Step by step he moved down the hallway, terrified of what he might find — and even more afraid of letting himself hope again.
Five days earlier, on Monday morning, Ethan had woken to the sound of breaking glass.
He stared at the ceiling, listening. Another crash followed, then Lila’s voice — sharp and commanding even at three years old — and Sophie’s high-pitched scream that once made neighbors call the police.
6:45 a.m. The war had already started.
He knew he should get up, but his body felt heavy. This used to be the time Olivia would walk into the bedroom carrying coffee, humming softly while she poured it. She would kiss his forehead and make him smile before the day began.
Now her side of the bed was cold.
Downstairs something shattered again.
Ethan finally forced himself up and walked down the stairs like a man heading toward execution.
The kitchen looked like a disaster zone. Cereal covered the counters, milk dripped across the floor, and bowls were scattered everywhere.
On the table sat a folded note.
He already knew what it said.
“Mr. Parker, I’m so sorry. I tried, but I can’t do this anymore. Your daughters need more help than I can give.”
Another nanny gone.
He placed the letter inside a drawer already filled with others.
Eight.
He didn’t even feel angry anymore — just exhausted.
In the living room, Lila sat on the couch with her arms crossed, watching him with eyes that looked far older than three. Olivia’s eyes.
Sophie stood by the bookshelf pulling volumes down one by one and dropping them on the floor.
“She left,” Lila said flatly.
Ethan nodded.
“Good,” Sophie shouted.
“Because you bit her,” Lila reminded her.
Sophie shrugged.
People came. People left. No one stayed.
Ethan kissed their heads before leaving for work, even though Lila stiffened and Sophie flinched.
That evening his assistant Caleb was waiting in the driveway.
“The agency called,” Caleb said carefully. “They have someone else.”
Ethan sighed. “Let me guess. Desperate?”
“Different,” Caleb replied. “She’s a housekeeper. No childcare training.”
“Then why send her?”
Caleb hesitated. “She requested this job. Said she understands what your daughters are going through.”
Ethan almost laughed.
“What’s her name?”
“Rachel Bennett.”
When Ethan looked at the photo attached to the application, something stopped him.
Her eyes.
They carried the same raw grief he saw every morning in the mirror.