The CEO's Daughter's Nanny - Where is my Child?

Viviane Bernardi Müller was a teacher who loved her job. Despite spending her days surrounded by children, she always put off having her own. Her husband insisted that they needed financial stability first.

By the time she was 27, they had bought a house and finally furnished its spacious rooms.

Her husband, Pietro, was a renowned lawyer. He rarely arrived home in time for dinner. Most nights, Viviane ate alone and went straight to bed.

On the rare nights when he arrived home early, however, she was always delighted to serve him. She was just happy to have him home. However, those nights almost always ended in arguments.

“Why can't we have children, Pietro?” she asked.

He frowned and replied rudely, “We're not ready to have children yet.”

'We have savings, and we both work,' Viviane replied persistently.

"You know I want to change my car," he snapped, letting his silverware clatter against the plate. "Besides, I dipped into our savings for new suits. My boss can't stand it when his employees look shabby."

"You touched our money without asking me?"

"It's my money!" His fist slammed against the table. "I'm done. This food is disgusting!" Pietro hurled the plate to the floor.

Resigned, Viviane reached for the dustpan and broom, sweeping the mess from the kitchen tiles. She gripped the white island counter as a wave of dizziness washed over her.

The self-centered man she had married never cared to ask about her day, never gave her gifts, and never took her out to dinner.

He hadn't always been this way. In their early years, Pietro had done everything he could to please her. Sitting alone at the table, she realized she had been happier back when they lived in a small apartment, with nothing more than a fridge, a bed, and a stove.

The warmth of their relationship had cooled as Pietro climbed the corporate ladder. From a mere intern, he had risen to take part in board meetings with one of the most powerful hotel CEOs. Pietro loved to boast, always telling everyone he was the right hand of the Welsch Corporation's chief executive.

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Just before reaching the bedroom, Vivian climbed the stairs slowly, afraid another dizzy spell might send her tumbling down. She thought that sharing her news would make her husband happy, but her excitement crumbled as she peeked through the half-open door.

"Of course I will, sweetheart," he said into the phone. "I bought that piece of jewelry you wanted."

He paused, sitting on the bed, unaware his wife was listening just outside.

"Have you packed your bags yet?" His voice dropped to a murmur. "We'll spend a week in Los Angeles," he said, a spark of excitement in his tone. "Now send me those pictures of your breasts. I want you so much!"

Pain filled Vivian's emerald eyes. That was the real reason her marriage had grown so cold. She placed a hand over her belly, and just then the door swung