The Boy, the Limp, and the Worst First Impression

(Hannah's POV)

If I had known the day was going to unfold the way it did, I would have stayed in bed and wrapped myself in a blanket like a responsible adult with self-preservation instincts.

But no.

Instead, I woke up early, ironed my blouse, rehearsed polite answers in my head, and convinced myself that today-finally-something good might happen.

I should have known better.

I was halfway down Oakridge Avenue, mentally repeating You are qualified, you are capable, you are not the girl who assaulted an innocent man on a hiking trail, when I heard it.

A scream.

High-pitched. Panicked.

I turned just in time to see a small boy chasing a red ball straight into the road.

And a car.

Everything slowed in that awful, cinematic way that never happens when you want it to.

The driver didn't see him.

The boy didn't see the car.

And my body moved before my brain could start screaming sensible objections.

"Hey!" I shouted, dropping my bag.

I ran.

I don't remember thinking this could hurt. I don't remember thinking this could kill me. I just remember the sound of tires screeching and the feel of small arms colliding with my waist as I grabbed him and twisted us both out of the way.

The impact was sharp and immediate.

Pain shot up my leg as we hit the pavement, the world spinning violently. The ball rolled harmlessly to the curb as the car screeched to a stop inches away from us.

For a moment, everything was noise and chaos and adrenaline.

Then silence.

The boy stared at me with wide, shocked eyes.

"You okay?" I asked breathlessly, wincing as I tried to sit up.

He nodded quickly. "I-I was just playing."

"Yeah," I said weakly. "Roads are terrible playgrounds."

A woman rushed toward us, panic written all over her face.

"Oh my God-Adam!" she cried, pulling him into her arms. Then she turned to me. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

I tried to stand.

That was when my leg betrayed me completely.

I hissed in pain, grabbing my knee as it buckled.

"Are you hurt?" she asked urgently.

"I'm fine," I lied automatically, because that's what women do even when they're clearly not. "Just-uh-gravity and I had a disagreement."

She frowned. "You should see a doctor."

"I have an interview," I blurted, immediately regretting it.

Because when you're injured, late, and trying not to cry in public, priorities apparently leave the building.

She hesitated, then helped me to my feet. Adam clung to her hand, staring at me like I'd just performed a magic trick.

"Thank you," he said solemnly.

"You're welcome," I replied. "Try not to give your mother a heart attack again."

He grinned.

I limped away minutes later, pain radiating with every step, my shoe filling with an uncomfortable warmth that suggested bruising-or worse.

By the time the Walton estate gates came into view, I was sweaty, flustered, and desperately trying not to look like I'd just survived a low-budget action scene.

Which, in hindsight, I failed spectacularly.

---

The maid who attended to me kept looking at me in a disbelieving way before directing me to the garden for my interview.

The garden was impossibly beautiful.

Perfect hedges. Stone paths. A fountain that probably cost more than my tuition.

And standing at the center of it all, looking like a model from a magazine carved into the landscape itself, was Benjamin Walton.

The man from the hiking trail.

Of course he was.

Because apparently the universe has a dark sense of humor.

Our eyes met, and I could practically hear the record scratch.

He looked... put together. Calm, insanely handsome. Controlled. The kind of man who probably woke up looking like this, while I looked like someone who had wrestled fate and lost.

"Miss Milton," he said, his tone cool.

"Mr. Walton," I replied, forcing a smile that probably came out more like a grimace.

His gaze flicked downward.

To my leg.

Which was, unfortunately, betraying me by refusing to function normally.

He frowned slightly. "Are you injured?"

"Oh," I said lightly. "No. This is just my natural walk. Very trendy."

Silence.

He stared at me.

I sighed. "Okay, yes. I'm injured. But I promise I'm not contagious."

He motioned for me to sit, but his expression had shifted-closed, guarded.

"This interview," he said carefully, "is about responsibility."

"Yes," I said quickly. "And I'm very responsible. Usually. Today is just... an off day."

His jaw tightened.

"And the incident on the trail," he added. "Combined with your appearance now-"

Oh.

Oh no.

"I wasn't drunk today," I blurted.

That was not the defense I meant to lead with.

His eyebrow lifted slightly. "I didn't accuse you of anything."

"You were about to," I said. "I can feel it."

A pause.

Then he exhaled slowly. "Miss Milton, I need someone reliable around my children. Someone stable. I can't afford-"

"You think I'm an alcoholic," I said flatly.

