His Nanny Mate By Eve Above Story

Chapter 202: Under Supervision

Moana

The bodyguard dropped me off in front of the school, and I got out of the car.

Already, as I walked up the pathway to the entrance of the school, I could see that some of the older students and even other teachers were giving me strange looks. I didn’t think too much of it, however, as I had just gotten out of an unmarked vehicle with tinted windows and an intimidating-looking man in the driver’s seat. I would have stared at me, too.

But as I headed inside, the staring continued. Even people who hadn’t seen me get out of the car were giving me odd looks. I felt as though people were whispering about me; but, once again, I decided not to let it get to me and headed to my classroom.

Once I got to my classroom, I decided to head to the faculty lounge to make myself a cup of coffee and warm up a scone, just as I always did when I first got to school. When I entered the faculty lounge, a couple of other teachers were sitting at the table and chatting. As soon as I walked in, though, their conversation stopped abruptly.

“Good morning,” I said with a warm smile as I walked over to the coffee machine, trying not to show how uncomfortable I felt. “How was everyone’s weekend?”

high school math teacher that I had only ever exchanged pleasantries with before, sort of scoffed. Something about it made the hairs on the back of my neck raise, and

asked, feeling anger beginning to bubble up inside of me as I was instantly reminded of what it felt like when those wealthy

said, waving her hand dismissively and throwing me a stiff

the male teacher who was sitting with her spoke up when he realized that I knew that

he said, sounding more polite than the other teacher. “It’s just… Well, we heard about what happened at the warehouse. It’s all over the news,

I asked, folding my arms across

red. “There are some rumors circulating that

late bloomer?” I finished for him. Behind me, the coffee machine began to spurt my coffee out into my cup. Other than that, the air in the room was thick and silent. The teacher slowly nodded as his face

thing, necessarily,” he continued. “It’s just that… Well, late bloomers are very rare. Some people see it as a sign of bad luck. And with your baby on the way,

were talking about me. But now, to hear that they were talking about my baby? “What about my baby?” I snarled, my voice spiking in a similar staccato to the coffee machine as it beeped behind

say, making him look like a fish gasping on land. Suddenly, the female teacher spoke up. “More often than not, the children of late bloomers come out with all sorts of… developmental problems,” she said. The female teacher was far nastier with her

bubbling up even more. I whirled around and picked my coffee up, not caring that I sloshed it on the counter in my haste, then

about me, but don’t you dare gossip about my baby,” I growled. There was a lot more I wanted to say, but I chose not to. And with that,

…

in my kindergarten class cut a perfectly straight line with her safety scissors. The little girl beamed up at me with rosy red cheeks and shot me a toothless grin. I moved on to the next student, and repeated the same drill. “Here you go…” I said, crouching down to the little boy’s level. “Like this…” I showed him how to use the scissors,

of the children

moment, Jeremy,” I