Chapter 3

Adrian's POV

I finally opened my eyes, looking around to know where I was. Everything felt strange; the ceiling above was white in color.

Antiseptic and methylated spirit smells filled the air. My head throbbed softly, and my throat was dry from screaming and swallowing every pain. For a while I didn't remember why I was brought there or what had happened.

Then slowly I remembered. Martin. Amelia. The pain. The birth. The baby.

I remembered the doctor saying something about doing an operation. I moved my hand to check my lower tummy, but I was relieved that I didn't give birth through cesarean section. Somehow I made it through the delivery.

Then I turned my head slightly, trying to sit up, but I felt heavy like a cloth deep in the water, making it wet. There was an IV line running into my hand, and also the beep of a machine was heard in the room. One was closer to me, calm and steady. My head was still spinning, but I was searching for the most important thing.

Then my eyes found it, the baby cradle, and I was relieved.

My baby! I looked at the cradle bed beside me, but it was empty... My baby is supposed to be there. Where is my baby!?

My heart skipped.

I cleaned my eyes with my hands. Maybe I wasn't seeing clearly, but it appeared empty. The cradle's white bedsheet was neatly spread and untouched. There was no tiny body wrapped and kept inside it. I didn't hear the cry of a baby anyway.

A cold fear ran through me. Where is my baby? What happened to my baby? My heartbeat increased.

Then the door opened and a nurse entered with a smile. Calm and looking cheerful, holding some files. I turned quickly to her, almost falling off the bed.

"Nurse!" I called out desperately in panic. "Where-where is my baby? Where's my child?" My voice cracked into a plea.

The nurse walked in and got to my side, then she smiled as though that smile could soothe the storm raging in my chest.

"Relax, Adrian," she said gently. "It was a girl."

Immediately after I heard her say that, I breathed out in relief... a girl... My little girl. My lips trembled as I whispered to myself, "Thank God. Thank God my baby is here." I forced a smile, and tears rolled down.

Ever since I got pregnant with my baby, I've thought of carrying my baby in my arms, touching her soft hair, and feeling her close, but my dreams were cut short.

As I looked at the cradle again, I realized that it was empty and my baby was supposed to be there.... Fear clawed at me again.

"Where is she?" I asked, my voice shaking again, "Did you take her to the doctor? Why isn't she lying next to me?"

The nurse's expression shifted instantly, and at that moment her smiles faded. Her eyes showed that of sadness. Her shoulders dropped instantly.

"Adrian, I'm sorry, your baby had a breathing problem, and we couldn't save her," she said. "We tried to save her, but she didn't make it."

Her words hit me like knives. My heart froze, trying to take in what she'd just said.

"What?!" My screams were heard all through the room. "My baby?! No-no! You're wrong. My baby can't be dead! No... no... she's the only thing I have in this world. Please! I want to see my baby!"

My voice rose into a sob that filled the whole room. I tried to get off the bed, but pain shot from my stomach, tearing from inside, but the nurse held my shoulders firmly.

"I want to see her!" I cried, my voice raw with grief. "She's alive! I want to see where she was buried. Please, I beg you, let me just hold her."

The nurse shook her head. Her pitying eyes dropped to the floor. "We're so sorry. The moment when we found out that she was dead, the police came and took care of everything," she said quietly. "They buried her. We're sorry you weren't able to see her before... before it happened. Please accept my condolences."

Her words made all the noise fade away. I only heard my heart beating. She was buried? She was buried without her mother?

"No! No!" I screamed, holding the white sheets. My whole body shook with despair.

The nurse tried to calm me down. She tried to comfort me in her arms, but that didn't help. I wished I was awake to see my baby. The thought of my little baby dead broke something inside of me.

As my sob slowed down, something deep inside me said with a faint voice that the nurse was lying and my baby was alive.

My heart tells me my baby is still alive, staying with new people far from here. Sometimes I felt my baby was close to me; other times I felt she was close to my bed crying.

But I was hopeless as I sat here, and there was nothing I could do. The next day they took me back to prison, but this time they showed me pity. They gave me a softer bed and showed me a small kindness because I had just given birth and lost my baby. But prison was still prison. Cold. Lonely. Quiet in chains.

