
Getting A Mom: Baby Sitting His Daughter
Desperate for a way out of rejection and poverty, Pearl Augustine accepts a nanny job with an outrageous salary-working for billionaire Ace Warren. What she doesn't expect is his daughter.
Mia Warren is spoiled, sharp-tongued, and feared by everyone in the mansion. Behind her cruelty is a lonely child longing for a mother. As Pearl becomes the only one who can reach her, walls begin to fall-especially those around Ace, a grieving man hiding behind wealth and control.
What started as "just a job" quickly turns into something dangerous: attachment.
Sometimes, healing begins where you least expect it.
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Chapter 6
Chapter 6
(Lonely in the Mansion)
Pearl let out a ragged sigh as the taillights of the limousine faded down the driveway. Mia was gone, but the silence she left behind pressed down like a physical weight. Pearl’s hands moved automatically, tidying the breakfast nook, stacking bowls and wiping crumbs, as if every surface could be polished enough to erase her anxiety.
She had barely registered the soft tread of Italian leather on marble before a wall of charcoal wool was inches from her face.
The bowls slipped from her hands, clattering across the floor with a deafening ring. Her heart jumped into her throat.
“Good morning… Mr Ace,” she stammered, voice trembling.
“Morning.” His eyes didn’t flicker, but the air around him thickened, taut and predatory.
He bypassed her, moving toward the chrome coffee machine with a predator’s grace. Pearl froze in place, realizing she’d overstepped… again.
“I just wanted to get everything in order before you left,” she added, breath catching in her chest.
He hummed, the sound low and deliberate, as he watched the dark liquid swirl into his cup.
“Your job here is to look after Mia. She’s stubborn, but she’s…” A rare, fleeting smile tugged at his lips. “…she’s a lovely girl. You shouldn’t be wasting time on household chores.”
Pearl’s stomach twisted. She wanted to nod, to say something clever, but all she could do was swallow. Invisible. Be invisible. Don’t mess this up.
“Yes, but I wanted to—”
“Do not! Interrupt! When I am speaking!”
The snap of his voice cracked like lightning. Pearl flinched, a shiver running down her spine. This house has a rhythm… and I am not part of it yet. Not fully.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered, trying to steady her trembling hands.
Ace took a slow, deliberate sip of coffee. “What is your name again?”
“Pearl. Pearl Augustine.”
“Pearl.” The name rolled off his tongue like a coin, heavy and deliberate. “You have a lot to learn.”
He turned and strode into the living room.
Pearl hesitated for a heartbeat, weighing her next move. Follow him. Observe. Learn. Any slip could cost me more than just a bad impression.
She grabbed her cleaning gloves and hurried after him, heart hammering in her chest.
“The chef, the cleaning staff, and the gardener are all on leave,” Ace said without turning. “They return next week.”
Pearl nodded, biting her lip, her mind racing through menus, schedules, and her mental checklist. Mia. Meals. Bedtime. Rules. Don’t fail. Don’t be late. Don’t be obvious.
“Your primary focus is Mia. Get her to bed early. Be firm but fair. When she returns from school, she’ll want to discuss her day. Listen to her.” He paused, eyes piercing hers.
“My rules are simple. I value my privacy above all else. Do not disturb me for trivialities. If it doesn’t involve my daughter’s immediate well-being, I am not to be bothered. I am your boss. You answer to me. If you need anything, call the driver. He will handle your transport.”
Pearl swallowed hard, nodding silently. Every word a rule, every glance a warning. I have to navigate this perfectly… one misstep, and it will all unravel.
“I have a question,” she said, her voice small but steady.
“Go ahead.”
“Since the staff is away… can I prepare the meals? For Mia, and—if it’s alright—for you as well?” She drew a deep breath. “I respect your boundaries, sir. I won’t be a problem.”
Ace studied her, sharp eyes assessing every nuance in her posture, every tremor in her voice.
“Mia is particular about her palate. You can handle her meals. I will manage my own.”
Pearl let out a quiet exhale, though her heart still thundered. Control the chaos. Be precise. Don’t let him see you sweat.
“Alright. No problem, Ace.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Pearl could almost hear the whirring of her own thoughts. Every action is measured. Every word recorded. Breathe. Survive today.
Ace’s brow arched, expression shifting from cold to a fleeting curiosity.
“Are we on friendly terms now, Miss Augustine?”
Pearl felt the blood drain from her face. “No, sir. I… I’m sorry.”
He didn’t respond. He turned and walked out, the click of the lock resonating like a judgment. Pearl sank into a chair, pressing her hands to her face. Like father, like daughter. I am in deep now… and there’s no way out but forward.
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A good-for-nothing young lady, a crude village wench, a vicious devil...
Until one day--The world-famous life-saving medical sovereign is her.The enigmatic top forensic specialist is her.The grandmaster hacker hunted across the globe is also her.
One hidden identity of the young miss came to light after another.Shocked and dumbfounded, the crowd fell to their knees to beg for forgiveness.
In an instant, Evie was cornered by the mysterious powerhouse.Hartwell's voice lured and mesmerized:"Darling, you have countless secret identities. Would you mind taking on one more, being my wife!"

