1 The nanny wanted to become the lady of the house. She secretly taught my son to call her "Grandma." She was always lecturing me like a mother-in-law, pushing me to have a second child. "If a woman doesn't have children, is she even a woman?" she'd say. When I finally had enough and tried to throw her out, she declared with arrogant pride, "You're the one who should get lost. I'm Asher's real mother!" My husband and I stared at each other, utterly horrified. "Since when," we both stammered, "was he an illegitimate child?" … I got off work early and went to pick up my three-year-old son, Finn, from his preschool. As I approached the school gate, I saw our nanny, Mrs. Quinn, holding his hand. She held a lollipop in front of him, her face a mask of grandmotherly affection. "Finn, darling, what did I teach you to call me yesterday?" Finn hesitated. Mrs. Quinn dangled the lollipop tantalizingly. "Grandma!" he chirped immediately. "That's right! Grandma's good boy! Here you go." Watching this exchange, my face went cold. Mrs. Quinn was a long-time fixture in my husband Asher's family. She hadn't just raised Asher; she had once saved his life. Now, she had volunteered to look after our son, Finn. The entire family respected her deeply. But my relationship with her was… strained. It had gotten particularly bad about a month ago, when Asher and I decided to enroll Finn in an early education program. When Mrs. Quinn found out, she cornered me. "Zoey," she said, her tone casual but her eyes sharp, "Finn is three now. Don't you think it's time for you and Asher to start thinking about a second child?" I was completely blindsided. Asher's parents had divorced years ago. I had no mother-in-law. Since marrying into the Vance family, Mrs. Quinn had taken it upon herself to act as the family matriarch, constantly lecturing me. Asher respected her, and since her meddling was usually minor, I let it slide. But now she had crossed a line, pushing me about having more children. I didn't bother to hide my displeasure. "Mrs. Quinn, that is not your place to ask." She ignored my irritation. "I know you young people are shy about these things. But having babies is a race against time. A woman over thirty has a much harder time conceiving." Her voice warmed to her subject. "Where I come from, a woman should have at least three to five children. And it's best if they're all boys." As her pronouncements grew more and more outrageous, I raised my voice to cut her off. "Mrs. Quinn, let's be clear. You are a nanny. That's all." Even Asher's own mother had never pressured me. Seeing the anger in my eyes, Mrs. Quinn finally, reluctantly, fell silent. But I never imagined she'd hold such a grudge. A nanny, secretly coaching my son to call her "Grandma." If any of our friends heard that, they'd think I was cheating on Asher! 2 I suppressed my fury, forced a pleasant expression onto my face, and walked over. I buckled Finn into his car seat first. Then I turned to Mrs. Quinn, my face a cold mask. "Mrs. Quinn, a person should know their place," I said, my voice low and even. "I shouldn't have to teach you what you should and shouldn't do, should I?" I was giving her one last chance to save face by not spelling it out. But she didn't take it. She jutted out her chin and reprimanded me. "Zoey Vance, is that any way to speak to an elder? I raised Asher. He's like a son to me. In the old days, I would have been his wet nurse. It's only right that Finn calls me 'Grandma'!" She sniffed. "It's just like I thought. Someone from a common family like yours has no manners." I was floored. What kind of twisted logic was that? By her reasoning, if she nannied for a few more families, she'd have children all over the city. I was done arguing. I held up my phone. "I wonder what Asher will think when he finds out he has a new mother." The Vances treated their staff well, but not so well that they'd let a nanny walk all over them. Thinking I had recorded her, Mrs. Quinn's face finally changed. Her tone softened, and she mumbled an apology. "Don't let it happen again," I said coldly. … Later that evening, I was still mulling over Mrs. Quinn's recent behavior. When I first married Asher, she had been respectful, keeping to her duties. That all changed about a month into our marriage, when she found Asher in the kitchen late at night, making me a snack. The look on her face had curdled instantly. The next day, while Asher was at work, she confronted me. "Zoey, you have a perfectly good pair of hands and feet. How could you order Asher around like that?" I was baffled. "He's my husband. Making me a bowl of noodles is hardly 'ordering him around.'" "No, no, no," she corrected me, her expression deadly serious. "It is the natural order of things for a woman to serve a man. Besides," she added, her voice dropping conspiratorially, "Asher is the heir to the Vance family! If people found out he was waiting on you, they'd laugh him out of town!" I was stunned by her archaic mindset. What century was she living in? She was a relic from a bygone era. I tried to reason with her, my temper still in check. "Mrs. Quinn, it's not 'waiting on me.' It's called taking care of each other. That's what married couples do." She just sighed and shook her head. "A girl from a common family. You'll never understand. The Vances are a prominent family. You can't compare them to common folk. I think you should quit your job and learn how to be a proper wife." 3 Before I could protest, she shoved a pile of laundry into my arms. It was Asher's from the day before. "From now on, you will be washing all of Asher's clothes," she instructed. "His underwear and socks must be washed by hand. And when he leaves for work in the morning, you must be up to see him off." She paused, then added, "That three-thousand-a-month job of yours is pointless. Just quit and focus on taking care of Asher at home. The most important thing now is to get pregnant." I stared at her, dumbfounded, as she prattled on. This fossil wasn't going to be reasoned with. So, I threw the clothes right back at her. Especially the two smelly socks. They hit her squarely on the head and face. The pungent odor of a man's sweaty feet is not a pleasant one. Mrs. Quinn shrieked like a scalded chicken. "Zoey Vance!" I just shrugged, a cold smile on my face. "Whoever wants to wash them can wash them. I'm not doing it." That was our first major confrontation. I told Asher about it that night. He promised to talk to her, reminding me that she was a long-time family employee and deserved another chance. Of course, he said, if I wanted her gone, she'd be gone. But we were newly married, and I didn't want to cause a huge scene. I relented. After that, Mrs. Quinn seemed to understand that I wasn't a pushover, and she backed off. Until I got pregnant. That's when she started acting up again. 