He didn't deny it.

I felt heat rise to my face.

"I had a bad night," I said quietly. "One night. I made a mistake. That doesn't define me."

He stood.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't think this will work."

The words hit harder than I expected.

I nodded stiffly, pushing myself to my feet despite the pain. "Thank you for your time."

I turned to leave.

That was when a small voice rang out.

"Daddy!"

Adam whose name I later learned was the little boy I had saved not to long ago.

He came running toward us, eyes lighting up when he saw me.

"It's her!" he exclaimed. "She saved me!"

Benjamin froze.

"She saved me from the car," Adam continued proudly. "She fell and hurt her leg but she still made sure I was okay."

Silence crashed down like a wave.

Susan stepped forward, her expression unreadable. "Sir," she said, "she's the one I told you about. The young woman who rescued Adam this morning."

Benjamin turned to me slowly.

"You," he said. "That was you?"

"Yes," I said. "Though I prefer reckless hero to public menace."

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes.

Guilt.

Concern.

He moved closer, studying my leg. "You're bleeding."

"I know," I said. "I was hoping to ignore it until it went away."

"That's not how injuries work."

"I'm learning that."

A beat.

Then, unexpectedly, he huffed out a quiet laugh.

Barely there-but real.

"Sit," he said firmly. "Before you fall and give me more reasons to worry."

As Susan helped me to the bench, Adam beamed at me like I'd just earned a medal.

Benjamin looked at me differently now.

Not as a mistake.

Not as a liability.

But as something... unexpected.

"I owe you an apology," he said finally. "And a job offer-if you still want it."

I smiled, despite everything.

"I'd be irresponsible to say no," I replied.

And just like that, my worst first impression became the beginning of something I never saw coming

The Girl Who Saved My Son.

Benjamin

I pride myself on control.

Control of my empire.

Control of my schedule.

Control of my emotions.

It is how I survived losing my wife without falling apart in front of my children.

So when I saw her again, standing in my garden like an accusation wrapped in a wrinkled blouse, my first thought was not romantic.

It was deeply, profoundly inconvenient.

I recognized her instantly.

Same eyes.

Same voice that had screamed at me on a cliff like I was seconds away from leaping to my death.

Same woman who had introduced a plank of wood to my skull and then fled the scene like a startled deer.

Hannah Milton.

The universe, it seemed, was not done with me.

Joe had warned me the tutor candidate was arriving. I'd agreed to the interview out of obligation, not interest. The file said she was intelligent. Reliable. Highly recommended.

The woman limping toward me did not look reliable.

She looked like someone who had fought gravity and lost.

When our eyes met, I saw it-recognition, horror, resignation.

Ah. Good.

We were both suffering.

"Miss Milton," I said calmly, because screaming you hit me felt unprofessional.

"Mr. Walton," she replied, smiling too tightly.

Her posture was stiff, her movements careful. She was clearly in pain, and not hiding it well.

My gaze dropped to her leg.

Professional concern, I told myself.

"Are you injured?"

Her answer came far too quickly. "No."

A pause.

Then, "This is just how I walk."

I stared at her.

She sighed. "Okay, yes. I'm injured. But I promise I'm not contagious."

I exhaled slowly, already exhausted.

This woman had been drunk on a hiking trail. Had assaulted me. And now she stood before me visibly hurt, claiming she was fine in the universal language of people who were absolutely not fine.

This was exactly why I hadn't wanted to hire her.

"Sit," I said, gesturing to the bench.

She hesitated, then obeyed.

I studied her quietly.

The limping.

The flushed cheeks.

The defensive humor.

Everything about her screamed instability.

And my children needed stability. Not chaos.

"I reviewed your file," I began. "Your qualifications are impressive."

Her shoulders relaxed slightly.

"But," I continued, because there is always a but, "this role requires responsibility."

She nodded eagerly. "I'm very responsible."

My eyebrow lifted.

She winced. "Usually."

I folded my hands on my chest. "The incident on the trail-combined with your condition today-raises concerns."

Her eyes widened.

"I wasn't drunk today," she said.

That stopped me. Does she usually gets drunk? Maybe she's an alcoholic and if she is, she's definitely not going to be around my children.

"I didn't accuse you of anything," I said carefully.

"You were about to," she replied, too perceptive for her own good.

I hesitated.

I shouldn't have. But I did.

Because the truth was... I had assumed.

The limp.

The disheveled appearance.

The previous incident.