I couldn't eat anymore and didn't feel like waking up the next day. I spent most nights looking at the ceiling. Losing my child is bad, but the worst is I couldn't do anything to save her.

Maybe this was how I was meant to rot in here...alone. The only thing I had in this world was gone. Emptiness filled me in.

Every night, I lay down on my bed with tears, and I prayed:

"Dear God," I said, "protect my baby. I know my baby is still alive. Somewhere. I can feel her. Please... please keep her safe for me." I cried myself to sleep believing that one day I will get the revenge I deserve.

***

Meanwhile, somewhere far away...

A car stopped beside the trees in the dark. Then, a woman walked out of a car; she was wearing a black hoodie.

"Darcy's whore had given birth to the heir of the Rodrigos..." she whispered with venom in her voice. , "I won't allow that baby to rot in jail or worse, be raised by a criminal mother...never!"

A faint, tiny cry of a baby broke the night silence as footsteps approached her with the sound of a stroller rolling on the floor.

The nurse stopped in front of her, pushing a baby who was crying in a stroller... Her hands trembled as she handed over the stroller to the woman. The woman pulled out a fat envelope filled with money while the nurse smiled in excitement.

"This is extra for the money I sent you," the stranger in the hoodie said. "This is for doing a perfect job."

"Thank you, Madame, here is the baby," the nurse said. "I made sure no one saw me coming out, and please, madam..." Don't ever mention my name if anything happens. I only did this for the money."

The woman in the black hoodie came closer to the nurse. "Don't worry. Just keep your mouth shut. Remember the plan: her baby died from a breathing problem. If you talk... you'll regret it."

The nurse's face lost its color as she nodded her head. She took the envelope and ran away into the dark.

The woman stood there for a while looking down at the tiny baby wrapped up in white sheets that was inside the stroller. The baby was calm and sleeping now.

"No one would ever know your mother was a criminal, a whore, or that you're still alive," she whispered, "not while I'm still breathing."

She reached for the baby, gently carrying her out of the stroller, then rolled the stroller quietly into the car ... She ignited the car engine, which hummed quietly, and drove off at speed into the lonely roads.

The child was laid down sleeping peacefully while she was surrounded with lies.

Taken far away from her mother, far away from the truth that would one day return.

Chapter 4 – Adrian's POV

Three years later

It has been exactly three years and a month since my baby died.

Three long, difficult, and painful years.

Some nights I wanted to end it all. Suicidal thoughts were in my mind. I even tried. But every time, the guards found me before it was too late. Maybe life still wanted me here-for a reason I didn't yet understand.

That morning, I was sitting on the prison floor after the daily exercise when the heavy iron door creaked open.

The sound always made me freeze. But this time, something was different.

Two officers walked, and one removed the handcuffs on my wrists. I frowned.

"What's going on, officer?" I asked.

They didn't answer my question. It was clear to me when one simply gave me a folded set of clean clothes-normal clothes, not the gray prison uniform. Unbelievable.

I remained calm, but my heart was pounding. Although I didn't dare say a word, I knew I felt hopeful again.

They walked me down to the entrance of the prison close to the main gate, and in nearly four years, today my eyes took a brief look at sunlight, and a cool breeze brushed my face.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, as if I'd been choking for years.

I wasn't the same woman who had been dragged in here, broken and naive... Right now, I am a changed person and determined to get vengeance... Being in prison had changed me a lot in so many ways;

Now I am stronger.

Harder.

Different.

Love had destroyed me once.

Now only one thing kept me alive.

Revenge.

At the gate, the female officer removed the cuffs completely. The sound of the metal clicking open echoed like freedom. For the first time ever, she smiled at me.

"Miss Adrian Martinez," she said softly, "congratulations. You're out on parole."

My heart skipped. "Parole?" I whispered.

She nodded. "A billionaire paid for your release. He does that for prisoners he thinks deserve another chance. You're lucky he picked you."

A billionaire? My lips parted in shock. I didn't even know anyone that rich.

The officer handed me a brown envelope. "Here's your file-your employment record, ID, and updated CV. But remember," she warned, her voice turning firm, "you must find a job soon. If not, you'll be sent back to prison. And you know how cruel it is in there."

