Jack’s timid and cautious demeanor only deepened my feelings of guilt and distress.
As I lay beside her, reading a fairy tale before bed, my phone suddenly rang. It was Al.
"I drank too much with my clients today and couldn’t pick up our daughter."
"I heard from Aunt Elsa that you came home early from work today? Did you finish everything at the office?"
"I won’t be coming home tonight. Mr. Moore insisted on dragging me to play mahjong, so I’ll probably be staying out all night."
After a brief exchange, I hung up the phone.
Ever since Jack started kindergarten, Al and I had been drifting further apart.
With the company expanding rapidly, I established a new branch, which Al took over. He became too busy to take care of Jack, so he hired our current nanny, Elsa Grant.
From the very beginning, I never liked her. She didn’t seem like a professional nanny. When she first started working for us, she often complained that Jack’s food and clothes were too extravagant. She even made comments like, "Girls don’t need to be raised so well."
If she hadn’t been a distant relative of Al’s, I would have dismissed her right away.
But Al trusted her completely, insisting that she would take good care of Jack.
In the end, I relented.
Over the past year, my career soared to new heights, but at the same time, Jack had lost her former liveliness. She had become overly cautious, as if she were always afraid of being abandoned.
It reminded me too much of my own lonely childhood.
My parents had been preoccupied with their careers, leaving me with everything I needed—except love and attention. My childhood was far from happy.
Some say that people spend their entire lives trying to heal from their childhood, while others use their childhood to heal their entire lives.
I refuse to let Jack go through what I did.
Maybe it was time to slow down and refocus on what truly mattered—my daughter.
Just as these thoughts filled my mind, Elsa suddenly pushed open the bedroom door, walking in with a glass of milk.
Jack, who had been listening intently to my story, suddenly shuddered.
I didn’t know if it was because of the abrupt intrusion—or something else.
My expression darkened as I snapped, "Why did you come in without knocking?"
Elsa blinked in surprise before blurting out, "There’s no outsider in the house. Why do I need to knock?"
Was she really treating my home as her own?
I gave her a cold stare and said in a firm voice, "Learn the rules. This is not your house."
"Without my permission, you are not allowed to enter mine or Jack’s room whenever you please. Do you understand?"
A flicker of displeasure crossed her face, and she muttered, "Fine, I got it."
She then placed the glass of milk on my bedside table and added, "Jack always drinks milk before bed. She won’t be able to sleep without it."
With that, she left, her expression dark.
I watched her retreating figure, my irritation growing.
She had no sense of boundaries, no professionalism. I was seriously considering replacing her.
I reached for the glass of milk, smiling at Jack as I said, "Sweetheart, drink this and get some sleep. Mommy will take you to kindergarten tomorrow morning, okay?"
Jack hesitated, shrinking away from the milk. Her voice was small as she whispered, "Mom… can I not drink it?"
I frowned. "But you used to love drinking milk, didn’t you?"
