Sorry, Major Hubby, Your Nanny Wife Has Secrets Too novel Chapter 11

Chapter 11

I stood at the airport departure gate, clutching my boarding pass with trembling fingers. The announcement echoed through the terminal: “Tinal call for passengers boarding Flight 847 to Los Angeles.”

“Last chance to change your mind.” Ethan said beside me, though we both knew I wouldn’t.

“There’s nothing left for me here,” I replied, adjusting the strap of my carry–on bag. “Alexander made his choice. I’ve

made mine.

As I walked toward the gate, a commotion near the business lounge caught my attention. A well–dressed man was arguing with airport security, his voice carrying across the terminal.

“I don’t care about protocol. My meeting was canceled, and I need to get to LA tonight.”

The man turned, and our eyes met for a split second. He was handsome in a refined way–nothing like Alexander’s military bearing, but there was something compelling about his presence.

“Sir. I’m sorry, but the flight is completely booked,” the gate agent was saying.

Without thinking, I approached them. “Excuse me, I have a first–class seat on that flight. You’re welcome to take it if you need it more than I do.”

He looked surprised. “That’s very generous, but I couldn’t-”

“Please,” I interrupted. “Consider it a favor from one stranger to another.”

Twenty minutes later, we were both seated in first class–he’d insisted on upgrading my ticket when a last–minute cancellation opened up another seat.

“Enzo West,” he said, extending his hand once we were airborne.

“Lydia Evans,” I replied, shaking it.

“Business or pleasure in LA?” he asked.

I stared out the window at the city lights growing smaller below us. “Starting over.”

“Ah,” he nodded knowingly. “I do that about once a year. Fresh cities, new projects. Keeps life interesting.”

“What kind of projects?”

“Technology, finance, real estate–whatever catches my interest. I believe in diversification.” He smiled. “What about you? What are you starting over from?”

I hesitated. “A marriage that should never have happened.”

Chapter 11

“I’m sorry.

“Don’t be. Some mistakes teach you valuable lessons.”

For the next five hours, we talked about everything except our pasts. He told me about his vision for expanding West Corp’s entertainment division. I found myself sharing dreams I’d buried years ago–about traveling, about building. something of my own..

“You should come work for me.” he said as we began our descent into LAX.

I laughed. “You don’t even know what I’m qualified to do.”

“I know you’re intelligent, decisive, and kind enough to give up your seat for a stranger. That’s more than most of my employees can claim.”

“Enzo-

“Think about it,” he said, pulling out a business card. “I’m serious.”

Three weeks later, I was sitting in West Corp’s Los Angeles headquarters, reviewing quarterly reports as Enzo’s special consultant. The work was engaging, and more importantly, it kept my mind off everything I’d left behind.

“You’re working late again.” Enzo said, appearing in my office doorway at nearly nine PM.

“So are you.”

“I have an excuse–this is my company. What’s yours?”

I set

down then. “I like being busy.”

“Have dinner with me.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked, but something in his tone was different tonight. More personal.

“Enzo-”

“Just dinner, Lydia. Two colleagues sharing a meal.

But it wasn’t just dinner. Over wine and conversation that flowed easier than it should have, I found myself laughing for the first time in months.

“Tell me something true,” he said suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

“Something real about yourself. Not work Lydia or polite conversation Lydia. The real you.”

I took a sip of wine, considering. “I used to

1. g. “I used to think love was worth any sacrifice. Now I know that’s not true.”

Chapter 11

“What changed your mind?”

“Someone who taught me that love without respect is just pretty chains.”

Enzo reached across the table and covered my hand with his. “Their loss.”

Six months later, he proposed during a weekend in Napa Valley. Nothing elaborate–just the two of us watching the sunset from our hotel balcony.

“I know you’ve been hurt before.” he said, getting down on one knee. “I know you have reasons not to trust. But I want to spend every day proving that not all men are like whoever broke your heart.”

The ring was simple, elegant–nothing like the ostentatious jewelry Alexander used to buy to make up for his emotional absence.

“Enzo…”

“Marry me. Lydia. Let me show you what love should look like.”

I said yes because I believed him. Because after months of his quiet consistency, his genuine interest in my thoughts. and dreams, I thought I’d found someone different.

We married in a small ceremony in Malibu, just a handful of friends and colleagues. No family drama, no military protocols, no tests or games. Just two people promising to build something real together.

When I found out I was pregnant six months later, Enzo cried.

“I thought you said you couldn’t have more children,” he whispered, holding

ing me close.

“The doctors said it was unlikely after… after what happened before.”

“This is a miracle,” he said, kissing my forehead. “Our miracle.”

Iris was born on a sunny Tuesday morning in spring. The moment they placed her in my arms, I felt complete in a way I’d never experienced–not even with Leo.

This time, no one could take this feeling away from me.