Zion wasn’t in his nursery.
He wasn’t with the nanny.
He was sitting in a small plastic tub placed inside the kitchen sink, water gently rippling around him.
And the person bathing him…
Wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near him.
Emily.
The new housemaid.
Young, quiet, dressed in a simple lavender uniform with her sleeves rolled up, her hair loosely tied back as if she had rushed into something without preparation. There was nothing about her that suggested authority, nothing that aligned with the carefully curated staff Marcus trusted with his son.
