The Billionaire's Reluctant Nanny

Alessia

"I'll give the company back to your father. All you have to do is kneel and beg."

Julian's voice echoed throughout the auction room as if he wanted everyone to hear it. And they did.

"Apologize to me in front of all these people," he continued, "and I'll return every penny I took from your father's company. I'll settle all the debts. Everything." He bowed his head, savoring the moment. "Just one apology. That's all."

Alessia stared at him. Around her, the wealthiest people in the country held their breath, watching.

On the platform behind her, her father stood between two auction attendants, his gaze fixed on the floor. Enzo Romano, a man who had spent his entire life walking with his head held high, couldn't lift his eyes. Her mother sat in the front row, clutching an old photo album, the only thing she had salvaged before her home was foreclosed upon, silent tears streaming down her face.

But what had pushed her to the limit was Julian Mercer.

Her ex-husband.

He sat in the center of the front row, in the most prominent spot, like a king enjoying a show. And clinging to his arm, enveloped in a designer dress, was his lover. The woman smiled, whispering something in Julián's ear, and he laughed, a loud, satisfied sound that cut through the murmur of the crowd. They had come to witness the final, crushing defeat of the Romano family.

Alessia felt a roar in her ears, drowning out the auctioneer's voice. She walked down the aisle, her heels silent on the thick carpet, her gaze fixed on her mother. She had to reach her, offer her some support. She was only a few steps from the front row when Julián noticed her.

A slow, predatory smile spread across her face. She released her lover and stood up, her movements fluid and confident. She stepped into his path.

"Alessia," he said, his voice soft as poisoned honey. "My God. You look... good."

She stared at him, her face a perfectly expressionless mask. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

He chuckled, the sound devoid of warmth. "Still the same ice queen. I was just telling Marissa about how stubborn you are." He reached out, his fingers closing around a strand of her dark hair. He twirled it, a gesture that was once intimate but now just disgusted her. "Always have been. But," he leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that still carried in the sudden hush that had fallen around them, "I'm in a benevolent mood tonight. It's not every day a man gets to watch his ex crumble so pitifully."

A ripple of nervous laughter went through the crowd.

Alessia's blood ran cold.

"So, I'm going to make you an offer, cara," he continued, using the Italian endearment mocking her. He released her hair and stepped back, gesturing grandly to the room. "Right here, in front of everyone. A show of good faith." His eyes glittered with malice. "Kneel and apologize. Tell everyone how foolish you were to leave a man like me, how you regret your pride." He paused, letting the vile proposal hang in the air. "And I will personally put back every penny I withdraw from your father's company, the funds that... unfortunately... caused this little crash. I'll even pay off your loans. All of it. Gone. Your family's honor, restored. All for the price of a simple apology and a little humility."

The words hit her like physical blows. He had done it. It wasn't a market crash, a bad investment, or her father's failing health that had doomed them. It was him. Julian. In a calculated act of post-divorce revenge, he had withdrawn his investments, deliberately tanking Romano Industries out of pure, petty spite. He had orchestrated their ruin.

The roar in her ears returned, deafening this time. Fury clouded her senses and reasoning, With a strangled cry she lunged at him.

Her fist connected weakly with his chest, a pathetic attempt at a punch. He caught her wrists easily ,his face twisting in annoyance, and threw her to the ground. She landed hard on the polished floor, the

Alessia lay helplessly on the floor, the wine stinging her eyes, the laughter and whispers of the elite

endearment mocking her. He released her hair and stepped back, gesturing grandly to the room. "Right here, in front of everyone. A show of good faith." His eyes glittered with malice. "Kneel and apologize. Tell everyone how foolish you were to leave a man like me, how you regret your pride." He paused, letting the vile proposal hang in the air. "And I will personally put back every penny I withdraw from your father's company, the funds that... unfortunately... caused this little crash. I'll even pay off your loans. All of it. Gone. Your family's honor, restored. All for the price of a simple apology and a little humility."

The words hit her like physical blows. He had done it. It wasn't a market crash, a bad investment, or her father's failing health that had doomed them. It was him. Julian. In a calculated act of post-divorce revenge, he had withdrawn his investments, deliberately tanking Romano Industries out of pure, petty spite. He had orchestrated their ruin.

The roar in her ears returned, deafening this time. Fury clouded her senses and reasoning, With a strangled cry she lunged at him.

Her fist connected weakly with his chest, a pathetic attempt at a punch. He caught her wrists easily ,his face twisting in annoyance, and threw her to the ground. She landed hard on the polished floor, the impact bruising her bum and scraping the palm of her hand.

A gasp went through the crowd, followed by a titter of nervous excitement. Before she could even think of getting up, a shadow fell over her. A cold liquid splashed across her face and chest. The sharp, fruity scent of red wine filled her nostrils. It dripped from her chin, staining the cream-colored blouse she'd worn to try and look respectable.

"Honestly," the mistress, Marissa, cooed, holding the now-empty crystal glass. "This woman simply doesn't know her place. Julian, darling, you're far too kind. You see?" she announced to the onlookers, her voice dripping with faux sympathy. "Mr. Mercer is generously offering her a way out of the gutters, and she's too proud to take it. Some people just want to wallow in their misery."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the audience. "He's being more than fair," a portly man in a three-piece suit whispered loudly to his companion. "The Romano girl was always too headstrong for her own good."

"A little humility never hurt anyone," a woman with diamond chandelier earrings sniffed.

Alessia lay helplessly on the floor, the wine stinging her eyes, the laughter and whispers of the elite washing over her. The knots in her stomach multiplied. Her mother was frozen in her chair, tears streaming silently down her face, too horrified to move. Her father, on the stage, looked as if he might collapse. Julian stood over her, waiting, expecting her to grovel.

The choice was a simple one, laid bare for all to see. Grovel, and save her family. Or stay on her knees, a symbol of their destroyed pride, and lose everything.

Looking at her parents' distraught faces, she took a shaky breath. She would do it. She would crawl through hell for them.

Just as she was about to bow her head, the heavy doors of the auction hall slammed open.

"I believe," he said calmly, "this auction is over."