Page 14 of Cinderella and the Daddy
But it's her eyes that get to me. Deep-set blue that shifts between sky and storm depending on the light. They're old eyes in a young face, always flickering with suspicion and a sadness that runs bone-deep.
She's learned not to trust, not to hope. Someone must’ve taught her early that the world would disappoint her.
I recognize that look because I see it in my own mirror.
We all share it.
Her. Me. Leo. Three fractured souls all under the same roof.
I monitor them through the security cameras throughout the day. I tell myself it's for their protection. But really, I just like watching her with him.
She listens when he talks about his drawings. How she lets him help her brush Mac. The gentle way she corrects his English without making him feel stupid.
She doesn't know what happened to him. Doesn't know about the scars on his back or the way he still wakes up screaming sometimes. But she treats him like he's precious anyway, like his happiness matters more than her own comfort.
Too soft. That's what she is, under all that fire and attitude. Too soft for a man like me.
I watch her catch Leo in a hug, spinning him around while Mac jumps at their feet. The kid is giggling so hard he can barely breathe.
This is what I wanted for him. What I've been trying to give him since the day I found him. Safety. Joy. The chance to be a normal kid.
But I never expected her to be the one to give it to him.
I never expected to want to keep her this badly.
The nanny appears. Her crisp uniform was a stark contrast to the chaos of grass stains and dog hair on Leo's clothes.
He groans when he sees her, his shoulders sagging in defeat.
"Time for studies, Leo," she says in accented English.
"Five more minutes?" he pleads, looking between her and Cindy with those big eyes that usually get him whatever he wants.
"Now," the nanny says firmly but not unkindly.
Cindy ruffles his hair. "Go on, kiddo. Mac and I will be here when you're done."
I watch Leo trudge toward the house, dragging his feet like he's walking to his execution. The kid's brilliant—too smart for his own good sometimes—but sitting still for lessons is torture for him. I'm homeschooling him for now. He's not ready for the social dynamics of regular school yet.
Maybe next year.
Maybe after more time with Cindy.
"Cindy," I call from the doorway. "My study. Now."
My voice cuts across the lawn, and she freezes mid-laugh. Grass stains darken her knees, and her hair has escaped its ponytail, creating a honey-brown halo around her face. For a heartbeat, she looks like any other woman enjoying a lazy afternoon with a child who adores her.
Then our eyes meet, and the mask slips back into place.
“Leo, baby, I need to talk to your dad for a minute.” Her voice stays light, but I catch the slight tremor. She's learning to read my moods, learning when the monster needs feeding.
Smart girl.
“Will you come back?” Leo's question is small—vulnerable. It guts me.
“Of course,” she promises, and the conviction in her voice makes something crack in my chest. “I'll always come back to you.”
She means it. That's what makes her dangerous.