9.0
Adaline Poole thought she had escaped her family's toxic corporate grip by moving to London and adopting a stray cat named Monty.
But when she returns to her empty apartment, her father delivers a chilling ultimatum: he has kidnapped the cat and will euthanize it by morning unless she accepts an arranged marriage with Barron Cooke, a notoriously elusive billionaire.
Her entire family becomes complicit in her sale. Her mother demands she secure their elite status, and her brother secretly spies on her social media to feed Barron her every move. Horrified to discover Barron is a thirty-three-year-old "fossil" twelve years her senior, Adaline resorts to sabotage. She goes to a Soho club, takes a scandalous photo with a frat boy, and sends it to the old billionaire to disgust him into canceling their upcoming dinner.
But her rebellion backfires horribly when the frat boy spikes her drink with a powerful narcotic. As her body burns with a terrifying, feverish heat, she collapses in a dark corridor. Stripped of her phone and betrayed by her bloodline, she is left utterly defenseless as a predator approaches to drag her away.
Suddenly, the heavy fire door is kicked open by a towering, terrifyingly handsome stranger who effortlessly neutralizes her attacker.
"Please... help me," Adaline begs, deliriously throwing her burning body into his arms.
She has absolutely no idea that the handsome savior she is clinging to is Barron Cooke himself.

8.9
My father was marrying a gold-digger, the mother of my cheating ex-boyfriend.
To end the charade, I crashed their luxury wedding with a ten-foot funeral wreath.
In front of hundreds of elites, my father slapped me across the face, calling me a vicious bitch while his new wife smiled in victory.
I triggered the estate's fire system to ruin them, but a terrifying stranger in the VIP section bypassed my military-grade hack in seconds.
He was Kavon Velasquez, a dangerous billionaire heir who had been missing for twelve years.
Instead of exposing me, he shielded me from my father's second blow.
When my pathetic ex tried to drag me away, I grabbed Kavon and kissed him to humiliate my ex.
I shoved a $500,000 check into Kavon's pocket as hush money and left.
I thought that was the end of it.
But why did this apex predator move into the penthouse right next to mine at 2 AM?
Why did he violently crush my ex's face the next morning just for grabbing my arm?
"She is my woman. If you ever come within ten feet of her again, I will bury you."
I didn't understand why a man with lethal skills was suddenly hunting me.
Then I found out he had just blackmailed my father with undeniable proof of corporate money laundering.
His demand wasn't money. It was me.
He ordered my father to announce our engagement by tomorrow sunset, and this dangerous game officially began.

9.2
Arla was supposed to marry Clinton Freeman, the perfect fiancé who had promised to love her and protect her five-year-old son.
But instead, the cold steel of a dagger pierced her chest.
As she collapsed onto the freezing basement floor, she watched her adoptive sister Blair laugh.
"Look at her," Blair sneered, kicking her son's small, blue, lifeless body.
Clinton stood there, calmly wiping the bloody blade on a pristine handkerchief.
In her dying moments, the horrifying truth became clear. Her fiancé and her adoptive family had been plotting all along to steal her massive trust fund.
To break her, they had secretly tortured her child. Clinton had watched Blair pierce the little boy's arms with sewing needles, rewarding him with candy to keep him silent.
Arla's lungs burned with the taste of copper and ash.
She couldn't understand why the family she trusted could be so monstrous, or why they had to brutally murder an innocent child just for money.
The darkness swallowed her whole, drowning her in suffocating hatred and absolute despair.
Then, she gasped for air.
The concrete floor was gone, replaced by the silk sheets of a hotel penthouse suite.
Arla had been reborn to the exact night six years ago—the very day Blair first dragged her son into the dark attic.
This time, she picked up a solid silver letter opener, ready to burn them all to the ground.

8.0
Aliya woke up in a dingy, freezing apartment with a throbbing headache, only to realize a horrifying truth.
She had transmigrated into the American romance novel she read just last night, becoming the ultimate vicious supporting character. The exhausted man walking through the front door was Cyrus Pace, an amnesiac billionaire currently living under the delusion that he was a broke laborer.
The original owner had trapped him with fabricated memories of being childhood sweethearts. Worse, she relentlessly abused him. Her phone was filled with toxic texts calling him a useless loser, and she had just staged a psychotic hunger strike to force him to buy a designer bag. Cyrus already looked at her with bone-deep, visceral disgust. In the original plot, the moment he regained his memory, his ruthless revenge would send her straight to a maximum-security prison for the rest of her life.
"Are you done playing your hunger strike game?"
Hearing his cold, mocking voice, the sheer terror made Aliya's blood run cold. How was she supposed to survive living with a future tyrant who already despised her? Every time his massive shadow fell over their cramped, shared mattress, her heart stopped. A single wrong move—even a microscopic mistake like accidentally crossing a physical line—would completely seal her doom.
Staring at the torn box of condoms hidden under the bed, Aliya made a desperate, life-or-death decision.
She had to completely rewrite her toxic persona, secretly hustle a high-commission real estate job, and save enough money to flee the country before the billionaire remembered exactly who he was.

9.0
Seventeen years after going missing, Brooklyn was finally brought back to her ultra-wealthy biological family.
But instead of a tearful reunion, her parents and sisters treated her like infectious garbage, mocking her cheap clothes and calling her a country bumpkin.
They dumped her into a remedial class to hide her away, cut off her allowance, and threatened to lock down her trust fund to force her into absolute submission.
One night, Brooklyn stood in the shadows of the estate and overheard a conversation that shattered everything.
She hadn't wandered off as a child.
Her parents had deliberately thrown her away because a fake fortune teller claimed her birth chart was a jinx to the family's wealth.
They felt zero remorse, only plotting to banish her again the moment she turned eighteen.
Her biological father thought he was putting a leash on a helpless, uneducated girl by cutting off her pocket change.
He had no idea that Brooklyn was the anonymous VIP who casually dropped sixty million dollars on an emerald at the city's most exclusive auction.
He didn't know she was the elusive medical genius that the world's most powerful billionaires were currently tearing the city apart to find.
The last microscopic shred of hope for a family withered into cold ash in her chest.
"Lock down my trust fund?"
She pulled out her encrypted phone and activated her shadow networks, severing herself entirely from their pathetic surveillance.
Since they believed she was a jinx, she was going to show them exactly what a real curse looked like.