Page 61 of Nanny for the Firefighters

"Good God," I groan, dropping my face between my palms. "How will I do this?"

I'm not just Ella, the woman with the ordinary life. I have a secret identity, a life filled with danger. And now, I'm a target. They'll come after me, use my child as leverage.

I clutch the phone, my knuckles white. I have to protect my baby. I have to keep us both safe. But how? How do I?—

As if on cue, a message alert chimes on my phone. It's from Vanessa. I swallow hard, my heart pounding a war drum in my chest. "Speak of the devil," I mutter, bracing myself for whatever news she's about to drop.

It's best if I slip out before Marcus or Lily finds me hiding in the kitchen. I'm not in a great emotional state, and the enormity of what I'm handling, and what I'm about to face—it'll make it all that more hard to hide these many things from Marcus. I don't enjoy the secrets. I just know they are necessary.

I glance at the clock. It's almost 8 a.m., and I need to get moving. Grabbing my phone, I call a cab to take me to the cafe. The rain is still coming down hard as I step outside, the wet pavement gleaming under the streetlights. The cab arrives, and I slide into the backseat, giving the driver the address.

The ride to the cafe takes us along Ocean Drive. The view, even shrouded in rain, is breathtaking. Waves crash against the rocks, sending up sprays of white foam, while the ocean stretches out endlessly, a dark and restless expanse under the gray sky. I watch the scene unfold outside the window, trying to calm my nerves and stomach. The cab's heater hums softly, creating a cocoon of warmth that contrasts with the storm raging outside.

We finally arrive at the cafe, its welcoming glow a beacon in the dreary morning. I thank the driver and step out, the rain immediately soaking through my coat. Pushing open the door, I'm greeted by the comforting scents of coffee and freshly baked pastries.

The cafe, quaint and charming, is nearly empty. I choose a corner table by the window where I can watch the rain and wait for Vanessa. Time passes, and my stomach growls, the earlier nausea replaced by hunger. I order a simple salad, trying to keep it light and easy to digest. The waitress brings it over quickly, and I start picking at it, my mind racing with thoughts of the impending conversation.

The door swings open, and Vanessa strides in. She's dressed to the nines in designer clothes, her face heavily made up, looking like she's heading to a high-society event rather than an early morning breakfast. She draws stares from the other patrons, her presence a stark contrast to the cozy atmosphere of the cafe.

She spots me and makes her way over, her heels clicking sharply on the wooden floor. She sits down across from me, barely acknowledging my presence as she waves the waitress over and orders a full breakfast spread—pancakes, bacon, creamy scrambled eggs, the works. It's an indulgent and ostentatious display, so typical of Vanessa.

"So," she says, finally turning her attention to me. "You wanted to meet."

"I did." I keep my voice steady, my eyes locked on hers. "I wanted to ask if you're the one who's been sending me those threats."

Her smile is thin and cold. "Why, Ella, whatever do you mean?"

The waitress arrives with her order, and I watch as Vanessa digs in with gusto. The food looks delicious but over-the-top—each dish an extravagant creation designed to impress. She eats like a glutton, shoveling spoon after spoon into her mouth with little regard for manners. My stomach churns again, but I force myself to stay composed.

"You know exactly what I mean," I say, my voice firmer. "The messages. The threats. Are they from you?"

Vanessa dabs at her lips with a napkin, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, Ella. Always so direct. But yes, let's get to the point, shall we?"

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a magazine, flipping it open to a page featuring an article about Verity Vixen. The headline reads, Meddling Vigilante or Hero? The Troubling Escapades of Verity Vixen.

Vanessa reads a few lines out loud, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "‘Verity Vixen, the vigilante, has been interfering in private matters, wreaking havoc on the lives of those she deems unworthy. Her actions have led to broken engagements, public humiliations, and more. Many would label her a hero—but therein lies the conundrum. Is it really heroic to take the arms of the law into one's own hands and belt out a form of justice that is, at best, twisted?'" Her eyes gleam. "Does the name sound familiar?"

I clench my fists under the table. "What's your point, Vanessa?"

She closes the magazine with a flourish, leaning forward. "My point, dear Ella, is that I know who you are. And I know exactly what you've been up to."

My heart pounds in my chest. "What do you want?"

Vanessa's smile widens, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "I want you to leave Marcus and vacate the manor. Immediately. Or else I'll make sure everyone knows about Verity Vixen and her little escapades."

I feel a cold dread settle over me. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm very serious," she replies, leaning back and taking a sip of her coffee. "Think about it, Ella. Do you really want all of this to come crashing down around you? Your secret identity exposed, your reputation ruined, and your precious baby…" She trails off, letting the implication hang in the air. She looks at my blanched expression and laughs like a proper villain. "You're not the only one with a propensity for snooping around, darling."

I swallow hard, fighting the rising tide of panic. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I can," Vanessa says simply, her eyes cold and calculating. "And because I want what's mine. Marcus is mine. The manor is mine. And I won't let some meddling nanny with a hero complex take it away from me."

I stare at her, my mind racing. I have to protect my baby, but I can't just abandon Marcus and the others. They've become my family. The best option would be to buy some time for myself, and the only way to do that is to step back, even if it's just for a little while. My heart aches at the thought of leaving them, but I know Vanessa won't hesitate to follow through on her threats.

"What will it be, Ella?" Vanessa asks, her voice soft and menacing. "Are you going to do the smart thing and leave? Or will you force my hand?"

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I have to be strong, not just for me, but for my baby. "Fine," I say quietly. "I'll leave."