4 When we found out I was pregnant, the whole family was ecstatic, especially Asher, who had always wanted a daughter. But it was Mrs. Quinn's reaction that surprised me the most. She wept with joy, clasping her hands together in prayer. "Asher has an heir! Thank you, ancestors!" She was more emotional than my own mother-in-law would have been. Not only that, she started doting on me, fussing over my every need, cooking me elaborate meals. The tension between us began to melt away, all because of the tiny life growing inside me. Until I was seven weeks along. One day, Mrs. Quinn grabbed my arm, her face taut with anxiety, insisting we go to the hospital. I was confused. "Didn't we just have a check-up last week?" She smiled. "We're not going for a check-up. We're going to find out if the baby is a boy or a girl. If it's a boy, we'll keep it. If it's a girl, we'll get rid of it. The firstborn must be a son!" I snatched my hand away, horrified. "Mrs. Quinn, have you lost your mind? My child's fate is not for you to decide. You're just a nanny in this house. This has nothing to do with you!" My outburst left her red-faced and sputtering. She bit out, "I'm only doing this for your own good!" "Why don't you mind your own business?" I retorted sharply. "The Vances give you an inch, and you think you're the queen of the castle. You have no say over my child!" My words were merciless. Mrs. Quinn was fuming, but there was nothing she could do. I waved a dismissive hand and banished her from my room. I was about to insist on hiring a new nanny, but Mrs. Quinn beat me to the punch with a preemptive strike. 5 After I became pregnant, I started taking a nap every afternoon. That day, I had just fallen asleep when a sharp pain shot through my fingertip. I'm terrified of pain, and it jolted me awake. I opened my eyes and found myself staring into a pair of cold, narrow eyes. I screamed, grabbing whatever was on my nightstand and hurling it at the figure. Only when I heard a familiar cry of pain did I realize it was Mrs. Quinn. Her forehead was bleeding where an object had struck her, and her chin was cut. In my panic, I had even ripped out a chunk of her hair. She was a complete mess. "Mrs. Quinn, what are you doing?" I demanded, my voice trembling. She stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence. Then I saw the test tube in her hand and the syringe on the floor beside her. It all clicked. She hadn't given up. She had snuck into my room while I was sleeping to draw my blood for a gender test. I couldn't believe it. She was a nanny, not the lady of the house. Why was she so obsessed with my pregnancy? Asher was furious. This was his first child. He wouldn't tolerate anyone, regardless of gender, trying to harm it. Mrs. Quinn was finally scared. Scared of being thrown out for good. She tearfully reminded Asher of how she had saved his life, begging for forgiveness. She banged her head on the floor until the carpet was stained red. Finding a good nanny isn't easy, and Asher hadn't been feeling well himself lately, so I agreed to give her one more chance. After that incident, Mrs. Quinn did seem to behave. She took good care of Finn over the years, and I stopped thinking about replacing her. But I was wrong. Her ambition to be the "mistress" of the house had never died. 6 Lately, I'd noticed Finn seemed withdrawn and unusually clingy. I assumed it was just trouble adjusting to his new school. Until tonight. As I was tucking him into bed, he looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. "Mommy," he whispered, "please don't leave. I don't want Daddy to get me a new mommy." My heart sank, but I kept my voice gentle. "Mommy's not going anywhere. Who told you Daddy was going to get a new mommy?" He was silent for a long time before his voice came out in a choked sob. "It was Grandma Quinn. She said she's going to be my real grandma soon. And that if you don't behave, Daddy will get me a new mommy." A fire ignited in my chest. Not only was Mrs. Quinn defying me, she was threatening my son. And what did she mean, "she's going to be my real grandma soon"? I pushed down my anger and questions and focused on comforting my son. "Don't you worry, Finn. Daddy would never, ever replace Mommy." After reassuring him until he finally fell asleep, I couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said. A bizarre thought popped into my head. Had Mrs. Quinn started something with my father-in-law? What other explanation could there be? My father-in-law had been a bit of a playboy in his younger days. When Asher was ten, a mistress had even shown up with an illegitimate son of the same age. Asher never went into detail, but the mistress and her son were sent packing. His wife, heartbroken, had insisted on a divorce. My father-in-law, suddenly repentant, had been trying to win her back ever since. For years, his life had been nothing but work and futile attempts at reconciliation. Given his history and heartbreak, it seemed unlikely he'd fall for the aging Mrs. Quinn. But then again, some people have strange tastes. Maybe years of rejection had changed his palate. It was the only way Mrs. Quinn's recent behavior made any sense. She was acting like she was already the lady of the house. A shiver went down my spine. I shook Asher, who was sound asleep beside me. "Wake up! If you keep sleeping, you're going to have a new baby brother!" Asher's eyes fluttered open. He rolled on top of me. "What? Honey, you want to give Finn a baby brother? I'd better get to work!" "Asher!" My protest was swallowed by his kiss.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "393612", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel