Scene 1: The Morning After
The very first thing that Alexa felt was warmth… and weight.
Something was draped across her ribs like an iron chain, as it held her in place, then she blinked awake and tilted her head only to see Aaron's tiny fist tangled in the fabric of her shirt, as his face buried into her side. He was still soundly asleep, though his lips parted, and his breathing was steady. He was clinging to her like she was the anchor that kept him from drifting away.
Her body stiffened immediately. This wasn't part of the mission. This—whatever this was—felt too human, too close. Too… wrong.
She carefully turned her head.
And there he was.
Marcus.
He was standing by the tall window, the morning sun slicing across his broad shoulders. He wasn't looking at her, but his reflection on the glass showed enough: arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes shadowed. That cold silence of his filled the room like smoke.
Alexa's breath caught.
For a second, it looked like the picture-perfect portrait of a family—father, son, and… her.
Her.
The thought jolted her like ice water. No. Don't you dare romanticize this. You're not his wife. You're not Aaron's mother. You're not part of this picture.
Still, Aaron moved and muttered sleepily, "Don't go… stay…" tightening his grip, which made Alexa wince.
"…He's been like that all night," Marcus said suddenly with his voice low and unreadable. "Wouldn't let either of us go."
Alexa then glanced up. She was startled by the fact that he had spoken at all. His eyes met hers for the briefest heartbeat, and then something unreadable flickered there—something softer, almost dangerous—but just as quickly, the steel curtain slammed back down.
She swallowed hard, tearing her gaze away.
"Kids," she muttered under her breath, trying to sound annoyed, though her pulse betrayed her.
Marcus didn't reply. He only turned back to the window, watching the world with that same impenetrable calm.
By the time Aaron finally blinked awake, he yawned impressively, then stretched like a king in his bed, and sat up with his nose in the air. "You drool in your sleep," he announced to Alexa, lips curling.
Alexa's eyes narrowed. "I do not."
"You do. I saw it. It's gross." He smirked but then, quieter, so low she almost missed it: "…But it was… kinda funny. I didn't mind."
Her lips twitched, and he didn't realize his arrogance couldn't hide that softness that was sneaking out.
Marcus simply chuckled under his breath, as the sound was low and fleeting, but it made both of them look at him. He caught their stares, cleared his throat, and adjusted his cuff as if nothing had happened.
Aaron crossed his arms, ignoring his father's slip. "You're sitting with me at breakfast," he told Alexa, "And you can't say no."
This made Alexa arch a brow. "Ordering me around, hm?"
"Not ordering. Deciding." Aaron smirked wider as he glanced at Marcus. "Papa listens to me. So should you."
Marcus's lips quirked again, barely. But this time, when his gaze slid to Alexa, it lingered. Too long. Too careful.
Her pulse jumped, she was like: Stop looking at me like that…
Breakfast Hall
The dining table gleamed under the morning light, as the silverware was lined neatly, servants moving quietly, but this time, the air was different.
Aaron was in his seat, as he grinned smugly every time Alexa tried to reach for food herself. "No, no, no—let me." He'd scoop her portion, plop it onto her plate like he was the host, not the child.
"You're six," she said flatly. "You don't get to act like my butler."
Aaron leaned closer, whispering as if it were some secret conspiracy. "Don't ruin it. Just eat it. Pretend I'm in charge."
Her fork froze. She almost laughed—but when she looked up, she caught Marcus watching the exchange, quiet amusement ghosting across his features.
"Something funny?" she asked sharply.
"Not at all," Marcus replied, but his eyes glimmered as he buttered his bread.
The servants moved around them, and for the first time, Alexa wasn't being ignored or treated like she didn't belong. She felt—dangerously—like she was part of something. Like they were a family sitting together in the morning.
And that scared her more than anything.
She forced her gaze down at her plate, then she clenched her fist under the table. Focus, Alexa. Focus. You're not here to play mother. You're not here to fall for a man who's supposed to be your target….
At the far end of the room, Nina couldn't help but simply get angry as her nails dug crescents into her palms.
All morning, she had been silent as she stood by the tea tray, watching. The scene before her was intolerable.
Marcus, the man she'd given years of loyalty to, the man she'd dreamed of winning over, was letting this intruder—this girl—take a seat at his son's side. And Aaron, who used to at least listen to her stories, now clung to Alexa like she was the center of his world.
Her smile was as thin as paper as she lifted the pot, forcing calm into her voice.
"Miss Alexa," she called sweetly. "Would you like some tea? Freshly brewed. It might… calm your nerves."
Alexa glanced up, suspicion prickling. Every instinct screamed Don't. But Marcus's gaze flicked toward her, unreadable, sharp. She swallowed. "…Fine."
Nina's fingers tightened around the porcelain. She poured, slowly, deliberately. The pot tilted… then slipped just enough.
The tea cascaded down, scalding, straight onto Alexa's lap.
Her gasp cracked the room's quiet. She pushed back her chair with a sharp scrape, clutching at the fabric as the burn stung her skin.
Aaron shot to his feet, horrified. "Hey! Watch what you're doing!"
Marcus's hand slammed flat on the table, the sound like a gunshot.
The servants froze.
