Two Little Secrets From My Boss

Chapter 107

Daphne’s POV

The applications spread across my desk like a paper sea, each one promising salvation I'm not sure exists.

I've been at this for three hours. My coffee went cold somewhere around hour two, and the words have started swimming together—qualifications blurring into experience blurring into references that all sound vaguely the same.

In the next room, I can hear Nina and Lisa playing some elaborate game that involves a lot of giggling and the occasional crash.

William, part of the temporary security detail Xander hired, stands in the doorway like a well-dressed statue.

"Everything okay in there?" I call out, not looking up from the résumé in my hand.

"All clear, Mrs. Hale." His voice is professionally neutral. "Nina is building what she calls a 'princess castle.' Lisa is counting the blocks."

"Let me guess—Nina's knocked it down at least twice."

"Three times. Lisa looks personally offended each time."

Despite everything, I smile. "That sounds about right."

I turn back to the applications, but the smile fades quickly. I need someone capable, trustworthy, good with children in a way that goes beyond checking boxes on a résumé.

Someone who can help manage this household while Xander and I focus on finding whoever left that note, whoever is watching our family from shadows we can't see.

The stack feels heavier today because of who's missing.

Sarah. God, I miss Sarah.

She'd given her notice last week, and I still feel the ache of it sitting in my chest like a bruise that won't heal. Not betrayal—I could never call it that. Not abandonment either.

Just loss. The particular kind of loss that comes from watching someone you care about walk toward something better.

She'd been twenty-three when she started with us, fresh-faced and eager, wonderful with the twins in that effortless way some people just have.

Nina adored her, Lisa, who trusts cautiously and loves even more cautiously, had actually started seeking out Sarah's hand during walks.

That meant something, everything even. But last month, she'd sat across from me at this very desk with tears streaming down her cheeks and her fingers twisted together in her lap.

"I got accepted," she'd said, her voice cracking on every other word. "The photography program in Barcelona. The one I told you about, remember? They want me to start in two weeks, and I know the timing is terrible, I know you need me, but this is…"

She'd stopped, swallowed hard, tried again. "I've dreamed about this since college, saved every penny. They're only taking twelve people this year, and somehow I'm one of them, and I don't know if I'll ever get another chance like this."

I'd watched her struggle, watched her guilt war with her hope, and I'd recognized something in her expression that made my chest ache.

"Sarah." I'd reached across the desk, taken her trembling hands in mine. "Listen..."

"I love Nina and Lisa," she'd rushed out before I could continue, like she needed me to understand.

"I love this family. You've been so good to me, and I feel like I'm abandoning you, and I know there's so much going on right now—"

"You're not abandoning anyone." I'd squeezed her hands until she met my eyes.

"You're living, choosing yourself, which is exactly what you should be doing at twenty-three. I need to do this for myself, Sarah. Before I can't anymore. Say it back to me."

She'd stared at me for a long moment. Then, in a whisper: "I need to do this for myself. Before I can't anymore."

"Go to Barcelona." I'd stood up, come around the desk, pulled her into a hug she melted into.

"Take pictures of everything, send me postcards. And don't you dare feel guilty for one single second."

I meant it, I meant every word. I remembered being that age—hungry for something bigger, terrified of settling before I'd figured out who I was. Sarah deserved her adventure.

She deserved to chase her dreams before the world convinced her dreams were impractical, before responsibilities piled up and possibilities narrowed.

She deserved Barcelona and photography and the kind of freedom that only exists when you're young enough to believe it's infinite.

But God, the timing couldn't be worse.

I pick up another application. The woman's credentials are impeccable—fifteen years of childcare experience, glowing references, a degree in early childhood development. On paper, she's perfect.

But there's something too polished about her cover letter, too eager. Something I can't name but feel in my gut, a wrongness that makes me set the paper down and reach for the next one.

Too formal, too stiff, too… something. None of them are right.

"Mommy?"

I look up to find Nina standing in the doorway, her dark hair escaping its ponytail in approximately fifteen directions.

She pads across the room on bare feet—when did she take off her socks?—and climbs into my lap like it's her throne.

"Hi, baby." I wrap my arms around her, breathe in the smell of her strawberry shampoo. "What's wrong? Are you bored with your castle?"

"Lisa says I'm building it wrong." Nina's face scrunches with indignation. "But it's MY castle, so I can build it however I want. That's the rule."

"That does sound like a reasonable rule."

"That's what I said." She settles more firmly into my lap, her small fingers reaching for the papers on my desk.

"Mommy, why do you look so tired? Your eyes are all..." She gestures vaguely at her own face. "Sad-looking."

My heart cracks a little. Just a hairline fracture, but I feel it.

"Mommy's just busy, sweetheart." I kiss her hair, arrange my face into something approaching reassurance. "Nothing to worry about. I have a lot of work to do, that's all."

"Daddy says you work too hard." She picks up a résumé, studies it with the intense concentration of someone who can't actually read most of the words.

"He said you need more sleep and less coffee. He said it to Uncle Archie on the phone."

"Did he now?"

"Mmhmm." She sets the paper down, looks up at me with Xander's eyes in her small face. "Are you going to find us a new Sarah?"

The question hits harder than it should. "I'm trying, baby. I'm looking at lots of people who might want to help take care of you and Lisa."

"But will they be nice like Sarah? Will they let us make blanket forts?"

"I'll make sure whoever we choose is very nice," I promise. "And blanket forts will be mandatory. I'll put it in the job description."

Nina accepts this with the perfect trust only a four-year-old can offer—the kind of trust that believes parents can fix anything, that monsters aren't real, that the world is fundamentally safe.

I hold her a little tighter and try not to think about notes with neat handwriting and six words that keep me up at night.

By evening, exhaustion has seeped into my bones so thoroughly I can barely keep my eyes open.

The applications have defeated me. I fall asleep at my desk sometime after nine, my head pillowed on a stack of résumés, my hand still curled around a pen.

I wake to the sensation of being lifted. Xander's arms are steady beneath me, his chest warm against my cheek. The hallway moves past in a blur of shadow and soft light.

"Put me down," I murmur, a protest I don't mean even a little. "I can walk."

"Hush." His voice rumbles through his chest. "Let me have this."

In our bedroom, he lays me on the bed like I'm something precious. His hands are gentle as he removes my shoes, unclasps my earrings, slides the watch from my wrist.

He's undressing my day, I realize. Peeling away the hours of stress and failure and fear.

When he reaches for the buttons of my blouse, I catch his wrist. Our eyes meet in the dim light. His fingers still against my skin.

He leans down and kisses me—slow, lingering, full of everything he can't find words for.

I pull him closer, deepen the kiss until we're both breathless, until the exhaustion fades into something warmer.

His forehead rests against mine. His breath mingles with my breath.

"We'll find someone," he whispers. "We'll fix this. I promise you."

I want to believe him. I want to believe that somewhere in that stack of applications is a person who will keep our daughters safe, who will fill the Sarah-shaped hole in our household, who will be exactly what we need.

I kiss him again instead of answering.