THE PRICE OF DECENCY

Clara swallowed the lump in her throat, brushing a soft curl away from Lily’s forehead. The innocent question hung in the quiet nursery, heavier than the velvet drapes framing the window.

"No, mija," Clara said, her voice fiercely gentle. "You didn't break anything. The bank just made a silly mistake. Uncle Marky's money is perfectly fine, and so are you."

Lily blinked, her heavy eyelids drooping. She squeezed Peanut and Foxy closer together. "Foxy is a good boy."

"The best boy," Clara agreed, staying by the bed until the child's breathing evened out.

Downstairs, the atmosphere was far less peaceful. Clara descended the grand staircase just in time to hear the sharp click of Vanessa’s heels pacing the marble foyer.

"You embarrassed me, Marcus," Vanessa's voice echoed, shrill and unyielding. "You left me standing there like a fool over a child's temper tantrum."

Marcus stood by the fireplace, a glass of scotch untouched in his hand. "She didn't have a tantrum, Vanessa. You accused a three-year-old of credit card fraud."

"I was stressed!" Vanessa shot back, crossing her arms. "Do you have any idea how it looks when Marcus Hale’s card declines? The rumors that could start? And you just coddle her. You coddle the nanny, too. The way that woman looked at me—"

"Her name is Clara." Marcus’s voice dropped to that dangerous, quiet register that made boardrooms tremble. "**And she was doing the job you should have done.** She was protecting my niece."

Vanessa scoffed. "She's staff, Marcus. You’re acting like she’s part of the family. If we are going to be married, things need to change around here. That child needs boarding school when she's of age, and until then, a strict governess. Not a bleeding-heart maid."

Marcus finally looked at her, truly looked at her. The illusion was entirely gone.

"There isn't going to be a marriage," he said.

Vanessa froze. "What?"

"Leave the ring on the table, Vanessa. Have your assistant send for your things."