♥ PROLOGUE ♥
Good morning, readers!
If you come across the word “Tesoro” in the story, it means “treasure.” The word “Tesoro” is Italian.
18:00: Carter Residence, New York, USA.
Friday.
Hilary Carter.
I can’t believe it. I’ve been married for fifteen years, and I’ve just discovered that my husband has a mistress. I’ve always tried to be a good wife and companion to him, but it’s meant nothing – I was never special to him. How many nights have I cared for him? I’ve always been by his side, and in his worst moments, it was me who cared for him, not his mistress.
“How can you do this to me, Arthur?” I scream for the second time. “Have these fifteen years meant nothing to you!!!? Haven’t I been enough?”
At this very moment, he’s packing his clothes to leave.
“I’ve had enough of you, Hilary!!! You’re always complaining; every time I come home, you look such awful. I can’t be attracted to someone like that anymore!!!” he shouted back. “The point is, you’ve gained a lot of weight; I can’t look at you the way I used to.”
I can’t believe what he just said. My tears kept falling, the pain in my chest became too suffocating, and I couldn’t breathe properly.
“And also,” he turned to face me, “I’ve always wanted a child.” He touched upon my deepest wound.
No! That’s not how he used to say it!
“Are you blaming me? I’ve always wanted children too! But it’s not my fault that I’m sterile! I always said we could adopt a child, but you never wanted to!”
He closed his suitcase.
“I don’t want someone else’s children! If my wife can’t have children, why should I stay with her? I don’t love you anymore, Hilary. I’ve found another woman who is much more beautiful than you, and what’s more, she’s young and has a beautiful body that you’ll never have.”
Without thinking twice, I slapped him across the face.
“I’ll never let you humiliate me like that, Arthur!” He put his hand over the spot where I slapped him.
“I feel sorry for you, Hilary. I confess that I used to love you when you weren’t like this,” he looked at me with disgust. “I wonder what man would accept a woman of thirty-five,” he laughed. “Besides being that age, you’re overweight.”
The anger and humiliation I’m feeling are too immense, but I refuse to be humiliated like this.
“And do you think that when you’re forty or fifty, this new woman of yours will still want you? She’s only after your money, but when you don’t have anymore, she’ll run into the arms of another man!” He slapped me across the face, leaving me in shock.
“Shut the fuck up!” He pointed his finger in my face. “Don’t you ever dare talk about Carina like that! She loves me and cares for me like you never did!”
I was still in shock from that slap. I looked at him, tears streaming down my cheeks.
“I never took care of you? You liar! When you were ill, I always cared for you! When you were fired from your last job, who was by your side? Now you’re telling me I didn’t care for you? You bastard!” I shouted angrily.
“I don’t care about anything else! Wait for my lawyer; he’ll bring the divorce papers tomorrow. I want you out of this house. I never want to see you again, Hilary.” He stormed past me, causing me to fall to the ground.
I started crying uncontrollably. The pain I’m feeling is so suffocating – this humiliation that I’ll never forget. How could he be so cruel? He ended everything we had built for a younger girl, as if age would never catch up with him. He’s already thirty-eight, thinking he’ll stay that age forever.
I should have listened to my parents and friends when they told me he wasn’t a good man to marry. I endured so much and faced so many humiliations to stay by his side. But he abandoned me for a younger woman.
And he still had the nerve to bring up a subject that is very sensitive to me: I’ve always wanted children, but unfortunately, I can’t have them. And he always threw it in my face, but I endured it because I loved him.
What am I going to do with my life now?
♥ Chapter 1 ♥
Hilary Moretti.
Five years have passed.
Monday.
So much has changed in my life over these five years since that heartless man forced me out of our shared home. I found refuge in returning to my hometown in Italy, where both my parents and my childhood friends welcomed me with open arms. Knowing I wasn’t alone brought immense relief, yet I confess, the shadow of depression loomed over me for a long while. The hurt he caused ran deep, but slowly, I began to find my footing again.
I reclaimed my maiden name and decided it was time for a lifestyle overhaul. During my marriage, I weighed in at one hundred and twenty kilos. The ensuing depression saw me shedding some weight, though I remain overweight at one hundred and six kilos. It was during this period of introspection and change that I discovered a newfound joy in caring for children. Finding myself without employment, I often babysat my friends’ kids while they were at work, which sparked the realization that I could pursue a career as a nanny.
