The Nanny Contract

The bell above the bakery door jingled softly, cutting through the hum of ovens and the gentle clatter of trays. Emery Vale glanced up from behind the counter, brushing a smear of flour from her cheek. It was midmorning past the rush, too early for lunch-and the shop was empty except for her and Nina, who was singing off-key in the back room to an old '90s playlist.

She didn't expect anyone.

Certainly not a small, serious-faced boy standing just inside the entrance, dressed in navy slacks and a white button-down shirt, his hair a little too perfectly combed to be casual. He looked like he'd walked out of a family fortune. But his shoes were scuffed, and his lips were tight with something close to fear.

Emery leaned on the glass counter, her voice gentle. "Hey there. Did you get lost, sweetheart?"

The boy didn't answer. He didn't move. He stared at the trays of cookies with a gaze so focused it looked like hunger-or maybe grief.

She came around the counter slowly, palms open like he was a stray kitten. "I'm Emery. What's your name?"

Still no response. But he didn't run. His eyes flicked to her, then back to the cookies.

"You hungry?" she asked. "You like chocolate chip?"

He gave the tiniest nod. Barely there.

"That's my favorite too." She knelt to his level and smiled. "Tell you what. You sit down over there, and I'll bring you one fresh out of the oven. No charge."

Another nod. He moved slowly to a small corner table and sat like someone used to being watched, corrected. Controlled.

By the time she returned with a warm cookie on a napkin and a glass of milk, he was staring at the wall like he wasn't really seeing it. He blinked as she placed the plate in front of him, like he didn't expect kindness.

"You sure you're okay, honey?" she asked.

He took a bite. Didn't answer.

Emery stood and crossed her arms, frowning. Something wasn't right.

"Em," Nina called from the back. "That supply order's here-oh."

She froze when she saw the boy.

"He wandered in a minute ago," Emery explained quietly. "Not talking much."

Nina's expression shifted. Concern sharpened her features. "He alone?"

"I think so."

Before either of them could move, the bell over the door burst to life again-louder this time, angry.

Three men in dark suits stormed inside, eyes scanning the room. One spotted the boy and spoke into a discreet mic. "Target acquired."

"Jesus," Nina muttered. "Who the hell-"

Then he walked in.

Tall. Dressed in tailored charcoal. Eyes like frost and posture like he'd never been told no in his life. The room seemed to shrink around him. Emery's breath hitched.

He didn't speak right away. He just looked at the boy-who had frozen mid-bite-and then looked at Emery, gaze sharp enough to flay.

"What did you give my son?" he asked, voice low and lethal.

Emery blinked. "A cookie."

"That's not funny."

"Wasn't meant to be. He looked hungry."