My Child's Life Stolen by the Nanny's Child

The next morning, Jessie wet the bed.

Her small body trembled, and tears welled up in her eyes. She clutched my sleeve and whimpered, “Mom, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even drink milk last night—I don’t know why this happened!”

I gently pulled her into my arms, stroking her back. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Don’t be scared.”

The moment Elsa found out, she frowned in clear annoyance. “She’s almost four years old and still wetting the bed? What a hassle.”

As she yanked the sheets off the bed, she shot Jessie a sharp glare.

Jessie flinched, shrinking into me, her tiny fingers gripping my shirt.

I turned to Elsa, my gaze cold. “Aunt Elsa, you have a grandson, don’t you? His name is Jack. He goes to the same kindergarten as Jessie, right?”

Elsa stiffened, her expression momentarily blank. Then, as if realizing what she had just admitted, her face darkened. “How… how did you know?”

I crossed my arms and continued, my tone calm but laced with steel. “The elite kindergarten Jessie attends has a steep tuition fee. Your daughter must be well-off to afford it. So tell me, Aunt Elsa—if she’s so rich, why are you working as a nanny?”

Elsa’s expression faltered. She forced a tight smile. “I’ve worked all my life. Sitting at home doing nothing just isn’t for me.”

I held her gaze for a long moment before saying nothing more.

Today was the weekend, so I took Jessie to the newly opened Capybara Theme Park.

On the way there, I called the police.

Elsa’s abuse and threats toward Jessie were unforgivable. But even if I set that aside, the fact that she had stolen from my home was enough to put her behind bars for years.

At the amusement park, Jessie ran from one attraction to another, her laughter bright and unrestrained. Watching the pure joy on her face, I felt my heart soften.

My sweet baby girl. No one will ever hurt you again. I’ll make sure of it.

While Jessie was happily riding the carousel, my phone rang. It was my secretary.

“Ms. Miller, I wanted to update you on a few company matters,” she began.

I cut her off. “I’m at the amusement park with my daughter today. Work matters from the branch can wait.”

There was a brief silence before she replied, “Understood, Ms. Miller. But there’s something urgent—our financial director found discrepancies in the branch’s accounts. Mr. Durham is in charge there. Should we inform him first?”

My expression hardened. “No need. Tell the financial director to personally conduct an audit. If any irregularities are found, report them directly in the next morning meeting.”

After ending the call, I clenched my phone tightly, my anger simmering.

I had entrusted Al with managing the branch. He had always complained about not having a platform to showcase his skills—how he didn’t want people thinking he was just a man riding on his wife’s success.

Yet here we were.

Less than a year since the branch was established, and there was already a financial issue.

If Al weren’t my husband, I would have fired him immediately without hesitation.

Just then, my phone rang again. It was Al.

So, he had already heard about the audit. Was he calling to plead with me, desperate to save face before the company meeting?

I answered, fully prepared to ask about the financial mess at the branch.

But before I could say a word, Al’s furious voice blasted through the receiver.

“Rosa Miller, have you lost your mind?” he shouted.

“Did you seriously call the cops on Aunt Elsa?”

“What the hell did she ever do to you? Why would you have her arrested?”

“Come home right now! The police are here, and they’re refusing to leave. You need to fix this mess immediately!”