Chapter 3 The Cold Evaluation

Maya's sharp heels clicked down the quiet corridor, the thick wool carpet muffling every sound. She pushed open the door of the luxurious final interview lounge and stepped inside. The room was tastefully furnished with soft leather armchairs, and a floor-to-ceiling panoramic window overlooked the estate's calm private lake. Pale winter sunlight streamed through the glass, yet the room held a lingering coldness. Four poised women were already seated. They turned to sharply glare at her as Maya took the last empty chair.

Diane Adler let out a sharp, bitter chuckle. Dressed in an elegant cream blazer, she leaned forward slightly, staring pointedly at Maya's scuffed leather loafers. "I have to ask," she said loudly with obvious disdain, "how does somebody from the Rust Belt-a nobody with no elite connections-slip into this crucial final interview?"

The other women snickered in quiet mockery. Maya did not glance up. She calmly ignored Diane, her steady gaze fixed on the heavy polished mahogany doors leading to the inner office. Her facial expression remained blank and unreadable.

She mentally listed her authoritative certifications: neonatal resuscitation, advanced trauma life support, crisis intervention. These were practical life-saving skills, not empty fancy printed titles.

The solid mahogany doors swung open abruptly. A piercing cold draft swept through the warm lounge, and every faint quiet sound in the room died instantly.

Damien Beaumont strode calmly into the room. His imposing presence pressed heavily over everyone. He wore a sleek charcoal tailored suit with a sharp angular jawline, his icy blue eyes completely devoid of human warmth.

The four nannies quickly straightened their postures. Some nervously fixed their hair, visibly intimidated by Damien's dominant presence.

Damien paid them no mind. He walked straight to the head of the conference table and sat down.

Kevin Robles, his quiet assistant, stepped forward and placed a sleek silver tablet on the table. "The final five candidate dossiers, sir," he murmured in a respectful tone.

Damien swiped through the files slowly. Sharp impatience crossed his face; all resumes were neatly polished, repetitive and hollow.

Diane cleared her throat to break the tense silence. "Mr. Beaumont," she said confidently, "I hold a board position at the National Childcare Association. I have abundant industry resources."

Damien did not lift his cold eyes. "I don't care about your titles," he said in a frigid tone. "I only care about survival rates."

Diane's face flushed bright red. She shrank back in her chair, utterly humiliated, and fell into awkward silence.

Maya realized glamorous resumes meant nothing here. She stood up slowly and walked steadily toward the table.

Kevin stepped forward and firmly blocked her path. "Miss Hayes, remain seated unless instructed otherwise," he said in a steady tone.

Maya stopped two feet away. She calmly held her ground, respectful yet unyielding.

"Mr. Beaumont," Maya said in a clear, calm tone. "I have no fancy board titles. I have rich experience handling acute psychiatric episodes and pediatric physical trauma, specializing in urgent emergency intervention."

Damien stopped scrolling. He slowly raised his eyes to look at Maya for the first time.

His sharp gaze swept over her cheap blazer, bare wrists and pale exhausted face.

His eyes narrowed slightly at the faint pale scar around her wrist-a leftover mark from Pippa.

Damien tossed the tablet carelessly onto the table and leaned back, openly displaying his contemptuous attitude.

"You wear cheap clothing on purpose," he said in a low, cold drawl.

"You fake humility for sympathy. You are a calculating social climber who uses hardship stories to enter wealthy households."

The other nannies snickered softly, enjoying Maya's awkward embarrassment.

Maya felt hot anger surge inside her, but she kept a neutral expression and firmly held his cold gaze.

"My background does not affect my professional competence," Maya replied calmly. "I can keep your family alive in a crisis. That is all that matters."

Damien slowly scanned her from head to toe. He curled his thin lips into a disdainful sneer, ready to speak coldly.