The small taxi stopped outside the clinic apartment. Aiden's heart pounded like a drum in his chest. He hugged Mia tightly, feeling her fragile body against his. Her hair smelled faintly of shampoo, her cheeks were pale but soft, and she blinked sleepily up at him.
"I… I'll be back soon," Aiden whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. "I just… I need to work. You have to get better, Mia. You need the surgery, okay?"
Mia's lips quivered, but she managed a weak smile. "Don't… go too far, okay?"
Aiden chuckled nervously, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I won't. I promise."
He handed her small suitcase to Saara, who had been waiting patiently outside. "Take care of her. Don't let her wander off, okay?"
Saara nodded firmly. "I got her. Don't worry. Now go, you've got a mansion to conquer, Mr… 'Ava.'"
Aiden hesitated, glancing down at Mia one last time. She clutched a small plush dog—the same one she'd been holding the day of the accident. "I'll save you, Mia," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "No matter what it takes."
Then, with a deep breath, he stepped into the taxi, watching Saara lift Mia inside. The taxi pulled away, leaving him staring at the streets of the city and the looming Blackwood mansion ahead. His heart ached, but he forced himself to focus. Every step into that house, every lie he told, every ounce of courage he summoned—it was all for Mia.
As the mansion's gates swung open, Aiden straightened his posture, adjusted his wig, and whispered to himself, "I can do this. For Mia."
**********
Ava—Aiden—stood frozen in the center of the corridor long after Ethan Blackwood disappeared at the turn of the stairs. The air still carried the heat of his anger and the cold scent of his cologne. It felt like the walls themselves whispered warnings:
Fifteen days. Fifteen days. Fifteen days.
Aiden closed his eyes for a second.
He needed to calm down.
He needed to breathe.
He needed to remember: he was here for Mia.
Not for Ethan's cold eyes.
Not for his impossible standards.
Not for the strange way the man's presence seemed to drag the oxygen from Aiden's lungs.
Clara cleared her throat sharply. She stood stiffly, clearly uncomfortable, clearly suspicious, and clearly one wrong move away from reporting Ava for something.
"This way," she said, voice clipped. "You need to see your room."
Aiden nodded, following her through a long corridor lit by warm golden lights. Each step echoed against marble, sounding too loud, too heavy. He felt like an imposter walking through a world that wasn't made for him.
Clara stopped before a door and opened it.
"This is your quarters."
Aiden blinked in surprise.
The room was… beautiful.
A large, soft bed with pale ivory sheets. A small writing desk. A wardrobe. A window overlooking the distant city lights. It was more luxurious than anything he'd ever slept in.
"Thank you," Aiden said softly.
Clara didn't respond with warmth. She crossed her arms.
"Miss Ava, let me be frank. Mr. Blackwood doesn't want you here."
"I know."
"And I don't trust easily." Her eyes hardened. "So if you cause any trouble… any discomfort to Lily… or behave improperly… I will remove you myself."
Aiden fought the urge to gulp.
"I understand. I'm here to help her."
Clara studied him for too long, then finally turned away. "Dinner will be ready in an hour. Lily needs to be bathed and changed. Mrs. Helena expects you to handle it."
Aiden stiffened.
Bathing… a child…
Okay. That he could do.
Bathing a child was easy.
Right
*****
Bath time was… chaos.
Lily screamed.
Lily kicked the water.
Lily splashed half of it onto Aiden's dress.
Lily tried to run out of the bathroom twice.
By the time she calmed enough for Aiden to shampoo her hair, he was sweating through his wig.
But something shifted.
When Aiden rinsed the shampoo out, Lily whispered, "You did it gently."
He froze. "Is… that good?"
"No one does it gently." Lily's voice cracked a little. "Everyone is always in a hurry."
Aiden's heart softened.
"Then I won't hurry," he promised.
Lily blinked up at him. For the first time, her eyes didn't hold suspicion. They held curiosity. Maybe even fragile trust.
"Do you want to sleep beside me tonight?" she asked suddenly.
Aiden froze. "Lily, I—"
Of course she did. She was lonely. Small. Scared. Her mother gone. Her father distant and dark. This mansion, despite all its wealth, was cold.
"Maybe later," Aiden whispered, brushing her damp hair gently. "Tonight I need to learn the house. But I'll be here in the morning, I promise."
Lily nodded slowly… then threw her arms around Ava's waist.
Aiden stiffened.
Then melted.
This child…
this lonely little girl…
was worth everything.
Even the fifteen days under Ethan Blackwood's storm.
**********
Clara instructed Ava to bring Lily to dinner. "But you are not required to eat with the family," she added pointedly. "Nannies don't sit at the table."
Aiden kept his head down. "Yes, ma'am."
But when he entered the dining hall with Lily's small hand in his, a sharp male voice cut the air.
"She's staying."
Aiden's heart dropped.
