Chapter 1 - The Glass Walls of Vlysse
Marcus Delgado was thirty years old and had everything money could buy. A three-story mansion in Vlysse. Imported cars. A bank account that grew every month. But no fortune could give him back what he lost eight months ago—the piece that vanished when his wife Victoria died in an accident.
Now he lived alone with Ben, his three-year-old son, a boy with huge eyes who resembled his mother more each day. And that resemblance was a dagger in Marcus's heart every morning.
"I need another nanny," he had told his assistant two days ago. She was the thirteenth in eight months. Marcus always found reasons to dismiss them. Arrived late. Used the wrong tone with Ben. Simply failed to inspire trust.
The truth was more complicated. He couldn't bear to see another woman caring for his son. Every hug a nanny gave Ben shattered him—because that hug should come from Victoria. But Victoria was gone, and Ben needed someone.
That Monday morning, Marcus walked downstairs adjusting his tie. The silence hit him as always. Before there had been laughter, music, life. Now only echoes.
"Mr. Delgado." Maria, the housekeeper, appeared, wiping her hands. "Ben has already had breakfast. He's in his room playing alone."
Marcus frowned. "Yes, sir. As you requested. No television, no tablet, just his toys."
Marcus nodded, ignoring the small knot in his stomach. It was better this way. Ben needed to learn independence early. The world wasn't kind to the weak. "What time does the new nanny arrive?" "At ten. A certain Pia McKenzie." Marcus checked his watch. He had forty minutes before leaving for the office. Enough to set the rules.
He went up to Ben's room. His son was on the rug, surrounded by blocks, building something that looked like a tower. "Good morning, Ben." The boy looked up. Those hazel eyes—identical to Victoria's—looked at him cautiously. "Good morning, Daddy."
Marcus sat on the bed, not on the floor next to him. "A new nanny is coming today. Her name is Pia." Ben nodded slowly. He was used to it. Nannies came and went like the seasons. "I need you to be well behaved." "I'm always well behaved, Daddy." And it was true. Ben was quiet. Almost too quiet for his three years. He didn't throw tantrums. Didn't cry. Didn't ask for anything. Sometimes Marcus wondered if that was normal. "I know, son. You're a good boy."
Ben smiled a little—a small smile that disappeared almost immediately. Marcus wanted to say more. Wanted to hug him, ask how he felt, whether he missed his mom. But the words got stuck as always. "I'm leaving. See you tonight." "Bye, Daddy."
And just like that, Marcus left the room, closed the door behind him, and leaned against the hallway wall, breathing deeply. Why was it so difficult? Why did every interaction with his son feel like walking on broken glass?
He was about to leave when the doorbell rang. It was half past nine—half an hour early. Marcus opened the door with a frown. Unpunctuality was a serious offense, but arriving too early also showed a lack of respect for his time. In front of him stood a woman of about twenty-nine, brown hair tied back, no excessive makeup, clean jeans, a white shirt. She carried a worn backpack. "Good morning. I'm Pia McKenzie." Her voice was soft but firm. She looked directly into his eyes without looking down.
"You're early. The appointment was at ten." "I know. Apologies. The bus arrived earlier than expected, and I preferred to wait here instead of wandering the neighborhood."
At least she was honest. Marcus opened the door completely. Pia entered, looking around with contained curiosity—no astonishment at the luxurious house, no intimidation, just calm observation. She had references. Three families. Good comments. Two years caring for young children. "Why did you leave that job?" "The family moved to Spain. They offered to take me, but I have responsibilities here." "What kind?" A brief pause. Something crossed her eyes—pain, perhaps, or worry. "I care for my mother. She's ill." "I'm sorry." "Thank you."
Silence settled between them. Marcus continued. "My son is three. He lost his mother eight months ago. He's a quiet child." "Too quiet," Pia said—and it wasn't a question.
"The rules are simple." He took out a printed sheet. Strict schedules. No sweets between meals. Maximum one hour of educational television. No tablets. Structured activities. Above all, professionalism. "He's not your friend. He's your responsibility." Pia took the sheet and read it carefully. Her expression didn't change, but Marcus saw her fingers tighten slightly around the paper. "Any problem?" "No, sir. But I have a question." "Go ahead." "May I hug him?"
The question took Marcus by surprise. "What?" "Ben. If he needs it—if he falls, or gets scared—may I hug him? I don't see it on the list."
Something tense moved in Marcus's chest. Why did that question bother him so much? "I suppose so. If necessary." "And if it's not necessary—but he asks for it?" "Why would he ask for it if it's not necessary?" Pia looked directly at him. "Because sometimes children need affection without a reason. Just because they're children." There was something in the way she said it. Not a challenge. Not a plea. Just the truth, spoken calmly.
"Do what you deem appropriate," Marcus replied, colder than he intended. "But remember—you're here to look after him. Not to replace his mother." "I'm not here to replace anyone, Mr. Delgado. I'm here to care for a child who lost his mom. There's a difference."
Marcus clenched his jaw. "I've had twelve nannies before you. All promised to follow the rules. None lasted more than a month." Pia stood, holding his gaze. "With all due respect, I don't know the circumstances of the previous nannies. But what I do know is that every child deserves to be cared for with dignity and affection—not just rules. If that's a problem for you, perhaps I'm not the right person for this job."
The silence was dense. Marcus wasn't used to being spoken to like that. He should dismiss her right now, before she started. But something stopped him—the conviction in her eyes, the weariness of looking for nanny number fourteen, or perhaps, in some buried corner of his heart, the knowledge that she was right.
"You're hired. Start now." For the first time, Pia smiled. Small, but genuine. "Thank you, Mr. Delgado."
Marcus picked up his briefcase, then stopped at the door. "Pia. Ben is all I have left. If anything happens to him—if he suffers in any way under your care—" "Nothing will happen to him," Pia interrupted, firm. "You have my word."
In the car, on the way to the office, he couldn't get her out of his head. This woman threatened his control—because she didn't need his approval to do well. He took out his phone and dialed a saved contact: Premier Security Systems. Cameras. Discreet cameras. Throughout the house. Tonight, after seven. Money wasn't an issue.
May you like
He leaned back in the seat, watching city traffic crawl. A small voice in his head—one that sounded suspiciously like Victoria—whispered: "Who are you trying to convince, Marcus—yourself?" He ignored it, as he had learned to ignore so many things in eight months.
That night, the technicians came. Tiny cameras in smoke detectors. A clock in the living room. Invisible ceiling corners. Eight small windows on the laptop feed. Audio, high definition. Perfect. Now he could hear every word. "It's for his safety," he told the empty room. But Victoria's voice whispered: "Or are you afraid she'll do what you can't?" He drank his whiskey and turned off the lights.
