His phone rang. His operations manager Steven Lowell spoke carefully. “Sir, no licensed nanny will accept the position. Legal advised me to stop calling.”
Jonathan exhaled slowly. “Then we do not hire a nanny.”
“There is one option left,” Steven replied. “A residential cleaner. No childcare duties on record.”
Jonathan looked through the window at the backyard, where toys lay broken among dead plants and overturned chairs. “Hire whoever says yes.”
Across town, in a narrow apartment near National City, Nora Delgado, twenty six, tightened her worn sneakers and shoved her psychology textbooks into a backpack. She cleaned homes six days a week and studied child trauma at night, driven by a past she rarely spoke about. When she was seventeen, her younger brother had died in a house fire. Since then, fear no longer startled her. Silence did not frighten her. Pain felt familiar.
Her phone buzzed. The agency supervisor sounded rushed. “Emergency placement. Private estate. Immediate start. Triple pay.”
Nora looked at the tuition bill taped to her refrigerator. “Send me the address.”
