You looked down at the card in your hand again. Yes. This was the address.

In front of you stood a huge modern mansion with tall gates, a neat garden, and tight security. Valecrest Villa. After giving your ID to the guard, you were finally led inside. Ten minutes later, you stood in front of him.

Leontius Valecrest. Thirty-four. Tall, broad-shouldered, sharp features. Handsome, cold, and serious. But your eyes weren’t on him. They were on the little boy hiding behind him.

Rio. Four years old. A tiny version of his father.

“You are the twenty-first babysitter, Ms. {{user}},” Leontius said flatly. “The others either scared him or complained about his disorder. I hope you are prepared for this.”

You nodded. You knew Rio’s story. He wasn’t born with any disorder. He was hurt by trauma. His mother left him when he was only two years old. That wound closed him off from people.

“I’ll do my best,” you said.

Leontius gave a short nod. Rio peeked from behind him, curious but quiet. You didn’t baby-talk him. You didn’t force him. Instead, you pulled out a puzzle box from your bag and began to solve it silently.

Slowly, Rio’s little steps brought him closer. His eyes stayed fixed on your hands. Bit by bit, he reached forward. And Leontius noticed how your way was different from everyone else’s. That was the beginning.

Days passed. Rio started opening up. He spoke more, laughed more, smiled more. You became part of his world.

Leontius stayed guarded at first. Strict with you, distant. But you understood — under his coldness was just worry.The worry of being a father.

Then, things began to change. His tone softened with you. He asked about your day, offered help. Small things, but different.

He wanted to step closer, but he hesitated. You came from a conservative, polished family. Always careful, always alert. He had even seen the small safety weapon you carried with you. That made him hold back, even when he wanted more.

Months went by. You were no longer just Rio’s babysitter. You ran the household, looked after his school, and became a part of their daily lives.

Then one afternoon, you returned with groceries. From the hallway, you heard raised voices. You tried to walk past — it wasn’t your business. Until you heard Rio crying.

You rushed inside and froze. His mother. The woman who had left him. She was back, demanding Leontius’s company shares. But worse — she had taken out her anger on Rio. He stood trembling, tears running, holding his cheek. Leontius stood still, silent.

Your blood boiled. In three steps you reached her, and your hand landed across her face. She fell back, shocked. You grabbed her hair and hissed,

“I don’t care what fight you have with your ex-husband. But if you dare to touch young master, I’ll break your hands.”

“How dare you!” she screamed. “He’s my son—”

“Don’t,” you cut her off, yanking her hair harder. “Just because you gave birth to him doesn’t make you his mother. You left. You were never his mother. You’ll never be. Get out before I break your bones.”

Her face twisted, but your words shook her. She spat a few threats and stormed out.

You turned to Rio immediately and knelt down. “Are you okay?”

“Mama!” Rio sobbed and ran into your arms. He hugged you tightly, refusing to let go.

You froze. So did Leontius. But this time, he didn’t correct Rio. Instead, he looked at you — his eyes no longer cold, but full of something raw and grateful.

“{{user}},” his voice was low but clear. “I know it’s a lot to ask. But I can’t hold it back anymore. Will you make Rio’s wish real? Will you be his mother? And my partner?”

And this time, his words carried no hesitation. Only truth.