With encouragement from my friends, I approached a nanny agency. These past five years, I’ve worked in various households, typically spending a year at each. Unfortunately, my stints often ended prematurely because the children began referring to me as “mommy,” a development that their biological mothers understandably did not appreciate.
My past self struggled with the reflection in the mirror. Now, I look at my dark skin, curly black hair, and light brown eyes, and I see the beauty in my body’s curves. Like anyone, I have my moments of doubt, but I’ve come to love myself. These five years have been devoid of romantic relationships, a direct result of the trauma I experienced from being left for someone younger and slimmer. Now in my forties, life still has much to offer, yet a pervasive fear holds me back.
My career as a nanny has been my focus. Unable to be a mother myself, this profession fills a void in my heart. Hearing children call me “Mommy” has been both a joy and a sorrow, a reminder of what I’ve longed for but cannot have.
Today marks a significant step: an interview with the Russo family, among Italy’s most prestigious. I’m to meet with Mr. Dominic Russo, the eldest son and a figure of considerable renown in the business world. Many women dream of capturing his heart, yet he remains elusive. Rumors swirl around him and his equally mysterious brother, whose name and face I don’t know. My friend, who keeps up with such matters, tells me Dominic is thirty-one, and his brother is thirty, though little else seems to be known about him.
Nervousness grips me; it’s been a month since my last position ended. A friend, spotting an urgent ad for a nanny placed by Mr. Dominic, encouraged me to apply. Sending in my CV, I was thrilled to receive an invitation for an interview.
Despite the changes and challenges, I’m content with where I am, working in a field I love. Yet, beneath it all, there’s a yearning for someone to share my life with, someone who desires me, wants me, and loves me for who I am.
But part of me fears that may never happen.
07:30: The Moretti residence, Italy.
“Lary, are you ready?” Pietra, my friend, called out as she entered my room.
“Just double-checking my bag,” I responded, earning an eye roll from her.
“You’ve checked it a thousand times. Try to relax,” she said.
“I can’t help it, Pietra. This isn’t just any interview; it’s with Dominic Russo, the most sought-after businessman in the world. I’m sure there’s a lot of competition for this position. I’m really nervous,” I confessed.
Pietra, a striking figure at thirty-six, stands tall with her white skin, red hair, and light blue eyes that could have belonged to a model. She’s undeniably beautiful.
“I understand, but you can’t let this opportunity slip through your fingers. Now, come on. Your interview is at half-past eight. Arriving early will show them you’re a punctual person,” she encouraged. I sighed in agreement.
“You’re right. Let’s go.” I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder, and took one last look in the mirror. Dressed in a black jumpsuit that snugly fit my frame, I opted for comfort and modesty, pairing it with sneakers and a light touch of makeup, just a hint of red lipstick. I prefer a natural look, especially since my work involves children.
Descending the stairs, we were greeted by my parents. Despite being in their sixties, they don’t look their age, appearing more like they’re in their fifties. They’ve always taken exceptional care of their health and appearance.
My mother is short with dark skin, dark brown hair, and light brown eyes. Her physique is well-maintained, betraying none of the typical signs of aging.
My father, on the other hand, is tall with dark skin, light brown hair, and very dark brown eyes. He has kept himself in good shape, a habit he’s maintained from his younger days by regularly visiting the gym.
“Are you leaving, daddy’s princess?” My father used the nickname he’s given me since childhood, drawing a fond smile from me.
“You look beautiful, my love,” my mother said, standing up to embrace me. “I’m confident you’ll secure this job, my princess.”
“Thank you, Mom. Yes, Dad, I’m off to my interview now. Wish me luck,” I responded as he approached and hugged me.
“We have every faith in your potential, my love,” they both said, kissing my forehead. “Now go.”
After bidding them goodbye, I made my way to Pietra’s car.
“I’m really nervous,” I confessed as soon as she started driving.
“Just breathe, my friend. Everything will work out fine,” she reassured me, prompting me to take a deep breath.
“Do you think I’ll have to live there? In all my previous jobs, the employers preferred that I live in to make things easier,” I pondered aloud.
“It’s likely, considering it would be more convenient,” she agreed.
The thought of living on the premises added to my anxiety. Despite having gone through numerous interviews, the prospect of working for someone as renowned as Dominic Russo was daunting. I could hardly keep my nerves in check, fearing I might faint from the pressure.
I decided to mentally rehearse my own interview, focusing on staying calm and collected.
God help me.