Her words were sharp but honest. I nodded quietly. "Thank you," I managed to say.

The big gate opened, and when I moved out of the prison yard, I headed to the main road with the documents in my hand...

Then I saw people walking freely. Cars passed by, I heard music playing in the distance, and also children laughed, but I had the feeling it was not real.

I stood there, looking up with tears filling my eyes. "I'm free."

But freedom didn't mean peace. It meant starting over-with nothing.

---

Two weeks later

The money that I saved years ago is almost finished. And I can't afford to go back to my old house. I got a shabby apartment; it had cracked walls with leaking walls, but I had to manage my life before I looked for a job and fixed things.

I knew I wouldn't last another month without work.

I took my CV and went to the bar where I once worked as a dancer before everything went wrong. The owner looked at me for a moment, then frowned when he saw the word "ex-convict" on my paper.

"Get out," he said harshly. "We don't hire drug dealers and ex-convicts here."

"Please," I begged. "I just need a chance-"

He cut me off, throwing the paper back at me, which fell to the ground. "You'll scare away my customers. I can't afford trouble."

His words hit hard like a punch. But I walked out slowly, not giving up, holding back tears.

I tried going to three more places that week searching for a job. All the places I went to, I got the same cold answers:

"Sorry, we don't hire people with your record."

"It's bad for our image."

"We can't take that risk."

By the fourth rejection, I felt my hope dying, and I had no control over it.

I didn't even have enough money. I barely feed. The clothes I wore were still the ones I'd left prison in. I thought of going back to prison to eat their food at least. I thought since the world had written me off that it was better off to die.

One afternoon, I thought of ending my life so badly... I dragged myself down the street on my way to go get poison, drink, and die.

But then something happened: I stopped by the road when I saw an announcement written on a towering giant billboard in front of me.

The ad read:

"From Mr. Darcy Rodrigo, the billionaire CEO of Rodrigo's company.

Work description: Nanny for his three-year-old daughter.

Weekly payment: $10,000.

Apply at The Rodrigo Group main office."

I froze.

Ten thousand dollars?

Per week?

My mouth went dry. That kind of money could change everything. I stared at the billboard again. Mr. Rodrigo-his name sounds like the kind of man who ruled the world. And the little girl won't be hard to take care of.

Something in me lit up. Maybe... maybe this was my chance.

Without wasting a second, I ran home to get ready.

---

I took my bath immediately and changed into the cleanest clothes I had. It was a simple knee-length dress. No makeup, no jewelry. I didn't have it, so I didn't bother myself. Looking neat might work out to not looking expensive.

When I reached The Rodrigo Group building, I couldn't believe it. The skyscraper was a sleek, tall building that had glass windows. Luxurious.

I knew that working for the owner of this place was not my level, but I stepped into it anyway. My palms were sweaty as I joined the line of applicants.

But then I saw myself around women that intimidated me because my dressing was odd, like I was the applicant's house girl.

The women near me looked like models. They dressed in designer suits with matching heels. They were in heavy, flawless makeup. Their perfume filled the air with its expensive fragrance. I felt so invisible among them.

I stood at the end of the line, calm. But I could feel their eyes all over me.

One woman standing close to said with a smirk, "Are you sure you're in the right place? This isn't the cleaning staff interview."

The others laughed.

I lifted my chin and said softly, "I came for the nanny job."

Another person gave me a pity smile. "Do you know who you are applying to work for? That's Darcy Rodrigo. He's a rich single dad in the city. Every girl's dream. They would die for this job. And you..." She looked at me over slowly. "You look like a housemaid who came out from the gutters."

More laughter broke out as they made fun of me. I clenched my hands but stayed quiet.

They didn't understand. To them it was about fame, fantasy, or fake dreams. But to me it was about survival.

"Stay calm, Adrian." I murmured to myself, "You've survived worse than this."

---

Then, suddenly, the door to the main office opened. The room went silent.

Every head turned.

And there he was-Darcy Rodrigo.

He walked in holding a little girl. He was handsome. He has shiny golden hair, then a tattoo peeking just above his collar and a diamond earring glittering in his ear... He wore an expensive black suit that fit his body.

