The Heiress He Mistook for a Nanny

"Do you know the organizer?" I asked.

Hayden's arrogant smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. His eyes darted to the two security guards flanking us, then back to my face.

"What kind of stupid question is that?" he snapped. "Everyone in the financial sector knows the Sinclair Group runs this summit."

"Then you should also know they despise public spectacles," I said.

I shifted Leo’s weight to my left hip and stepped directly toward Hayden. He didn't move. I didn't stop. My shoulder bumped hard against his chest, forcing him to stumble back a half-step to maintain his balance.

"Hey!" Vivian shrieked, grabbing Hayden's arm to steady him. "Are you crazy? You just assaulted a VIP guest!"

I ignored her entirely and kept walking toward the velvet ropes of the inner lounge.

Four years ago, Hayden slid a five-million-dollar mortgage contract across a sticky diner table, demanding I sign it to prove my love wasn't tied to his supposed bankruptcy. I hadn't wasted a single second considering his absurd test; I just tossed the cheap plastic couple's keychain straight into his coffee cup and walked out of his life forever.

Now, he thought a tailored suit made him a king.

"Guards! Stop her!" Hayden barked from behind me. "She doesn't have a badge! Grab her!"

Heavy footsteps pounded against the marble floor. Vivian rushed past the guards, her stilettos snapping loudly, and cut me off just inches from the VIP entrance.

"Where do you think you're going?" Vivian demanded, throwing her arms out wide to block the walkway.

Leo buried his face into my collarbone, whining softly. I rubbed his back, keeping my expression entirely neutral.

"To my seat, Vivian. Move."

She let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Your seat? In the VIP lounge? Are you delusional, Daphne? Nannies don't get seats. They stand in the corner and hold the spit-up rags."

She thrust her left hand near my face. A massive diamond tennis bracelet caught the light of the overhead chandeliers.

"See this?" she asked, her voice thick with malice. "Hayden bought this for me yesterday. Thirty thousand dollars. A real man provides for his woman. He doesn't leave her begging for scraps at a corporate event."

I offered her a faint, amused smile. I didn't say a word.

My silence infuriated her. Her face flushed an ugly shade of red.

"You think you're so superior," Vivian hissed, leaning in close. "You always walked around campus like you owned the place. Look at you now. Faded jeans. A cheap sweater. You look exactly like what you are—the help. A pathetic babysitter carrying someone else's child."

I tightened my grip on Leo. "You really shouldn't use that word, Vivian."

"What? Bastard?" Hayden laughed, walking up behind his fiancée. "Why? Does it hit too close to home? Did the father run off the second you told him you were pregnant? I always knew you were a terrible judge of character."

"My judgment was certainly flawed four years ago," I agreed quietly.

Hayden sneered. "Don't try to flip this on me. I made the smart business move. I cut dead weight. Look at my company now. Look at my net worth. I won, Daphne. You lost."

"If you won, why are you standing in a lobby yelling at a woman in a cheap sweater?" I asked.

A few businessmen standing nearby chuckled. Hayden's face flushed a deep, angry crimson.

"I am putting you in your place," he growled, stepping into my personal space again. "You think you can just wander into a high-society event and rub shoulders with billionaires? The Sinclair Group demands excellence. They demand pedigree. You are trash beneath their shoes."

"And you are their honored guest," I said, my tone flat.

"Exactly," Hayden said. "I have a scheduled sit-down with their senior investment board at two o'clock. If you are still in this building by then, I will personally see to it that you are arrested for trespassing."

"Two o'clock," I repeated, committing the time to memory. "I will be sure to keep an eye out for you."

"You won't be here," Vivian snapped. "Guards! I said take her out!"

"Ma'am," the taller security guard interrupted, finally catching up to us. He blocked my path, his hand resting near his radio. "I am going to need to see your credentials. If you don't have an invitation, I have to escort you out."

Hayden adjusted his silk tie. He looked incredibly pleased with himself.

"I told you," Hayden gloated. "You don't belong here."

The guard reached out to grab my arm.

Before his fingers could graze my sleeve, a sharp voice cut through the tension.

"Stand down, officer."

A man in a pristine charcoal vest stepped out from behind the velvet ropes. He wore a silver earpiece and carried a clipboard. The event manager.

The guard immediately dropped his hand and stepped back. "Mr. Gable. This woman doesn't have a badge. Mr. Cross here requested she be removed."

Gable didn't look at Hayden. He didn't look at Vivian. He walked straight up to me and stopped a respectful three feet away.

He bowed at the waist. A deep, formal bow that sent a ripple of shock through the small crowd of onlookers.

"I apologize for the delay," Gable said, his tone entirely deferential. "The inner tables are prepared for you and your son."

Hayden's smug expression vanished. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Vivian grabbed Gable's sleeve. "What are you doing? Are you blind? Look at her clothes! She's a nanny! She sneaked in!"

Gable smoothly pulled his arm away from her grip. "Do not touch me, miss."

"But she doesn't have a badge!" Vivian protested, her voice cracking. "Hayden is the VIP! We are the ones who should be escorted!"

"Mr. Cross is on the general investor list," Gable stated coldly. "He is assigned to table forty-two in the outer hall. This entrance is for the host family and their direct guests."

Hayden stepped forward, his face pale. "Host family? There must be a mistake. She's Daphne. She's broke. She can barely afford rent."

"I assure you, sir, there is no mistake," Gable said. He turned his back on Hayden and gestured toward the velvet ropes. Two ushers immediately unhooked the barrier.

"Please follow me," Gable said to me.

I adjusted Leo on my hip. "Thank you, Mr. Gable."

"Mommy, hungry," Leo mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"The chef has prepared a private buffet for your son at the main table," Gable informed us, smiling warmly at my son.

I walked past Hayden. He stood frozen, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. All his previous arrogance had evaporated, replaced by a deep, frantic confusion.

Vivian stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. She looked down at her diamond bracelet, then up at my faded jeans, unable to compute what was happening.

"This is insane," Vivian muttered, trailing a few steps behind us as we approached the inner doors. "She has to be sleeping with one of the event organizers. That is the only way."

Gable stopped at the oak doors leading into the private banquet hall. He reached into his breast pocket and produced a thick, gold-edged invitation card.

"Your seating credential for the inner circle," Gable said, extending the heavy cardstock toward me.

Vivian stood just over my right shoulder, refusing to walk away. She leaned forward, her eyes locking onto the credential.

The overhead light caught the embossed gold foil lettering across the top of the card.

SINCLAIR.

I snatched the card from Gable's hand and pressed it flat against my palm.