The Toxic Nanny Eviction Never Mess with a Happy Woman Chapter 1

I paid my live-in nanny Brenda thirty-five hundred dollars a month. In return, she secretly used my three-hundred-dollar luxury essence as foot lotion and shoved cold leftover scraps down my toddler's throat.

When I caught her red-handed, she didn't even flinch. "What's wrong with leftovers? Kids these days are far too spoiled!"

The moment I pulled up the nanny-cam footage to fire her, she threw herself onto the floor, screaming and throwing a wild tantrum.

Her daughter immediately jumped in, accusing me of withholding wages. Within hours, she summoned a mob of distant relatives to blockade my front door.

Even my real estate agent tried to lecture me. "Come on, Evelyn. They're underprivileged. You've got plenty of cash. Just write them a check and settle it."

I live by one rule: never wrestle with pigs. If you have a happy life, just step aside and let toxic people choke on their own filth.

She refused to move out? Fine. I would move out. Selling the house would solve everything.

I did a quick background check and found out her daughter worked at a local corporate office nearby, and her CEO was actively house hunting.

I went straight to him and sold the property to him at a two-hundred-thousand-dollar discount below market value.

On moving day, Brenda’s daughter stood in front of the moving truck, arms akimbo and smirking smugly.

"Moving won't save you! My mom is staying put. Whoever buys or rents this place gets run out of town. We're glued to you for life!"

I almost laughed out loud.

Go ahead, keep squatting. I couldn't wait to see how Brenda planned on kicking out her own daughter's billionaire boss.

I walked into my master bedroom and started packing.

The vanity table, which was always organized down to the millimeter, looked practically stripped.

My chest tightened. I rushed over.

More than half of my luxury skincare collection was gone.

My La Mer moisturizing cream had vanished.

My Helena Rubinstein restorative serum was nowhere to be seen.

Even the brand-new anti-aging concentrate I had just bought for nearly three thousand dollars was missing.

Left behind were only the cheap drugstore moisturizers I rarely touched.

I didn't even have to guess who was responsible.

Apart from my immediate family, Brenda was the only other person in this house.

She had always played the part of a timid, simple older woman. But behind my back, her sticky fingers reached into every corner.

People like her had an itch for taking things that didn't belong to them. Whenever they saw something shiny and valuable, they just couldn't resist.

I inhaled deeply, forcing the rage down into my chest, and turned around.

At the end of the hallway was the nanny's guest room.

The door was left slightly ajar, letting out a pungent wave of cheap perfume mixed with stale sweat.

I pushed the door open. My eyes instantly locked onto her nightstand.

Every single missing bottle was boldly arranged right there.

The caps were unscrewed. Some of the jars were half-empty.

My three-hundred-dollar miracle essence was almost completely drained.

The nanny-cam memory flashed in my mind—Brenda slathering that very bottle onto her cracked, dirty heels. A wave of nausea hit my stomach.

I pulled out my phone and snapped several high-resolution photos in rapid succession.

The flash reflected against the polished glass. Right then, a screeching voice pierced the air from behind me.

"What the hell are you doing in here!"

Brenda stood in the doorway, her bloodshot eyes glaring at me with raw hostility.

I tucked my phone into my pocket, turned around, and met her gaze coldly.

"Just taking a look."

I pointed directly at the nightstand, my voice eerily calm.

"Care to explain how all my stolen designer cosmetics ended up in your bedroom?"

Brenda’s eyes darted around for a fraction of a second. Then she stiffened her neck and barked back.

"Don't you dare slander me! These are mine!"

"Yours?"

A sharp, humorless chuckle escaped my lips.

"That La Mer cream alone costs more than your monthly paycheck. You expect me to believe you bought it?"

"Why couldn't I buy it?"

Brenda shoved me aside aggressively and shielded the nightstand with her body.

"I scrimp and save every penny to send my daughter through college! Can't I treat myself to something nice for once?

"What about you? Barging into my private room without permission—are you trying to steal from me?"

Steal from her?

The sheer audacity of this woman was astonishing. She could flip the blame faster than a professional con artist.

I crossed my arms and swept a contemptuous look over her faded ten-dollar outfit.

"Brenda, everything on your body right now isn't worth twenty bucks.

"Do you honestly think I’d steal anything from you?"

The truth struck a nerve. Brenda’s face instantly flushed the color of a bruised beet.

She shrieked at the top of her lungs.

"You think you're better than me!

"Just because you have money gives you the right to walk all over honest folks?

"You rich snobs can just frame anyone you want, huh?"

I wasn't about to waste another breath on her. I turned on my heel toward the front door.

Engaging with a delusional parasite was a complete waste of energy.

I had already hired the moving crew. They were scheduled to arrive any minute.

If she loved this house so much, she could keep it. The deed wouldn't belong to me anymore anyway.

Seeing me turn away, Brenda assumed I was backing down. Her arrogance exploded.

She lunged forward and grabbed the fabric of my sleeve tightly.

"Don't you dare walk away! We settle this right here and right now!

"You ruined my reputation! You're going to pay me for damages!"