Page 9 of Demon Daddy's Nanny

Eva's shoulders straighten. "Then dismiss me. But you know I'm right."

I work my jaw. “Have you reached a decision?”

“I’ll stay.” Her eyes dart toward the door. “For her. I know she needs someone, but you could at least try with her.”

I don’t know how to process the second part of her answer, so I only answer the first. “I’ll send someone to tell your employer and gather your things. You can choose one of the rooms in Annalise’s wings.”

Eva’s eyes assess me with a cunning I’m not used to. “I might be your daughter’s companion, but that won’t make me agree to everything you say.”

And then, she turns and walks into the house, leaving me alone with thoughts I've avoided for years.

Hours later, I sit in my office, staring at reports without reading them. The words blur together, meaningless scratches on parchment. My wings ache from holding them rigid against my back. The floating orbs cast harsh shadows across my desk, throwing the neat stacks of papers into sharp relief.

I shove back from the desk. The chair scrapes against stone, the sound echoing through the empty room. Even the scratch of my quill feels too loud in this silence.

My feet carry me through the halls before conscious thought takes hold. The estate stretches vast and hollow around me, its grandeur mocking the emptiness within. Golden archways soar overhead, their magical lights dimmed for evening. My footsteps echo off floors that haven't felt the patter of running feet in years.

I find myself outside Annalise's door, drawn by the sound of laughter spilling through the crack beneath. Eva's voice drifts out, warm and rich as she describes some mishap at the bakery. Annalise's giggles follow - a sound so foreign it takes me moments to recognize it.

My hand lifts to the door handle, then falls away. When did I become a stranger in my daughter's life? When did her laughter become something I hear only through closed doors?

The walls press in, suffocating despite their height. My wings flex, itching to spread wide and carry me far from these memories. From Eva's knowing gaze and my daughter's silver eyes that look so much like her mother's.

Another burst of laughter rings out. The sound wraps around my throat like a vise. This is what I've denied her - what I've denied us both. Simple joy. Connection. The warmth of shared stories and gentle teasing.

Eva brought life back into these halls with nothing more than patience and pastries. While I've spent years building walls of duty and protocol, she knocked them down with a smile and flour-dusted hands.

I press my forehead against the cool wood of the door, wings trembling with the effort of keeping them still. On the other side, my daughter lives and breathes and laughs. And I stand here in the dark, a shadow at the edges of her world.

5

EVA

The morning sun filters through the kitchen windows as I knead fresh dough, falling into an easy rhythm. Two weeks into my new position, and I've memorized the layout of every cabinet, drawer, and shelf. The countertops gleam beneath my flour-dusted hands. Not that I’m required to help in the kitchens, but I couldn’t give up something I love.

A door slams upstairs, followed by heavy footsteps. Ridwan's commanding voice echoes through the halls. "Annalise, your tutor arrives in an hour. Be presentable."

No response.

More footsteps, these lighter and faster. Annalise appears in the kitchen doorway, her platinum hair disheveled, silver eyes blazing. She yanks open the icebox, grabs a juice, and slams it shut.

"Did you hear me?" Ridwan's massive frame fills the doorway, his golden wings tucked tight against his back. The scar on his cheek stands out stark against his bronze skin.

"Yes, Father. Be presentable. Like always." Annalise doesn't look at him, instead focusing on picking at the label of her drink.

"And your assignments?"

"Completed."

"All of them?"

"Yes." Her knuckles whiten around the bottle.

Ridwan's jaw tightens. "Show me."

"They're in my room."

"Then get them."

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