Chapter 2

I got up at five as usual.

Before the car accident, I remembered I was working as a nanny for a wealthy family, cooking and taking care of this father and son every day.

Since I'd been discharged from the hospital, I still needed to do my job properly.

I tiptoed downstairs. The kitchen lights were still off.

I opened the fridge and saw it packed with ingredients.

I took out eggs, tomatoes, and bacon, planning to make simple sandwiches.

While I was frying eggs, I heard footsteps behind me.

I turned around. Mr. Vincent was standing in the kitchen doorway, his eyes red, like he hadn't slept all night.

"Mr. Vincent, you're up so early?" I asked politely.

He stared at me and let out a cold laugh.

"Nice act," he said.

I was confused. "What?"

He walked over. "You think getting into a car accident and pretending to have amnesia is a way to start over?"

I had no idea what he was talking about. "Mr. Vincent, I really do have amnesia..."

"Cut the crap." He interrupted me, his tone especially cold. "You were demanding a divorce before, and now today you're saying you're the nanny?"

His attitude scared me, and I took a step back.

He continued, "You want sympathy, right? You want me to feel guilty, want Ethan to feel sorry for you?"

"I didn't..."

"Whether you did or not, I know." He looked at me coldly. "Sophia, you've used a lot of tactics, but this one is too crude."

I opened my mouth, not knowing what to say.

The sandwiches were done. I cut them into three portions and arranged them on the dining table.

Mr. Vincent sat in the main seat, not even glancing at the breakfast I'd made.

"Your breakfasts used to be elaborate," he said. "And now it's just this?"

I nervously wrung my hands. "I... I only know how to make these..."

"Keep acting." He took a bite of the sandwich and put it down. "Even the taste has changed."

I didn't know how to explain.

Just then, crying came from upstairs. Ethan had woken up.

I rushed upstairs and pushed open the children's room door.

Ethan was sitting on the bed. When he saw me, tears immediately fell.

"Mommy..." he cried.

I crouched down. "Ethan, what's wrong?"

He froze for a moment, then cried even harder. "You don't recognize me anymore?"

I didn't know what to say, so I could only gently pat his back.

Mr. Vincent came upstairs too, standing in the doorway with a cold expression.

"Stop acting," he said. "Ethan, ignore her. She's putting on a show."

Ethan looked up at his father, then at me, and cried even louder.

I stood up and said awkwardly, "Then... I'll go downstairs first."

"Stop." Mr. Vincent called out to me. "Where are you sleeping?"

"The nanny's room."

He sneered. "Really getting into character."

I kept my head down, not daring to look at him.

"Whatever." He said. "But don't think this will make me soften."

During breakfast, the atmosphere was especially oppressive.

Ethan kept staring at me, tears dripping down.

Mr. Vincent didn't even glance at me.

After I saw they'd finished eating, I carefully spoke up.

"Mr. Vincent, I'd like to ask, what's my salary?"

He looked up at me, his eyes like he was looking at a stranger.

"Salary?" He repeated the word and laughed. "Sophia, you really are expanding my understanding."

I was completely confused by what he said.

"Forget it, act however you want to act." He stood up. "But don't expect me to play along."

Then he left.

Ethan also ran upstairs, leaving me sitting alone in the dining room.

I looked at the table full of breakfast, suddenly feeling especially lost.

Is this father and son pair sick or something?