Getting A Mom: Baby Sitting His Daughter

Chapter 5

(The Warren Manifesto)

The door to Mia’s suite swung open, and Pearl froze on the threshold. She had seen the living room, but this… this was a kingdom.

The room was a vast expanse of royal purple, larger than the entire apartment Pearl shared with Ella. A queen-sized bed sat like an island in the center, draped in a lavender duvet so plush it looked like a cloud. At the foot of the bed lay a massive purple teddy bear, its glass eyes reflecting the glow of a wall-mounted television that could rival a small cinema screen. To the left, a walk-in closet stood ajar, revealing rows of designer labels and a shoe rack that would make a socialite weep.

Pearl forced a bright, morning-show smile. Focus, Pearl. Breathe. Don’t look like you’re overwhelmed.

“Morning, Mia,” she said.

Mia didn’t look up from her vanity. “Finally. I thought you’d decided the commute wasn’t worth the trouble.” Her tiny reflection in the mirror looked far too weary for a child—like a miniature general evaluating her troops.

Pearl’s smile twitched. Almost. But not enough to seem scared… “Am I late?”

“Almost. But since you’re here, I need to get ready for school. You’ll be handling that from now on.” Mia stood, smoothing her silk pajamas like she was straightening a royal decree.

“Let’s do it then,” Pearl said, masking irritation with a calm tone. Act normal. Don’t let her see panic.

“You have a lot to learn,” Mia noted, her voice eerily calm. She walked to her desk, picked up a crisp white sheet of paper, and handed it to Pearl like a legal summons.

Pearl blinked. What now? She took the paper, her eyes widening as she scanned the title: MIA WARREN: MANDATORY WANTS AND NEEDS.

1. You must sing for me before I go to bed.

2. A good morning peck and a good night peck are non-negotiable.

3. You will prepare my breakfast once in a while (I dislike the chef’s omelets).

4. I hate noise.

5. I hate repeating my words.

6. Do not touch my ears. Only Dad is allowed to do that.

7. I hate dirt. I expect you to be immaculate.

8. You will escort me to Dad every morning for my morning kiss.

Pearl stopped at number eight, her heart skipping a beat. Every morning? And there are at least twenty more…

“I think you know what to do next,” Mia said, hopping onto her bed and crossing her legs. “My bathroom flip-flops.”

“Where are they?”

“In the inner closet,” Mia directed with a sharp pointed finger.

Pearl stepped into the closet, trying to ignore the miniature designer paradise surrounding her. Focus. Get the shoes. Survive. She grabbed a pair of purple velvet flip-flops and hurried back.

“Are you ready?” Pearl asked.

“We are ready,” Mia corrected, a ghost of a smile appearing. Then she stopped and fixed Pearl with a stare that could cut glass. “I heard that most smiles people wear are fake. Are yours real, Nanny? Or are you just a good actress?”

Pearl felt her chest tighten. Oh no. Not the trust test already. Before she could answer, Mia swept past her and headed for the door, leaving Pearl standing in stunned silence.

They reached the heavy, reinforced doors of the Master Suite. Mia pushed them open without knocking, triggering a soft, melodic security chime.

“Who’s there?” a voice barked from within.

“It’s Mia, Dad.” She signaled for Pearl to follow.

The air inside Ace’s room was different—scented with expensive sandalwood and the sharp edge of power. Ace was at his mirror, adjusting a silk tie. He looked lethal in a charcoal suit.

“Good morning, Dad,” Mia sang. Ace turned, the ice melting instantly as he scooped her up. He kissed her cheek, eyes softening in a way they never did for anyone else.

“Morning, sir,” Pearl said, bowing her head slightly. Keep it neutral. Don’t make him notice fear—or awe.

Ace’s gaze shifted to Pearl. The warmth evaporated. “Are you handling her perfectly?”

“Pretty good, sir,” Pearl replied evenly. Lie if you have to. Just survive.

“You’re going to be late for school, Mia,” Ace said, setting her down.

Mia’s face fell instantly. She sat on the edge of his bed, crossing her arms. “You promised to take me today.”

“I didn’t promise. I said ‘soon,’ Mia.”

“Another failed promise,” she groaned, voice thick with practiced disappointment.

Ace sighed, a man defeated by his own heart. “I always keep my word, Mia. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“Fine.” Mia hopped up, mood switching back to business. She stopped and looked back at Pearl, who was still taking in the sheer opulence. “Are you coming? Or planning to stay here and stare? Maybe you want to move in?”

Pearl’s face flushed. Just breathe. Don’t answer like a fool. “Oops! I’m so sorry—”

“Mia,” Ace interrupted, voice gentle but firm, “you shouldn’t talk to your nanny that way. Not if you want her to stay.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Mia exclaimed, throwing her hands up before storming out.

Pearl caught Ace’s eye for a split second—a moment of shared exhaustion—before turning to follow. Focus. She’s right. Don’t flop. Don’t stare. Just survive.

Then, as she stepped into the hallway, a shadow shifted in the corner—a figure watching from the security panel screens. Pearl’s stomach twisted. So it begins…