Chapter 8

Evelyn didn't dare speak another word after the little boy turned his nose up at her.

The silence stretched uncomfortably.

"It's awkward, isn't it?" the boy finally said.

His sister nodded in agreement.

Evelyn remained silent.

"Miss, you can call my father right now and tell him you don't want to babysit us," the boy suggested coldly.

He was surprisingly hostile for his age.

"I never said I didn't want to take care of you," Evelyn clarified quickly.

She wouldn't dare refuse her boss's children. Dominic Blackwood would have her head for lunch.

"If you really want to take care of us, then act like it," the boy snapped, clearly disliking the tense atmosphere.

This babysitter was much worse than the others.

Evelyn sighed internally.

She should've checked her horoscope before leaving home today.

"Come on, Alex," the little girl said, noticing the woman's discomfort. She tugged her brother's sleeve angrily.

Evelyn exhaled in relief as the two children disappeared into the bathroom.

Inside the bathroom:

"Big brother, why are you so mean to the pretty lady?" the sister whispered.

"She has an agenda," Alexander replied solemnly. "All these beautiful women only pretend to like us because they want to marry Dad."

"They want to marry Dad?" Isabella blinked in confusion.

"At least the others fake it better," Alexander muttered. "This one can't even do that!"

If this woman married their father, she'd never treat them well.

"Great-grandpa says we shouldn't judge people so quickly!" Isabella insisted.

"I don't care!" Alexander's face turned red with anger. "I'll only ever have one mother - the woman who gave birth to me!"

Isabella pouted. "Great-grandpa said we were planted in the garden like flowers!"

"Idiot!" Alexander stormed out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Evelyn jumped at the noise.

Such temper for such small children!

"I'm sorry," Evelyn said quickly. "I'm not very good with kids. That's why everything feels so awkward."

"It's all Alex's fault!" Isabella declared loudly.

Evelyn turned to the fuming boy. "Would you like to watch some cartoons?" She picked up the remote. "How about Peppa Pig or Paw Patrol?"

"That's for babies!" Alexander scoffed.

Evelyn's smile faltered.

Another uncomfortable silence settled over them.

"Miss, why don't you ask how old we are?" Isabella suggested helpfully.

Evelyn seized the opportunity. "How old are you?"

"I'm five, and so is Alex."

"Do you go to school?" If they did... today was Thursday.

"We have private tutors," Isabella explained. "But Daddy said he wanted to take us out today. He promised us a ride on the big Ferris wheel."

"I see," Evelyn nodded.

"Give me your phone. I want to call my father," Alexander demanded.

Evelyn blinked but handed it over immediately.

Alexander searched through her contacts but found nothing. No phone number. No WhatsApp. Nothing.

"You don't have any way to contact my dad?" he asked suspiciously.

Evelyn shook her head. "No."

"You're lying," Alexander accused.

"I told you she's not one of those stepmom-wannabes!" Isabella rolled her eyes dramatically.

Alexander looked guilty and avoided Evelyn's gaze.

Suddenly, everything clicked for Evelyn.

"So that's why you've been so cold," she said gently. "Let me explain something to you both."

She looked from Alexander to Isabella. "Your father left you with Sebastian, who was busy with work, so he asked me to watch you temporarily. There's absolutely nothing between your father and me. We're just employer and employee."

Alexander studied her carefully.

Evelyn continued honestly, "Your father and I live in completely different worlds. Some people are born into privilege, others aren't. We have different needs, different circles. Those worlds don't mix. Do you understand?"

"No..." Isabella shook her head.

Evelyn turned to Alexander.

"I get it," he said. "Dad's elite class, you're working class."

Evelyn burst out laughing. "Ouch, but yes. The gap between your father and me is enormous. You don't need to worry - even if your father were the last man on earth, I would never become your stepmother. Understand now?"

Isabella nodded slowly, though still somewhat confused.

"Good. Now let's start over." Evelyn smiled. "I'm Evelyn Sinclair. You can call me Miss Sinclair or just Eve."

"I'm Isabella Blackwood, like a beautiful rainy day!" the girl announced proudly.

"I'm Alexander Blackwood. Call me Alex or Xander." The boy's hostility had noticeably decreased.

Isabella?

Like a rainy day?

Alexander Blackwood?

Alex?

Xander? Isabella?

Evelyn suddenly felt an odd connection to these children.

With the misunderstanding cleared, the kids quickly warmed up to her.

She canceled her dinner plans with coworkers.

While her colleagues returned to work after their meal, Evelyn's new mission was clear - take care of the boss's children.

At first, she was overly cautious, terrified any scraped knee might cost her job. But soon, she found herself rolling on the carpet with them, her heart aching with bittersweet joy.

Her own child would be about their age now.

When she looked at their happy faces, she could almost see her own baby.

How was that child? Was she happy?

That evening, they dined at the hotel restaurant.

Isabella sat properly for exactly three minutes before drooling over another table's fried chicken.

"Wipe your mouth, it's disgusting!" Alexander scolded.

Evelyn quickly dabbed Isabella's chin with a napkin.

"Does your father not allow fried chicken?" she asked sympathetically. If her daughter craved something this badly, she'd make an exception.

Isabella nodded, eyes still glued to the golden crispy chicken. She was so distracted she dropped her fork.

Evelyn signaled a waiter.

Ten minutes later:

Two pieces of fried chicken arrived.

Alexander didn't take any, pushing both toward his sister. Though clearly tempted, he declared, "You can have them all. Dad says real men stick to their principles."

Evelyn remained silent but was deeply impressed. This five-year-old's self-control was remarkable.

Successful adults often made their journeys look effortless. But no one saw their sacrifices, their restraint.

Was Dominic Blackwood like that?

This serious, guarded little boy was clearly his father's miniature version.