I'd connected dots that may not have belonged together.

"I can't afford chaos around my children," I said finally. "They've lost enough." Ever since their mother died, its been tough on them and I can't put them through another pain.

Her expression shifted then-not angry, not defensive.

Hurt.

"I had a bad night," she said quietly. "One night. I made a mistake. That doesn't define me."

I felt an unexpected flicker of discomfort.

Still, I made my decision.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't think this will work."

She nodded once, pride stiffening her spine.

"Thank you for your time."

She stood-and nearly fell.

Instinctively, I stepped forward.

But she caught herself and turned away.

And then-

"Daddy!"

Adam's voice cut through the garden like a bell.

My youngest son came running toward us, face bright, energy unrestrained.

"It's her!" he shouted excitedly. "She saved me!"

I froze.

"What?" I asked sharply.

Adam reached her side, grabbing her hand like she belonged there.

"She saved me from the car," he said proudly. "She fell and hurt her leg but she still made sure I was okay."

The world tilted.

I turned to Susan, who had gone pale.

"Sir," she said carefully, "she's the woman I mentioned earlier. The one who rescued Adam this morning."

I looked back at Hannah.

Slowly.

"You," I said. "That was you?"

She lifted her chin. "Yes. Though I prefer reckless hero to public menace."

The words hit harder than I expected.

Because suddenly, everything made sense.

The limp.

The pain.

The timing.

Shame crept in-unwelcome, but deserved.

"You're bleeding," I said, stepping closer.

She glanced down. "I know. I was hoping to ignore it until it went away."

"That's not how injuries work."

"I'm learning that."

Against my will, a sound escaped me.

A laugh.

Quiet. Surprised. Real.

I hadn't done that in a long time.

"Sit," I said firmly. "Before you fall and give me more reasons to worry."

Susan helped her back onto the bench. Adam hovered nearby, beaming like he'd orchestrated this entire moment.

I crouched slightly to examine her leg, keeping a respectful distance.

"You should have gone to a hospital," I said.

"I had an interview," she replied.

I shook my head. "Unbelievable."

"Yes," she agreed. "I get that a lot."

I straightened, meeting her eyes.

"I owe you an apology," I said. "I made assumptions."

Her lips parted in surprise.

"And," I added, because apparently today was about personal growth, "I owe you thanks. You saved my son."

She smiled then.

Not triumphant.

Not smug.

Just... warm.

"I'd do it again," she said simply.

That did something to my chest.

"I'd like to offer you the position," I said. "If you're still interested."

Her smile widened. "I'd be irresponsible to say no."

Adam cheered.

Susan's jaw tightened.

And I realized-too late-that hiring Hannah Milton was going to change everything.

Because she wasn't careful.

She wasn't quiet.

She wasn't predictable.

And somehow...

She already mattered.

---

Meeting the Children

Hannah

If anyone had asked me two weeks ago where I'd be right now, I would have laughed so hard I might have choked on my own sarcasm.

"I'll be a live-in tutor at the Walton Estate," I would have said.

"Walton?" they'd ask.

"Yes. Billionaire. Rich. Scary. Potentially homicidal if I screw up. No pressure."

They'd probably call the men in white coats after that one. And yet... here I was, standing in front of a colossal gate that practically screamed you do not belong here, gripping my bag like a lifeline.

I took a deep breath. Okay. I could do this, I'm only here to meet the children and go over the plans and schedule before I finally move in. I could be responsible. Polite. Charming. Totally competent. I was not going to trip over a stone, spill coffee on anyone, or-God forbid-hit anyone with a plank.

My nervousness made me forget I was limping.

I tried to remind myself that I had saved a child from being hit by a car just yesterday. Surely that counted for something.

As the gates opened, I noticed the driveway stretched farther than my entire college campus. The estate itself was huge-manicured hedges, fountains that probably required a small army to maintain, and a front door that could double as a castle gate.

I reminded myself to breathe.

"Good morning!" I called out as I approached the door, trying to sound cheerful but calm, professional. Not panicked. Not sweaty. Not like I had just wrestled traffic and survived.

A maid-I assumed-opened the door, eyebrows raised, clipboard in hand.

"You must be Miss Milton," she said, voice polite but tinged with curiosity.

"That's me," I said, offering a smile.

She glanced at my leg. Limp. Bandage. Slight bruise. Yep, they'd notice. "Right this way."

