Control returned.
And with it, judgment.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
His voice cut through the room, deep and sharp.
Emily startled, her hands tightening instinctively around Zion to keep him safe.
“Sir—I can explain,” she said quickly, her voice shaking but her grip steady.
“The nanny is on leave. He had a fever last night, and—”
“You thought that gave you the right to do this?” Marcus interrupted, his tone turning cold.
“To bathe my son in a kitchen sink?”
She didn’t argue.
But she didn’t step back either.
“He was burning up,” she said quietly. “I couldn’t find anyone, and I didn’t want to wait.”
The word fever landed, but instead of guilt, Marcus reacted with control.
“I have medical staff for that,” he said. “Your job is to clean. Not make decisions about my son.”
