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?”

sort of scoffed. Something about it made the hairs on the back of my neck raise, and I

inside of me as I was instantly reminded of what it felt like when those wealthy werewolf women were nasty to me at the networking event that I went to

nothing, nothing,” the teacher said, waving her hand

was sitting with her spoke up when he realized that I knew that something was going

“It’s just… Well, we heard about what happened at the warehouse. It’s all

my arms across

red. “There are some rumors circulating that you’re not actually human, but

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 turned into

Well, late bloomers are very rare. Some people see it as a

they were talking about me. But now, to hear that they were talking about my baby? “What about my baby?” I snarled,

like a fish gasping on land. Suddenly, the female teacher spoke up. “More often than not, the children of

to feel the anger 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 turned and stormed off toward the door. Just before I left,

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

…

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

of

I replied. “I’m