You’re just the nanny, sweetie. Don’t ever forget which side of the marble floor

The elevator chimed at eight sharp. Daniel Cross walked in — tech billionaire, three magazine covers this year, and my older brother. Vivienne floated toward him in ivory silk, arms open. He walked straight past her. He walked to me. He kissed the top of Poppy’s head, then mine. “Sorry I’m late, Nora. Traffic on the FDR.” The room went so quiet I heard ice cracking in a champagne bucket. Vivienne’s smile froze into something surgical. “You two… know each other?” Daniel didn’t even look at her. He pulled a folder from his coat and set it on the entry table. “Eight years ago my sister took a nanny job with a family that fired her from three previous positions for ‘attitude.’ She wanted to see who was really raising the little girl her fiancé kept posting online. Turns out, it was her.” He finally turned to Vivienne. “I ran the diligence on this marriage the day you accepted my ring. The trust fund you’ve been quoting? Frozen since your father’s fraud indictment. The Hamptons house? Foreclosed in April. You weren’t marrying me for love. You were marrying me for a life raft.” Vivienne’s mother stepped forward, pearls trembling. “Daniel, be reasonable —” “I am being reasonable,” he said. “I’m leaving.” He looked down at Poppy, who was clinging to my neck. “And Nora has spent three years documenting the neglect in this home. Family court has the file. Your own mother signed the affidavit last week in exchange for keeping her apartment.” Vivienne spun toward the older woman, betrayed. Daniel slid the folder toward her. “Emergency custody hearing is Monday. Poppy comes home with us tonight.” I walked past Vivienne without a word. At the door, I paused and finally answered the thing she’d said an hour ago. “You’re right. I never forgot which side of the floor I belonged on.” I adjusted Poppy on my hip. “The side that actually loved her.” The elevator doors closed on the sound of Vivienne’s champagne glass hitting marble.