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He Chose The Nanny, I Chose Revenge Novel Cover

He Chose The Nanny, I Chose Revenge

Clara came home from a fourteen-hour board meeting to the sound of a piercing scream in the playroom. When she rushed in, she found her husband, Chadwick, kneeling on the floor in a panic. But he wasn't looking at their five-year-old son, Leo, who had a massive bleeding welt on his forehead. Instead, Chadwick was trembling as he held the nanny's daughter, Autumn, who barely had a microscopic scratch. "She needs ice. And antibacterial ointment," Chadwick snapped, carrying the nanny's daughter away and leaving his bleeding son behind. From that moment, the nightmare only escalated. Chadwick ordered Clara to cook a three-hour meal for the nanny's kid, threw away Leo's favorite toys because Autumn sneezed, and even secretly took the nanny and her daughter on Leo's promised Disney trip. The final humiliation came at the Met Gala. Right before their sponsor speech, Chadwick received a frantic call from the nanny claiming Autumn was having a panic attack. He abandoned Clara in front of hundreds of flashing cameras, sprinting out of the ballroom. Clara stood completely alone, the humiliation eating through her veins like acid. She couldn't understand how a father could call the nanny's kid his "little princess" while watching his own son cry. Why was he treating his own flesh and blood like garbage just to play savior to another woman's child? Suddenly, the blinding camera flashes were blocked by a massive shadow. Erasmo Chase, the heir to New York's largest financial dynasty, stepped out of the darkness and shielded her. "A man like that is unworthy of your grief, Ms. Best," he whispered, pressing a silk handkerchief into her trembling hand. Looking at the sharp profile of the powerful man beside her, Clara's shock hardened into a lethal, cold fury. She was going to dump her family's shares, crash the board, and make Chadwick lose absolutely everything.
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Chapter 3

Clara gripped the brass handle of the front door.

The cold draft from the elevator corridor hit her face.

Chadwick lunged forward. His hand slammed against the doorframe, stopping her from pulling it open any further.

"Don't do this," Chadwick hissed. He kept his voice low so the staff wouldn't hear. "Do not throw a tantrum like a child."

Clara tilted her head. She looked him dead in the eye.

"I'm not the one demanding my exhausted wife cook a three-hour meal for a nanny's child," she whispered back.

Before Chadwick could respond, the swinging door to the kitchen pushed open.

Maura, the loyal elderly housekeeper who had been with Clara's family for decades, fiercely protective of Clara and Leo, stepped out carrying a silver tray.

Maura took one look at the tension at the front door and cleared her throat loudly.

"Dinner is served in the formal dining room, ma'am," Maura announced. Her eyes darted sharply toward Dorcas.

Clara exhaled slowly. She let go of the brass handle.

She wasn't going to make a scene in front of Maura.

"Come on, Leo," Clara said. She turned and walked toward the dining room.

The long mahogany table was set for five. The crystal glasses caught the light from the chandelier, and the silverware gleamed in perfect, intimidating rows. Five chairs were placed at even intervals, though the head of the table and the seat to its immediate right had always been understood as Chadwick’s and Clara’s.

Clara walked toward the head of the table. She stopped dead in her tracks.

Dorcas was already sitting in the chair to the immediate right of the head seat.

Clara's seat.

Dorcas looked up. Her eyes widened in exaggerated panic. She jumped up so fast her chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Mrs. Brewer. I wasn't thinking," Dorcas stammered, her hands fluttering to her collarbone.

Chadwick walked into the room. He placed a heavy hand on Dorcas's shoulder and pushed her gently back into the chair.

"Sit down, Dorcas," Chadwick said. He looked at Clara. "It's just dinner. We don't need to enforce archaic seating rules."

Clara didn't argue. She felt a strange numbness spreading through her chest.

She walked to the absolute furthest end of the long table and pulled out a chair for Leo, then sat beside him.

Maura brought out the main course. Beef Wellington.

Chadwick picked up his silver knife and fork. He sliced the thick, perfectly cooked meat on his plate into tiny, bite-sized pieces.

He didn't pass the plate to Leo.

He reached across the table and set the plate down in front of Autumn.

"Here you go, sweetie. Eat up," Chadwick said softly.

Leo stared down at his own plate. The large slice of meat sat there, oozing a little bit of red juice.

His small hands gripped his fork. They were shaking.

Leo slammed his fork down against the porcelain plate. The sharp clatter echoed in the quiet room.

"Why do you only cut her meat?" Leo yelled. His voice broke. "I need help too!"

Dorcas gasped and shrank back in her chair.

Chadwick slammed his hands flat onto the mahogany table.

"Do not raise your voice in this house!" Chadwick roared. "You are acting like a spoiled brat. Autumn doesn't have a father. You need to learn to share."

Tears spilled down Leo's cheeks.

"I don't have a father either!" Leo screamed back.

Chadwick's face turned purple. He raised his right hand, pulling it back as if he were going to strike the table again.

Clara moved faster than she ever had in her life.

Her chair screeched against the floor. She stood up and stepped in front of Leo, blocking him completely from Chadwick's line of sight.

Her eyes were black with rage.

She picked up Leo's plate.

"We are eating in his room," Clara said. Her voice was a low, dangerous hum.

She shot one look at Dorcas. The nanny quickly dropped her gaze, staring at her lap.

Clara grabbed Leo's hand and walked out of the dining room.

She didn't look back at the three of them sitting together. She didn't need to. The image was permanently burned into her brain.

In her own home, she and her son were the outsiders.

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