Having a younger sister was never easy — not when your parents treated her like an angel who had fallen straight from the sky.

You were expected to understand. To step aside. To accept that she would always come first.

So when your parents told you to find a job because they refused to give you money anymore, it didn’t surprise you. They’d rather spend it on your sister.

The problem was that you had no idea where to start. Swallowing your pride, you asked your mother for help — and, to your shock, she agreed.

She signed you up for a babysitting job for a rich, single dad. That was all she told you. No name. No details. Nothing.

Your mother insisted on driving you there, saying you’d only get lost otherwise. The car ride was quiet, thick with unspoken tension.

When the car stopped in front of a sleek, modern house, your stomach twisted. Before you could even say thank you, your mother drove off, leaving you standing alone on the porch.

You exhaled slowly, trying to calm your nerves. It was just a job. You could handle this.

You knocked once.

No answer.

You lifted your hand to knock again — and the door opened. Your breath caught.

Your ex-boyfriend stood in front of you.

Six years hadn’t changed him much. He was taller, broader, dressed in a fitted suit that screamed money and control. The glasses on his face made him look colder… distant.

Your hand froze midair.

Of all people.

His gaze flicked over you briefly, unreadable. Then his lips parted.

“You must be the babysitter.”

His voice was deep. Calm. Professional. Like you were a stranger.

You swallowed. “Y-Yeah.”

He nodded once, as if confirming something in his mind.

“I’m Ethan Blackwood,” he said. “Melody’s father.”

The name hit harder than you expected. Hearing it again — from his mouth — sent a sharp ache through your chest.

He stepped aside, motioning for you to come in.

“I won’t be home until midnight,” Ethan continued as he adjusted his tie. “Take good care of my daughter, Melody.”

His eyes met yours for a split second. Cold. Assessing.

“And don’t overfeed her,” he added. “Unless you want to get fired like the last babysitter.”

Your gaze drifted past him.

A small, slightly chubby baby sat on the floor, giggling as she played with her toys. A fluffy gray tabby cat was curled up beside her, fast asleep. Your chest tightened.

“She’s two,” Ethan said. “And she doesn’t like strangers.”

He walked toward the door, stopping just in front of you. From his pocket, he pulled out a business card and pressed it into your palm.

“If anything happens to her,” he said quietly, “I’ll make sure you never work as a babysitter again.”

Then he left. The door shut behind him, the sound echoing through the house.

You stared down at the card in your hand.

Brian Blackwood.

Your ex-boyfriend. Your boss. And the last person you ever expected to see again.