I followed her into the estate, the kind of building that made me want to whisper excuse me, may I live here? just to feel slightly less intrusive. The floors gleamed as though a team of angels polished them nightly. I tried not to imagine walking across it in my sneakers from earlier.

Then it happened.

A small, human-shaped missile came barreling down the hallway toward me.

"Miss! Miss!"

I turned, heart in my throat.

And collided with the source of panic-a small boy about six years old, arms flailing like he'd just discovered gravity and hated it.

"Oh no," I muttered.

"Don't worry!" I said instinctively to myself. "I've got this."

Because what else do you say when a six-year-old charges at you full speed?

And just like that, I realized... I had met Adam Walton, the youngest of the three children I was now responsible for helping educate. And judging by his grin, he already knew I was about to be thoroughly tested.

"You're Adam!" I said, crouching to his level. "Hi! Nice to meet you. I heard you're the fastest boy in the estate."

"Faster than Daddy!" he shouted, puffing out his chest. "I almost got hit by a car yesterday but she saved me!" he said to the maid.

I froze, remembering the incident of yesterday. The pain in my leg, the adrenaline, the panic. And now I was being hailed as a hero by a six-year-old who had apparently announced it to the entire staff over and over again.

"Uh..." I laughed nervously. "Yes. That was me. Hero. Slightly battered, but alive. We'll call it a win."

Adam's eyes sparkled. "You're my hero! I like you!"

I blinked. Okay. Not terrifying. Cute, maybe. But definitely, definitely chaotic.

And then I heard it: the soft shuffle of a much larger presence.

He was here.

Benjamin Walton.

I turned-and froze. There he stood,looking so beautifully framed by the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Calm. Powerful. Handsome. Annoying. And terrifying, all at once.

"Adam," he said evenly, voice like polished marble.

Benjamin's lips twitched ever so slightly. Something like a smile-but not quite. Eyes narrowed, assessing. Judging. Calculating.

I swallowed. And said nothing. Because honestly, words seemed inadequate in front of someone like him.

Susan appeared at his side-Susan, I later learned that she's the Head manager, nanny, orchestrator of household sanity, whatever that is. She gave me a measured glance, one of those looks that silently says you're new and I'm suspicious, but we'll see.

Benjamin straightened. "Miss Milton, come with me. Let's discuss your responsibilities."

I followed, limping slightly, trying to look dignified. Which is a challenge when your leg is throbbing and your heart is doing weird things every time he glances at you.

---

The meeting was... informative.

Benjamin outlined his expectations with military precision. Homework, manners, schedules, tutoring sessions, extracurriculars. All of it. My notebook filled faster than my brain could process.

"And," he said finally, "I need someone I can trust around my children. Responsible, reliable, observant, proactive."

"Yes," I said quickly. "Totally. Absolutely. Usually. Today excepted."

He raised an eyebrow. "Today excepted?"

I flushed. "I mean... it's been... eventful so far."

He glanced at Adam, who gave me a thumbs-up. And then Benjamin's expression softened slightly. But just slightly. Enough to let me know he noticed I wasn't completely reckless.

We moved on to Elena and Alex, who were far more skeptical. Fourteen and ten, respectively, with opinions sharper than their father's briefcase collection. They studied me like a new species. I smiled. Too hard. Blinked. Limped. Waved. Hoping they would interpret my chaos as... charm.

Elena crossed her arms. "You saved him?," she said bluntly.

"Yes," I admitted. "But he's okay now. And we bonded over danger and adrenaline."

Alex's eyes lit up. "You saved Adam? Cool! Can you do magic too?"

"Magic?" I asked, trying to keep a straight face.

"Yes," he said seriously. "Like disappearing snacks. Or turning homework into fun."

I laughed. "I'll work on it."

Benjamin watched silently, his eyes occasionally flicking to me, the children, and back. There was judgment there, yes-but also... something softer. Concern, maybe. Approval, possibly. And definitely curiosity.

By the end of the first day, I had survived Adam's endless questions, Elena's sharp tongue, Alex's mischief, and Benjamin's inscrutable gaze.

I collapsed onto my bed later the moment I got back, exhausted. But alive. Heroism still intact. And somewhere deep inside, a small spark of something... hopeful.

I need all the strength and luck I can get to survive my first official day and moving in at the Walton's tomorrow.

Because for all his control, his poise, his wealth, and his intimidating presence, Benjamin Walton's eyes had betrayed something he was trying very hard to hide and I'm not sure if that scared me... or thrilled me.

---