"But it has vitamins!" He points at the label with the confidence of someone who can't actually read yet. "See? It says so right there."
Riley rolls her eyes in a way that's far too mature for her age. "It says 'vitamin fortified,' which means they add vitamins because there's nothing good in it to start with. Dad explained it."
I hide my smile behind my hand, reaching for the boring but nutritious cereal that I know they'll actually eat without complaint. We've been in the store for maybe twenty minutes, working our way through the list Silas texted me earlier, and so far it's been peaceful. Isaac is being mostly well-behaved, Riley hasn't asked for anything too outrageous, and nobody's had a meltdown yet.
I should have known it was too good to last.
"Well, well. If it isn't the new nanny."
The voice comes from behind me, smooth and cold at the same time. I turn to find a woman standing there, and even if I hadn't seen pictures, I would know immediately who she is. Raven. The previous Omega who left the pack in flames on her way out.
She's beautiful in an obvious way, all sharp edges and careful makeup, her dark hair falling in perfect waves past her shoulders. She's wearing clothes that are just expensive enough to make a statement, and she's looking at me like I'm something unpleasant she found on the bottom of her shoe.
"Hello," I say carefully, keeping my voice polite even as my stomach twists with anxiety. "I'm Amelia."
"Oh, I know who you are." She moves closer, her eyes scanning me from head to toe in a way that makes me feel small and inadequate. "Word travels in this town. The Kanes' new babysitter. How quaint."
The way she says babysitter makes it sound like an insult. I force a smile, keeping one hand on the cart where Isaac is watching with wide eyes. "I prefer nanny, actually. And you must be Raven."
"Must I?" She laughs, the sound coming out brittle. "I'm surprised they told you about me. I left only a few months ago, you know. After they practically begged me to stay."
The information doesn't match what I know. Wyatt said she left seven months after Evie died, that it ended badly, and that she didn't want the kids. But I'm not about to get into an argument about timelines in the middle of the grocery store.
"I'm sure that was difficult for everyone," I say instead, trying to navigate this conversation without making things worse.
"Difficult." She repeats the word like it's foreign. "Yes, I suppose it was. They're very... intense, aren't they? All that grief and trauma and baggage. It's exhausting, really. I tried, I really did, but there's only so much one person can take."
Her words feel like little barbs, designed to wound. I keep my expression neutral, my grip on the cart tightening. "I should probably get going. We still have a lot to get through."
"Oh, I'm sure you do." She leans against a display of canned goods, blocking my path subtly. "Let me give you some advice, nanny to nanny. Don't get too comfortable. They're wonderful at first, all gratitude and appreciation. But it never lasts. You won't last. Nobody does with them."
My heart is starting to pound, anxiety crawling up my spine. I want to leave, want to get the kids away from this woman and her poison words. But she's not done yet.
"And the kids." She glances at Riley and Isaac with something that looks almost like disdain. "Well, they're a handful, aren't they? Especially the little one. So needy. Always crying, always demanding attention. I tried to be patient, but honestly, it was just too much."
Riley's hand tightens on the cart, her face going very still in the way it does when she's upset but trying not to show it. Isaac has stopped swinging his legs, watching Raven with confusion written all over his sweet face.
"The kids are wonderful," I say firmly, finding my voice even though my hands are shaking. "They're smart and kind and anyone would be lucky to spend time with them."
Raven's smile is sharp. "Of course you'd say that now. Give it a few months. You'll see what I mean. And as for the Alphas..." She pauses dramatically, making sure she has my full attention. "They're too broken to really love anyone again. Not after Evie. You'll just be a temporary fix, a warm body to help with the children until they find someone better. Don't fool yourself into thinking it's more than that."
The words land like physical blows, hitting every insecurity I have. Every fear that I'm not good enough, that I'm just filling a space until someone worthy comes along, that I'm fooling myself by thinking this could be real.
"You're wrong." Riley's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts, loud and clear in the quiet grocery aisle. She steps forward, putting herself between me and Raven, her small body radiating fury. "You're nicer than Raven, Miss Amelia. She was mean to Isaac. She used to yell at him when he cried and lock him in his room when he had tantrums. And she didn't even like us. She just wanted our dads."
The words tumble out in a rush, six years of pent-up feelings and observations that Riley has clearly been holding onto. Isaac nods emphatically from his seat in the cart, his little face serious.
"She was mean," he confirms solemnly. "You're nice. You kiss my boo-boos better and you don't yell when I spill things."
Raven's face flushes red, her carefully maintained composure cracking. "That's not... you don't understand what it was like. Those kids were impossible, and their fathers let them run wild. I was trying to provide structure."
"By locking a three-year-old in his room?" My voice comes out colder than I intended, all my protective instincts flaring. "That's not structure. That's cruelty."
"You have no idea what you're talking about." Raven's voice rises, drawing attention from other shoppers. "You've been there, what, a few weeks? You'll learn. You'll see exactly why I left, and then you'll be gone too. They all leave eventually."
"I think we're done here." I maneuver the cart around her, gently steering Riley in front of me, my hand finding Isaac's as I pass. "Have a nice day."
I can feel her glaring at my back as we move away, but I don't turn around. I just focus on getting the kids to the next aisle, on putting distance between us and that woman, on keeping my breathing steady even though my heart is racing and my hands are trembling.
