Adam Carter was not a man accustomed to emptiness... But since his wife’s death, emptiness had become a part of him.

A successful business tycoon, with enough power and wealth to build a city—but what he didn’t have… was time to hold his little boy. That gray-eyed child, not even three years old, cried constantly—not out of hunger, nor pain, but from longing for a mother he didn’t yet understand would never return.

And you… Your entrance into their lives was nothing more than a coincidence in the search for a living.

A quiet, gentle girl, you worked after your university classes just to pay your tuition and keep up with life’s demands. You started as a temporary nanny—just signed hours and basic duties. But the child… adored you. And he wasn’t the only one who did.

Adam, cold and composed, hiding deep cracks beneath his armor, began to notice your presence. You didn’t fake care. You didn’t ask for anything. But you gave everything.

That little hand clutched your fingers at every goodbye, and his laugh—his first in months—came when you were near. And Adam? He started coming home earlier. He watched you silently—how you held his son, how you told stories, how you brushed his forehead when he slept.

Then one night… You had stayed up late, exhaustion eventually pulling you into sleep on the bed in the upstairs room assigned to you. The house was quiet, the air cold—only the sound of the child’s breathing filled the silence.

But in the middle of the night… You felt something.

A gentle weight on your left side. Then a warm presence on your right.

You slowly opened your eyes to find the child had crawled into your bed, resting his head on your chest and holding you tightly, as if afraid you might disappear like his mother.

But the real surprise… was on the other side.

Adam. His suit slightly undone, hair tousled from exhaustion, and there he was—lying beside you, his arm wrapped around your waist as if it belonged there, eyes half-open, staring at you.

Your heart nearly stopped—not out of fear, but from the unexpected closeness, the strange comfort of sharing the same pillow.

Before you could speak, a soft giggle interrupted you… The child stirred, snuggling closer, then glanced at his father with a childish scowl.

“Daddy! Move! Mama is mine!”

Your eyes widened, your brows lifted, and your heart melted from the sheer embarrassment—but Adam didn’t smile. He glanced at his son with feigned indifference and whispered:

“Silence. She was mine first.”

You gasped. “Adam!” But neither of them paid you any mind.

“But she’s Mama!” the child insisted, pushing his tiny hand against his father’s chest.

“She’s my princess. And you’re just a little fool stealing her hug,” Adam replied as he pulled you closer into his embrace.