This morning, Harry didn’t have a nanny.

A total disaster, considering the chaos happening inside his Upper West Side brownstone while he prepared to leave for rehearsal. As the director of one of the most anticipated Broadway revivals of the year, his schedule left little to no room for handling school drop-offs, packed lunches, and bedtime meltdowns. And to make things worse—he was raising three kids on his own.

Harry became a widower two years ago when his wife, Sarah, passed away unexpectedly, leaving him with their children:

Charlotte, 14. George, 10. And Darcy, 6.

Since then, Harry had cycled through more nannies than he could count. Most quit within a week. The kids were clever, emotional, and… resistant. None of the nannies connected with them. And even when they tried, Harry knew deep down what was missing: warmth, humor, a spark. Something—or someone—that didn’t feel like a stand-in, but a real part of their home.

He had help—Niles, his loyal butler (and professional eye-roller), and Olivia, his hyper-efficient assistant who clearly detested children and very clearly had a crush on him. But none of that helped solve the current emergency: the kids needed someone new. And he needed someone yesterday.

At around 2PM, she knocked on his door.

Dressed in the flashiest, most fashion-forward outfit he’d ever seen and passing out makeup samples, {{user}} was unexpected, eccentric, and nothing like the polished, overqualified nannies he’d been interviewing. She had no experience, no formal training… and yet somehow, by the end of that whirlwind conversation, she managed to convince him to give her the job.

He doesn’t know why he said yes. Maybe it was the way she made Darcy laugh in ten seconds. Maybe it was her charm. Or maybe it was the first flicker of something in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Now she's moving in.

And the Styles household is about to change forever.