Chapter 1: Chaos in the Mansion

The sound of breaking glass filled the main hall of the Blackwell mansion. Another nanny, the seventh this month, was running through the enormous foyer, holding back tears as she hurriedly gathered her belongings. A fine wine glass, thrown from the second floor, now lay shattered on the marble floor, the final testament to her short stay in the house.

Ethan Blackwell, only six years old, peeked from the stairs with a satisfied smile on his face. His cunning eyes, far too intense for a child his age, followed the hurried steps of the nanny who had tried to impose rules on him over the past few weeks. She hadn’t lasted. None of them ever did.

—Don’t forget to take your things! —Ethan shouted with disdain, and a dry laugh escaped his lips as the front door slammed shut behind the woman.

From the other end of the mansion, the sound of firm footsteps approached quickly. Alexander Blackwell, CEO of Blackwell Industries and one of the most powerful men in the country, appeared in the foyer. Tall, imposing, with a face that reflected the coldness of a man who had conquered the business world, he looked at his son with a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. Ethan always managed to drive the nannies away, and there was no time to keep dealing with his antics. Alexander didn’t understand his son, and that inability deeply irritated him.

—Ethan, what have you done this time? —Alexander asked in a grave voice, his gray eyes piercing his son’s from a distance.

Ethan merely shrugged, as if nothing that had happened mattered to him.

—She was boring —he answered emotionlessly, looking at his father without fear, with the same defiance that always characterized him—. They all are.

Alexander inhaled deeply. Work consumed him, and with a multimillion-dollar company to run, he barely had time to deal with problems at home. Ethan had always been different, complicated. And now, more than ever, he seemed to enjoy tormenting those meant to care for him. But worst of all, Alexander had no idea how to connect with his son.

—You need to stop doing this, Ethan —Alexander slowly approached the stairs, trying to control the anger boiling inside him—. We can’t keep changing nannies every week.

—Then stay yourself if it bothers you so much —Ethan responded with a surprising coldness for a child.

The words hit him. Alexander felt a lump in his throat, but he swallowed it immediately. The tension between them was palpable, and with each passing day, the distance between father and son only seemed to grow larger.

—I’ll find someone new —Alexander said curtly, pulling out his phone to call his personal assistant. He didn’t have time for sentimentality. He hadn’t had any for years.

Ethan watched his father with a look of disdain. He knew they’d find another nanny, and he would do the same thing he’d done with the previous ones. He didn’t care. No one could control his mind, his life. Least of all his father, who barely spent time with him, and when he did, it was only to scold him.

Meanwhile, across the city, in a more modest part of London, Isabella Rivera was finishing her shift at a small corner café. The job wasn’t ideal, but it helped her stay afloat while she continued searching for something more stable. She had arrived in England six years ago, escaping a past that, although she didn’t remember, haunted her every day.

Isabella wiped her hands with her apron and looked at her phone. She had received a notification for a new job offer, one as a nanny in a mansion. The salary was more than she had ever earned in a month at the café, but the idea of caring for a child, after everything that had happened, made her hesitate. She hadn’t been near children since… Since everything had changed.

She shook her head to push away those painful memories. She needed the money, and if she had to swallow her fears, she would.

The Blackwell mansion, located in the heart of Monaco, was an imposing place, with its tall white stone walls and perfectly manicured gardens that hid the luxury and power its owner represented. The afternoon sun lit up the house's windows, but inside, a tense atmosphere prevailed.

Isabella, newly arrived to take up her position as the nanny for the son of one of Europe’s richest and most powerful men, held a suitcase in one hand while she rang the doorbell with the other.

When the door opened, a man with a serious expression and distant eyes greeted her. He wore a perfectly tailored suit and exuded an authority that made her instinctively straighten up.

—Isabella Greaves, I presume —he said, looking her up and down with a calculating air.

—Yes, Mr. Blackwell —she replied, trying to stay calm. She had read a lot about him and knew he wasn’t an easy man to impress—. I’m here to start with Ethan.

—Yes, my son —Alexander said dryly, opening the door wider for her to enter—. Go upstairs. My assistant will show you to your room.

Isabella nodded, and before she could say anything else, she saw a small figure running down the hall at great speed. Ethan, with his messy blond hair and a video game t-shirt, zoomed past, completely ignoring both his father and the new nanny.

—Ethan! —Alexander's deep voice echoed through the house—. Come here right now.

The boy came to a sudden stop and turned on his heels, casting a defiant look at his father before noticing Isabella’s presence. He looked her up and down with a mix of curiosity and disdain.

—Another nanny? —he said, raising an eyebrow—. I bet you won’t last a week.

Isabella smiled calmly, though Ethan's attitude unsettled her a bit.

—We’ll see —she replied—. I’m pretty good at my job.

—They all say that —the boy muttered before turning around and disappearing upstairs.

Alexander let out a frustrated sigh and turned his attention back to Isabella.

—Ethan is... complicated —he admitted, though his voice held not a trace of softness—. But I don’t expect you to fully understand. Just do your job, and everything will be fine.

Isabella nodded, though she felt a mix of unease and curiosity about the boy. There was something in his gaze that puzzled her, a kind of sadness hidden behind his defiant attitude. But it wasn’t the time to dwell on it; she had a job to do, and she would do it as best as she could.

---

Hours later, after settling into her assigned room and exploring the house, Isabella finally found herself alone with Ethan in his massive playroom, a space equipped with the latest technology, video game consoles, and a screen that covered the entire wall.

Ethan was sitting in a corner, eyes glued to the screen as he played a racing game. Isabella sat in a nearby chair, watching him silently. She knew it would be hard to assert authority from the start, but she needed to find a way to connect with him.

—Do you like that game? —she finally asked, breaking the silence.

—It’s better than talking to you —Ethan replied without taking his eyes off the screen.

Isabella repressed a smile. She knew the challenge was part of the process. She wasn’t going to be intimidated so easily.

—It must be fun being so good at it —she said, pretending disinterest—. I was never very good at video games. I always lost.

Ethan paused, surprised by Isabella’s response. He turned his head slightly towards her, though his fingers continued moving on the controller.

—Really? —he asked, his tone less aggressive.

—Yes, really. I’m not as fast as you. But I’m good at other things.

Ethan didn’t reply immediately, but there was a slight relaxation in his posture. Isabella decided to seize the moment.

—How about we make a deal? —she suggested—. You teach me how to play, and if I win a match, you can ask me for anything.

Ethan looked at her directly for the first time, a mix of disbelief and amusement in his eyes.

—Anything?

—Anything —Isabella confirmed with a smile.

Ethan studied her for a second, as if calculating his next move. Finally, he smiled with childish mischief.

—Deal —he said, handing her the game controller—. But I warn you, I’m really good.

Isabella took the controller, knowing full well she had no chance of winning. But the victory wasn’t important; what mattered was the connection she was beginning to form with him. She played as best as she could, laughing every time Ethan beat her by a wide margin. The boy seemed to enjoy himself more as the game went on, his wall of indifference starting to crumble.

After several rounds, Isabella dropped the controller, pretending to be exhausted.

—I’m definitely not as good as you —she said, laughing—. But a promise is a promise. What do you want me to do?

Ethan crossed his arms, looking at her with a triumphant smile.

—I want you to take me to the park tomorrow... and buy me ice cream. Every flavor.

Isabella feigned an exaggerated expression of surprise.

—Ice cream in every flavor? That’s the best you can come up with?

—Yes! —Ethan exclaimed, now laughing—. And I don’t want to hear an

y rules. No "don’t climb there" or "be careful not to fall." Deal?

Isabella extended her hand, smiling.

—Deal.