Ethan Blackwood sat at the head of the long glass dining table—sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, hair slightly messy as if from running frustrated fingers through it. He looked tired.
Tired… but still terrifying.
Clara bowed stiffly and stepped back.
Aiden swallowed.
He wasn't prepared to be anywhere near him again today.
Lily brightened. "Daddy! Ava washed my hair and brushed it really really gentle!"
Ethan's jaw paused mid-clench.
He looked at his daughter.
Then at Ava.
Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.
"Sit," he ordered.
Aiden obeyed because his legs weren't capable of disobedience. He sat at the far end of the table, heart pounding.
Ethan studied him with a clinical gaze. "Clara told me you managed her tantrum."
"She just… needed patience," Aiden said quietly.
"Patience?" Ethan raised a brow. "She threw a shoe at your head."
"It missed," Aiden said.
Ethan's lips almost twitched. Almost.
"She's difficult," he said. "She doesn't take well to strangers."
"She's a child, Mr. Blackwood," Aiden said before thinking. "Children are only difficult when they're hurting."
Silence.
Heavy. Electric.
Clara stiffened behind him. Helena lowered her fork slowly. Lily swung her legs, singing to herself.
Ethan's gaze sharpened with a warning.
"And what exactly," he asked softly—dangerously—"do you think is hurting her?"
Aiden panicked internally.
He didn't mean to challenge him.
Not this man.
Not the one who held his job in his fist.
"I—I didn't mean—"
Ethan leaned back, crossing his arms. "Finish your thought, Ms. Ava."
Aiden forced himself to speak. "She… she misses being understood."
Ethan didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't move.
Aiden felt the weight of those gray eyes like a storm cloud about to burst.
Then Ethan said quietly, "Eat."
It wasn't forgiveness.
But it wasn't anger either.
It was something in between.
Dinner passed in heavy silence, except for Lily cheerfully talking about Ava's "magic shampoo hands." Helena smiled with relief. Clara eyed Ava like a hawk.
Ethan ate slowly.
Deliberately.
Watching Ava from the corner of his eye…
As if he was re-evaluating something.
************
After dinner, Helena took Lily to her bedroom while Clara guided Ava through the mansion to show her the kitchen, laundry rooms, medical cabinet, outdoor garden, emergency exits.
But as they walked past Ethan's office, Aiden felt a sudden chill.
He could feel eyes on him.
He turned.
Through the tinted glass of Ethan's office door, a tall silhouette stood inside—still, powerful, unmistakable.
Ethan was watching him.
Aiden's breath caught.
Clara followed his gaze and her mouth tightened. "Mr. Blackwood has security cameras across the mansion. He monitors everything."
Aiden's heart stuttered.
Everything?
Including bathrooms?
Bedrooms?
Hallways he was in alone?
She added quickly, "But never private rooms. He respects boundaries."
Aiden nodded, relieved… yet uneasy.
Because if Ethan was watching him now, it wasn't from the cameras.
It was from behind that door.
His shadow shifted.
He was absolutely watching.
***********
That night, Aiden walked back to his room. Exhausted. Wig slightly crooked. Dress wrinkled. Skin flushed. Heart trying to calm down after an entire day of fighting disasters.
But just as he reached his door—
A strong hand grabbed his wrist.
Aiden gasped, spinning—
Ethan stood there, partially in shadow, shirt sleeves rolled, tie gone, top buttons undone.
He looked… different.
Not polished.
Not controlled.
Just raw intensity.
"You speak too freely," Ethan said in a low voice.
Aiden swallowed. "I didn't mean—"
"You don't know me," Ethan continued. "You don't know Lily. You don't know this house. Yet you walk in and claim you understand pain."
Aiden felt heat rise to his cheeks. "I didn't mean it that way—"
"You should choose your words carefully," Ethan warned softly, leaning closer. "Because here, every word has consequences."
His hand was still around Ava's wrist.
Warm.
Strong.
Steady.
Aiden looked at his grip, then up at him.
"You're hurting me," Aiden whispered.
Ethan released him instantly.
A flash of guilt—real, sharp, human—crossed his eyes before he controlled it.
"Go to sleep," he said. "Day one is over."
Aiden nodded weakly.
Ethan turned away but stopped halfway, voice barely above a whisper.
"…and Ava?"
Aiden froze.
"Don't disappoint her."
Aiden frowned. "Who?"
Ethan's jaw tensed.
He didn't turn around when he answered.
"Lily."
Then he walked away.
Aiden watched his retreating figure—confusing, infuriating, impossible—
And felt something shift inside his chest.
Not admiration.
Not attraction.
Not softness.
But curiosity.
Dangerous curiosity.
Who was Ethan Blackwood beneath the cold shell?
Why did Lily cling to him like he was the only safe thing in her world?
And why, when he warned Ava…
did his voice sound like a man warning himself?
Aiden shut his door behind him and leaned against it, heartbeat wild.
Fifteen days.
Just fifteen days.
He could survive this.
…right?
************