Chapter 3

I didn't sleep that night.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Lily's face — blue lips, closed eyes, that terrible stillness. And then Oliver's text, glowing in the dark like a distress signal.

"Please come back."

By 6 AM, I'd made three decisions.

First: I would not sign the severance agreement. The NDA buried inside it would prevent me from ever speaking publicly about my time in the Ashford household. Celeste had clearly planned that.

Second: I would go public on my own terms. Not out of revenge — but because the truth mattered, and those children deserved someone fighting for them.

Third: I needed to see Oliver and Lily. Today.

At 8 AM, my phone rang. Not Priya this time.

Celeste.

I almost didn't answer. But curiosity won.

"Gemma, darling!" Her voice was honey over broken glass. "I just wanted to check in. No hard feelings about last night, I hope? Dominic can be so impulsive. You know how he is."

"I know exactly how he is," I said.

"Wonderful. So, about the severance paperwork — have you signed it yet? We really need it back by noon. Legal is being such a pain about these things."

"I haven't signed it."

A pause. The honey evaporated.

"Gemma. I'm going to be very direct with you. That agreement is generous. Far more generous than what most nannies receive. If you don't sign it, we'll be forced to terminate without severance, and I'll personally make sure no family in Manhattan hires you again."

"Celeste," I said calmly, "I'm going to be very direct with you too. I pulled Lily out of that pool. I gave her CPR. I saved her life. And you told the press it was you."

Silence.

"I have no idea what you're—"

"Page Six. 'Thanks to the quick thinking of Celeste Marchand.' Ring any bells?"

More silence. Then her tone shifted — colder, meaner, the real Celeste underneath the Instagram filter.

"Listen to me carefully, you little nobody. I am about to become Mrs. Dominic Ashford. That means I will have more money, more power, and more lawyers than you could dream of. If you try to contradict my story, I will bury you. Do you understand?"

I smiled. She couldn't see it, but I smiled.

"Celeste, have you ever googled the name Aether Technologies?"

"What? No. Why would I care about some tech—"

"You should. Google it. Then call me back."

I hung up.

Within twenty minutes, Priya texted me: "Celeste's assistant just ran a search on Aether Technologies. Then searched your name. Then searched your name again with 'net worth.' She's currently in the bathroom. Possibly throwing up."

I would've laughed if my heart wasn't breaking for two kids across town.

At 10 AM, I drove to Oliver's school. I wasn't listed as a guardian, but I'd been his emergency contact for four years. The front office knew me by sight.

"Miss Byrne!" The receptionist smiled. "Oliver's in class. Is everything okay? He seemed upset this morning."

"I just need five minutes with him. Is that possible?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "He's been asking about you all morning."

When Oliver walked into the visiting room, he ran straight into my arms.

"You left," he said into my shoulder, his voice muffled and raw. "You left and Lily won't stop crying and Celeste told us you quit because you didn't want to be our nanny anymore."

My blood went cold.

"Oliver, look at me." I knelt down to his level. "I did not quit. And I will never, ever stop wanting to be in your life. Do you understand me?"

His eyes were red. "Then why aren't you at home?"

"Because sometimes adults make decisions that aren't fair. But I'm going to fix it. I promise."

He wiped his nose with his sleeve. "Celeste says she's going to be our new mom."

"How do you feel about that?"

He looked down. "She told Lily that if she cries one more time, she'll send her to a school far away where she can cry all she wants."

Every muscle in my body tensed.

"When did she say that?"

"This morning. Before Dad left for work."

"Did you tell your dad?"

Oliver shook his head. "Dad doesn't listen. He never listens."

I hugged him tighter than I should have. Then I pulled back and looked him in the eyes.

"I'm going to fix this, Oliver. All of it."

He nodded slowly. "Promise?"

"Promise."

I walked out of that school with a fire in my chest that no amount of money or power could have put there.

This wasn't about Dominic anymore. This wasn't about Celeste or Forbes or my company.

This was about two children being failed by every adult in their lives except one.

And that one had just been thrown out the door.

My phone buzzed. Priya.

"Gemma — the gala photographer just sent over the images. You need to see these. There are twelve photos of the pool incident. Every single one shows you performing CPR on Lily. Celeste is visible in the background of three of them."

I opened the attachment.

There she was. Celeste Marchand. In the background of the most damning photo, standing fifteen feet from a drowning child, champagne in hand, laughing at something on her phone.

I saved every image.

Then I forwarded them to my lawyer with one message:

"Prepare everything. We go public Monday."

But Monday was five days away.

And I had no idea that by tomorrow morning, Dominic Ashford would be standing at my door — because his daughter had just been rushed to the hospital.