“The nanny is on leave. He had a fever last night, and—”
“You thought that gave you the right to do this?” Marcus interrupted, his tone turning cold.
“To bathe my son in a kitchen sink?”
She didn’t argue.
But she didn’t step back either.
“He was burning up,” she said quietly. “I couldn’t find anyone, and I didn’t want to wait.”
The word fever landed, but instead of guilt, Marcus reacted with control.
“I have medical staff for that,” he said. “Your job is to clean. Not make decisions about my son.”
There was a pause.
Then, without hesitation:
“You’re fired.”
Emily didn’t fight it.
She nodded, her eyes filled with something heavier than anger.
“I understand,” she said softly.
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