pinned me down, their iron grips locking my arms and legs.

Isla strode up to me with a mocking smile.

"Weren't you so fierce just now? And yet here you are, in my hands after all."

Her palm cracked across my face, sharp and stinging. Then she turned to the gathering crowd of parents, her voice dripping with venom.

"Since today's kindergarten graduation has no real program, why don't we play a little game?"

She patted my cheek lightly.

"Each of you will step forward and slap her. Anyone who refuses, or doesn't hit hard enough, is declaring themselves an enemy of the Grant family."

The parents exchanged uneasy glances. None of them wanted to be the villain, yet none dared oppose the Grant family. One by one, they approached, raising trembling hands.

"I am with the National Research Bureau!" I shouted. "Do you people have any idea of the consequences?"

Their hands froze mid-air.

Everyone knew that members of the Bureau were national treasures. To deliberately strike one was to invite prison. But opposing the Grant family was no less terrifying.

As hesitation spread, Isla burst into mocking laughter.

"You? From the National Research Bureau? Don't make me laugh. Everyone knows Bureau members never step outside without their own security detail. If you're going to lie, at least come up with a decent story."

Her words shattered the fragile pause. The crowd's fear dissolved, replaced with cruelty.

One by one, palms cracked against my face. Each blow came with mumbled excuses.

"Forgive me. I just want to survive. Blame yourself for offending the wrong people."

"You shouldn't have meddled. You're powerless and alone. Why did you have to act all righteous?"

My daughter rushed forward, sobbing, trying to shield me. But Isla kicked her away with brutal force.

Amy hit the ground hard. She looked at my swollen, bloodied face, tears streaming down her cheeks. Kneeling on the ground, she pleaded desperately, "Ethan, please, I beg you… don't let them hit her anymore…"

Her words were cut off by a sharp interruption by Isla.

"She is today's entertainment. Making everyone happy is her honor. And if you dare plead for her again, you'll spend the rest of your life locked in the basement."

The light drained from my daughter's eyes. She collapsed, broken.

Rage exploded in me.

I sank my teeth into the guard's arm, ripping free from his grasp. Using the opening, I twisted and hurled Isla to the ground. My fists rained down, blow after blow striking her face.

She shrieked, her nails clawing at my neck as she screeched, "You bitch! How dare you hit me? Kill her! Kill her now!"

As we grappled on the ground, a cold, commanding voice cut through the chaos. "What is going on here?"

Isla froze. She scrambled up, bowing low, her arrogance vanishing in an instant.

I lifted my head, and my eyes locked with Austin's.

For a moment, shock flickered across his face. His gaze swept over me again and again, as though he couldn't believe what he saw.

"Claire?" he whispered, his voice filled with disbelief. "You're… still alive?"