The Poor Girl Hired as a Nanny — But the Child Calls Her Mom

The next day, Sophie’s suitcase disappeared.

So did Isabella’s diary.

Sophie discovered both after breakfast. Her room had been searched. The drawer where she had hidden the diary was empty. Her suitcase, with all her clothes and the envelope of salary, was gone.

On the bed lay a note.

Your services are no longer required. A car will take you to the gate.

There was no signature.

There did not need to be.

Sophie stormed downstairs and found Valeria in the sunroom, calmly arranging white roses.

“Where is the diary?” Sophie demanded.

Valeria did not look up. “Good morning to you too.”

“You went into my room.”

“My house. My rooms.”

“My belongings.”

Valeria cut a rose stem with silver scissors. “Poor girls become bold very quickly when they mistake charity for power.”

Sophie walked closer. “You stole me from my mother.”

At last, Valeria looked at her.

“I saved this family from disgrace.”

“You separated two sisters.”

“I made one of you worthy.”

The words hit the air like poison.

Sophie’s voice shook. “Isabella was worthy because she grew up rich?”

“Isabella was worthy because she was raised properly. You were left where you belonged.”

Sophie wanted to scream. Instead, she stood very still.

That stillness frightened Valeria more than rage would have.

“You’re afraid,” Sophie said.

Valeria’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re afraid because Isabella left proof. You’re afraid because Elena remembers the lake. You’re afraid because Adrian is starting to see you clearly.”

Valeria smiled thinly. “Adrian sees what I allow him to see.”

“Not anymore.”

The countess stepped close enough for Sophie to smell her perfume.

“Listen carefully. You will leave this villa today. If you speak to anyone about these fantasies, I will make sure every employer in Rome hears that you stole jewelry from this house. Who will they believe? A Belladonna countess or a girl from an orphanage?”

Sophie’s hands curled into fists.

Valeria continued, “You have no family, no money, no name. You are a shadow that learned to speak.”

The door opened.

Adrian stood there.

His face was colder than Sophie had ever seen it.

“She has a name,” he said. “And you will not threaten her again.”

For the first time, Valeria looked shaken.

Adrian walked into the room. “Where is Isabella’s diary?”

“I destroyed nothing that mattered.”

“That is not what I asked.”

Valeria lifted her chin. “You are humiliating your own mother in front of a servant.”

“She is not a servant.”

Sophie looked at him, surprised.

Adrian’s voice hardened. “She may be Isabella’s sister. She may be Elena’s aunt. And even if she were neither, she is still a human being you have no right to treat this way.”

Valeria’s face twisted.

“You weak fool,” she said. “You think this girl cares for Elena? She cares for money. For revenge. For a place in our world.”

Sophie spoke before Adrian could.

“I don’t want your world.”

Valeria laughed.

“I want the truth,” Sophie said. “I want my mother’s name cleared. I want Elena free from your lies. And I want Isabella remembered as a woman who fought for her sister, not as a fragile ghost you could control.”

The room fell silent.

Then Marta appeared at the doorway, trembling.

“Signora,” she said to Valeria, “forgive me.”

Valeria turned slowly.

Marta held up the blue diary.

Sophie gasped.

“I took it before your man could,” Marta whispered. “I knew you would try.”

Valeria’s face went white.

Adrian crossed the room and took the diary. “Thank you, Marta.”

The housekeeper began to cry.

But the victory did not last.

A scream echoed from upstairs.