Nina covered her lips in mock horror. "Oh my! I—I'm so clumsy. Forgive me, Miss Alexa."
But in her eyes, barely visible behind lowered lashes, victory burned.
Scene 2: For The First Time In Years (Aaron, the little man)
The table went stony still, as Marcus's chair screeched back as he stood, his eyes were icy, the kind of cold that could shatter stone.
"Nina." His voice didn't rise, but it carried like thunder. "What. Did. You. Do."
The entire hall seemed to shrink as even the servants lowered their gazes, terrified to breathe.
"I—" Nina stammered, holding the teapot like it was her lifeline. "It was—it was an accident. I swear, Master Marcus. The handle slipped."
"Accident?" His tone was very sharp, razor-sharp. He took one deliberate step toward her, as the weight of his presence pressed down like a storm. "An accident doesn't require aim."
Nina flinched, as her knuckles whitened around the porcelain.
Aaron then slammed his little hands onto the table, as he glared with the full weight of his tiny six-year-old fury. "You did it on purpose! You hurt her! I saw it!"
Alexa, who was wincing as the burn pulsed against her skin, reached out to hush him. "Aaron, enough—"
But Aaron wouldn't stop, as his eyes shone with unshed tears, though his voice tried to stay strong. "You're mean! You always act nice in front of Papa, but I know! You hate her! You hate Alexa!"
Every word was a dagger into Nina's chest. Her lips trembled. "That's not—"
"Silence." Marcus's command cut like a blade, as his gaze was able to pin Nina where she stood. It was a warning far deadlier than any slap.
The room was now suffocating, as Alexa forced herself to stand, though her legs shook slightly. "Stop." Her voice was quiet but firm, a steadying anchor in the chaos.
Marcus's eyes snapped to her, still burning with wrath.
She met them, refusing to flinch. "It's a burn. I'll manage. There's no need to… escalate." She lowered her gaze slightly, keeping her tone even. "Aaron doesn't need to see this."
For the briefest flicker, Marcus's jaw tightened, then he exhaled slowly, as the fury reined back into a controlled simmer.
Nina swallowed hard. She was feeling the reprieve but also the humiliation that came with it. For the first time in years, Marcus had scolded her in front of everyone. Openly. Coldly. Her stomach churned with rage, but she kept her head bowed.
"Leave," Marcus ordered flatly.
Her nails dug into her palms, but she curtsied stiffly and retreated, each step heavy with fury. This isn't over…
First Aid Room – Later
Alexa now sat on the small cot, as she rolled her skirts carefully above her knees as she tapped at the reddened skin with a cool cloth. The sting made her wince, but she worked quietly and methodically.
So this is what it comes to… she thought quietly, her eyes were narrowing. She couldn't stand it. She couldn't stand seeing me there—with them. So she lashed out.
Her fingers hesitated as she pressed another damp cloth against the angry mark.
That wasn't clumsy. That was... deliberate.
And yet… she shook her head. "Focus." She said murmuring it like a mantra. "This is nothing. You've endured worse."
Her reflection in the small cabinet mirror immediately caught her eye, as for a moment, she didn't see a nanny in a grand mansion, rather she saw herself again—the assassin trained never to trust, never to soften.
Still, Marcus's fury… Aaron's defense… they stirred something dangerously unfamiliar inside her chest.
No. Don't let this house get under your skin. Remember why you're here.
Immediately, her lips pressed into a thin line as she wrapped the gauze carefully around her leg, tying it off with steady fingers.
Then a knock came at the door.
"Enter," she called softly, though her tone was a little wary.
The door opened slowly, and Marcus stepped in, and behind him trailed a woman in her late thirties with a calm, professional air—Lucille, the household nurse, who was summoned on Marcus's command. She carried a small satchel of ointments and supplies.
Marcus's gaze swept the room first—taking in Alexa, her half-done bandage, the stiff set of her shoulders, this made his eyes narrow faintly.
"You should've waited," he said lowly, but it was not quite a rebuke, it was more like frustration contained, Alexa lifted her chin. "I know how to handle a simple burn."
Aaron peeked out from behind Marcus's legs, clutching his father's coat. "Are you okay? Did it hurt a lot?"
Alexa blinked at him, taken aback. His arrogance had melted into raw worry now. She gave a small smile. "I'll survive."
Aaron scowled. "Don't joke. I was angry." He puffed his cheeks like he always did when frustrated. "She's terrible. I want her gone."
"Enough, Aaron," Marcus said firmly, although his eyes lingered on Alexa.
Lucille moved forward gently. "Miss, if you'll allow me?"
Reluctantly, Alexa simply nodded and let her take over, as the nurse knelt and began treating the wound with practiced care, Alexa's mind drifted again, restless.
He called someone in immediately… He didn't let it slide, which means he... noticed.
The thought left her unsettled, as warmth crawled somewhere she didn't want it.
Marcus, on the other hand was still standing near the doorway, as he folded his arms. His voice was low, but unyielding. "This house has enough enemies outside. I won't tolerate them inside."
Alexa froze, her eyes flicking up to his. For a moment, she wondered—was that aimed at Nina? Or her?
The silence was too heavy to answer.