He looked like a man who carried power even when he was silent.

The women's gasp erupted.

"Oh my God, it's Darcy Rodrigo!"

"He's very handsome."

"He's looking my way! Is my lipstick okay? Is my hair okay?

They straightened their dresses and smiled like contestants in a beauty show.

Some even stood in their seductive poses and winked at him as if his gaze could crown them queen.

But me?

But I stood frozen.

I was looking at the little girl he carried on his arm. She had curly golden hair just like her father. But her eyes were just like mine.

Probably her mom is my lookalike.

I felt my knees go weak. My chest tightened.

The child looked at me, and I could swear maybe she knew me from somewhere. A strange warmth passed through me, like a forgotten memory.

Then Darcy Rodrigo's gaze swept over the line of women until his eyes met mine.

He stopped.

But I felt a strange sensation in my body the moment she stared directly at me, as if she knew me from the past...

Mr. Darcy stopped in front of us as his eyes scanned all of us in line until they locked on mine.

Those cold gray eyes refuse to leave mine as if he were staring into my soul or even stripping me naked with his eyes.

I swallowed hard; my throat suddenly went dry.... . I could feel my hands trembling by my sides.

"Don't screw this up, Adrian.... Don't you dare." I whispered to myself, but...

Why... Why is his presence so familiar?

But as I stood there, his eyes still locked on mine, one question refused to leave my mind-

Why does he feel so familiar?

And why does his little girl...

look so much like me?

Chapter 5 – Adrian's POV

I won't lie, Mr. Darcy Rodrigo was the kind of man who could make every head turn the moment he entered a room. Tall, commanding, and dangerously handsome, he was exactly the type that made women lose their breath.

But I don't care; love and attraction are useless to me. That was the reason why I was jailed, and my so-called boyfriend, Martins, the man I loved and cared for for three years, abandoned me to die. I even got married to my cousin Amelia; this was so disheartening.

I also had to remind myself firmly that I wasn't here for the looks.

I wasn't like the other ladies who were dying about the way he looks; the way they all pretended and pouted as if this was a catwalk beauty pageant made me nauseous instantly. I wasn't here to catch a rich husband or chase his money. I was here because I had no choice.

This job wasn't about luxury. It was survival.

And if I didn't get this job, I'd have nowhere else to go. Homeless. And worse was that the police might come after me again.

I knew how parole worked. They were watching me somewhere. That was why they didn't install an ankle alarm on me, and the only reason they did that was because I was good and I didn't cause them any trouble while in jail.

So yes, this job was everything. My only chance to stay free.

That prison reminded me of everything I fought so hard to forget. My dead child, so I don't want to go back. So I had to work for myself to give myself a good life.

Then I saw her.

Something strange happened when I saw his little girl. There was something about his daughter's presence that stayed with me. I couldn't understand, but I felt deeply connected to her.

Mr. Darcy himself looked just like people described him. Cold. Powerful. Unreadable.

His face was calm but cold. He's just like a man who wouldn't raise a voice to control everything.

But I felt like I had met him before, but I didn't remember where exactly, and it made me uncomfortable.

Then beside him was the man who'd taken our names earlier. He wore a fitted black suit. Neat.

He stepped forward. With his strong face, I guessed he was Darcy's assistant.

"Good afternoon, sir. These are the final applicants for Pink's nanny position," he said politely.

That's when I learned her name-Pink. So that's her name, I thought. It's a sweet name for a serious-looking little girl sitting pretty on her father's shoulder.

Darcy nodded slightly; his cold eyes were still on me, and it felt like forever, making my anxiety worse.

Before anyone else could speak, the first woman in line jumped out of her line.

"I have three PhDs," she announced proudly. "Psychology, Education, and Business. I can take care of Pink... and of you."

When she was done mentioning all the certificates she'd acquired in life, she moved close to Darcy, acting like she was adjusting her blouse to show more of her chest.

Shameless. What is she thinking? Seducing Darcy to help her get the nanny job?

Was this really how they thought they could become a child's nanny? by seducing her father like cheap mistresses? Yuck!

Darcy didn't react. His face didn't even twitch. He just looked away, unimpressed.

