Page 8 of Triplet Trouble For My Billionaire Boss

“Good morning,” he replies, his tone unusually bright.

That catches me off guard. I glance at him, surprised. Robbie is usually quiet in the mornings—quiet in general, really. Conversations with him are sparse, and I’ve come to expect little more than polite nods or a few mumbled words.

Evelyn brings a plate of eggs and toast to the table, setting it down at my usual spot. “Here you go, sir. Let me know if you’d like anything else.”

“Thank you,” I say then turn to Robbie. “How are the pancakes?”

“They’re good,” he says with a small smile. “Evelyn made them look like dinosaurs.”

Evelyn gives a small smirk as she wipes her hands on a dish towel. “He’s a fan of the T-Rex, so I thought I’d surprise him this morning. He seems to be in a better mood than usual.”

I watch him for a moment, trying to pinpoint exactly what’s different. There’s a lightness in his expression that I can’t quite place, very unlike the usual guarded demeanor I’ve grown used to.

He’s focused now on his task, his little tongue caught between his teeth.

“You’re in a good mood this morning,” I observe.

His hazel eyes brighten, and he sits up a little straighter, letting his bacon fall to the plate. “Annie read me a story last night.”

I pause, lowering my mug. “Did she?”

Evelyn raises an eyebrow at that, glancing over her shoulder from where she’s started cleaning up.

Robbie nods, his face lighting up. “It was about a knight and a dragon. She did voices and made the dragons roar and everything. It was funny.”

The corners of my mouth twitch in what might be a smile, though I mask it with another sip of coffee. “That sounds... nice.”

“It was,” Robbie says, picking up his fork and finally digging into his pancakes. “She stayed until I fell asleep.”

I watch him for a moment, noting the unusual ease in his demeanor. It’s not just the words he’s saying—it’s the way he’s saying them. Robbie rarely volunteers information like this, let alone with such enthusiasm.

My chest tightens at the thought. Last night, I’d been so focused on getting through the gala and managing the crisis of the nanny situation that I hadn’t thought much about how Robbie would react to Annie.

I’d really only just thought about someone being in the house to watch him.

“She sounds like she was fun,” I say, trying to keep my tone neutral.

“She was,” he says, stabbing a piece of pancake with his fork. “Do you think she’ll come back?”

The question hits me harder than I expect. Robbie’s voice is so hopeful, so innocent—and very unexpected.

Evelyn pauses near the sink, glancing over her shoulder as if curious about my answer.

Uncomfortable with the audience, I set my mug down, already bracing for the disappointment I know is coming. “Annie was just helping out last night. She has her own job at the office.”

His face falls slightly, the excitement dimming in his eyes.

“Oh.”

The single syllable carries more weight than I expect, and I feel a pang of something I can’t quite name.

“I’m going to call the agency today,” I say, trying to sound reassuring. “We’ll find someone new, someone who can be here all the time.”

Robbie doesn’t respond. He stares down at his pancakes, poking at the syrup-soaked pieces with his fork. The energy that was so vibrant just seconds ago seems to have drained out of him, leaving the quiet, withdrawn version of him I’ve grown used to.

The change isunsettling, more so than I want to admit.

“Robbie,” I say after a long pause. “Is something wrong?”

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