Then came the second woman. She smiled confidently, applying a quick layer of lip gloss before speaking.

"Childcare runs in my family. My mother was the nanny for the president's children," she bragged, biting her lip.

Darcy stayed silent, but little Pink clung to his shoulder and shook her head hard. Her lips pouted, her face full of stubbornness-she clearly didn't like the woman.

Looking at everything, I got worried. If it was this child that was picking who would be her nanny, then I had no chance at all.

I compared myself to these rich women who were well-dressed and found out I was nobody. Just an ex-convict in a plain dress with nothing but a wrinkled certificate in hand.

Still, I couldn't stay silent. Let me try.

Then, it's my turn. They were in front of me. It suddenly feels so hot here regardless of the massive air conditioners giving cold air in the office. My palms were sweaty. My throat was dry, but I had the courage to look Mr. Darcy in his eyes.

I began, "I don't have fancy degrees," I said, my voice shaking but steady with time. "But I cared for many children all my life. I worked in a small daycare where we handled many children and even took care of my younger cousins."

His face didn't even soften a bit.

But I continued, pushing through the nerves. "I know how to take care of children's tantrums, comfort them, and read bedtime stories, scraped knees-all of it. I don't have many qualifications or certificates, but I can promise you that your daughter will be safe and loved in my hands."

Then I looked at Pink. Her big eyes met mine, and I felt that pull again; everything around me went quiet. It felt like she could see something inside me-something familiar.

"I need this job, sir," I said softly. "Please. I love kids, and I'll take care of her very well."

Behind me, the women snickered.

"She's so desperate."

"Does she think tears will help?"

I ignored them. Pride didn't matter anymore. What mattered was that little girl.

That was when Mr. Darcy finally spoke with his voice deep and firm, the kind that made everyone fall silent.

"Thank you all for applying," he said slowly. "But this decision is not mine to make."

We all froze.

He adjusted Pink in his arms, his tone softening a little. "The only rule is simple: that Pink will choose who she wants as her nanny."

The room filled with shocked murmurs. My heart started pounding. A three-year-old was about to decide our fate.

Darcy turned to his daughter. "Pink," he said gently, "are you ready to choose the person you want?"

Pink nodded eagerly, holding his shoulder tightly.

He carried her to the first woman. The woman smiled sweetly, bringing out her arms to carry her. But Pink frowned and shook her head hard in disagreement.

Rejected.

The second woman tried next-same result. Pink's pout deepened, her little face full of disapproval.

One by one, she rejected every single woman in the room. Gasps spread through the hall. If all these women were rejected, it's not possible to accept me.

Then Darcy stopped in front of me. I was scared. Nervous. My heartbeat got loud, and I could hear it in my ears, or maybe he could as well.

I could barely breathe.

Everyone in that room didn't believe that Pink rejected and dismissed all the classy, wealthy, and well-dressed women one by one, even those ones that shamelessly tried to seduce her father just to get in the position of being her nanny.

Then it was my turn.

Sweat moved down my back and my forehead. My breath caught in my throat in anxiety.

I already knew. Of course no one needs to remind me that if these women couldn't win her heart, how could I?

Pink looked at me for a long time. Her eyes locked on me. And then, to my surprise, she gave out a sweet smile at me.

I never knew she could smile like that. Her smile was pretty and sweet. I smiled back at her at once. It warmed my soul, and I was no longer anxious or afraid.

Darcy's eyes shifted between us. "What about her, Pink?" he asked quietly. "Do you want her to..."

Before he could finish, Pink nodded eagerly and reached her little hands out to me.

The room went silent for a while. Everyone in that office, the women especially, opened their eyes in shock as she picked someone who wore cheap clothes and didn't put on expensive perfumes and jewelry.

I froze, looking at her in disbelief as she opened her arms to me-trusting, calm, like a child reaching for her mother.

She chose me.

I blinked my eyes twice, still shocked, and couldn't believe her reaction.

I carried her on my arm, so happy she allowed it. My mind raced on so many thoughts about why she chose me of all the people standing here. Why did she reach out for me to carry her?

All I knew was there was a connection.

But...

Wait... did she seriously do that!?