His Nanny Mate By Eve Above Story

Chapter 295

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Chapter 295 Black Eyes & White Lies

Ella

The dim light of the restroom cast shadows that danced eerily across the ornate walls. I stood there, staring blankly at the face reflected back at me from the gilded mirror. The hushed. whispers of the escorts in the adjacent stalls echoed painfully in my mind, punctuated by the occasional muted giggle from the ballroom outside.

A world of stark contrasts. My heart thudded painfully, each beat. screaming a desperate question. What could I, Ella, do in a world of opulence, where beneath the surface, darkness thrived?

“Ella.” The soft, husky voice in my mind was familiar, comforting. Ema always seemed to speak up when I was in turmoil, a constant friend and source of reason. “These women… they need our help.

I closed my eyes, trying to still the tumultuous emotions raging within. “It’s not our world, Ema. Interfering might bring danger to us and them.”

There was a pause, and when Ema spoke, there was a gentle conviction in her tone. “We are strong,

Ella. We are wolf and woman. These women, they’re victims of predators of a different kind. Women

should help women, stand together, protect each other.”

“But Logan’s world is intertwined with theirs,” I whispered out loud, my voice shaky. “If I do something,

there could be dire consequences. Not just for me, but for those escorts too.”

Ema’s presence in my mind was warm, a stark contrast to the coldness of my fears. “All you need to do

is tell Logan. Perhaps he’ll have advice, or maybe he’ll act on it. From what we’ve seen, he cares about

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you. He can be trusted.”

I leaned against the cold marble sink, letting out a shaky breath. Images of Logan’s tender touches and

sweet words from earlier that night, memories of our dance in my living room, it all swirled in my mind.

But there was also a lurking fear, one that had been planted by the whispered tales of the escorts about

the unpredictable nature of men tied to the mob.

“But what if he really is just like them?” I questioned, my voice barely audible. “What if he’s just playing

a part, portraying himself as sweet and caring, but beneath the facade, he’s just another monster?”

The weight of that possibility was crushing. What if bringing this to Logan was the trigger, the thing that

unveiled his true nature? What if I ended up becoming another whispered tale among these women,

another story of a girl who tried to fight the darkness and got consumed?

Ema’s response was a gentle nudge, a feeling more than words. It was a reminder of the bond. we

shared, the strength that came from being wolf and woman.

“We can’t predict the future, Ella. But if we stand by, do nothing, the weight of that inaction might be too

much to bear.”

I inhaled deeply, the scent of the perfumed restroom filling my senses. The realization hit me with a

clarity that was jolting. Yes, there was danger. Yes, there was uncertainty. But the idea of not acting, of

letting another woman suffer without trying to help, felt like a betrayal to my very soul.

Drawing from the strength that Ema provided, I made up my mind. I’d talk to Logan. Regardless of the

outcome, I had to try. Because the true danger wasn’t just in the world outside, it was in the battle

raging within-the fight between fear and doing what was right.

The weight of the opulent restroom’s door against my hand seemed in stark contrast to the reality I’d

just witnessed within. As I stepped back out into the main area, the voices and laughter from the

ballroom flowed over me like a rushing river, but I felt detached, lost in the stories the escorts had

shared.

“Hey.” Logan’s voice broke through my reverie, his clear eyes searching mine. “You were gone for a

while. Everything okay?” I hesitated, wondering once more if I should share. But the memory of Lina’s

pained, blackened eye, and my wolf’s urgency, made me blurt out the truth.

“I met some girls in there. Escorts. One of them… she had a black eye.”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. The fine lines on his face seemed to deepen, as if

he was all too familiar with stories like this.

“It happens sometimes,” he murmured, a shadow crossing his features. “Some of these men only see

them as objects, thinking their wealth and power lets them get away with treating them like trash.”

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I felt both surprised and relieved by Logan’s response. “They can’t just…. hurt these girls without

consequences, Logan,” I countered, my voice shaking. Logan glanced around before leaning closer.

“I’ll take care of it,” he promised, his voice laced with a lethal calm. My heart raced. “Are you sure?

Won’t that cause issues for you?”

He chuckled darkly. “Ella, I’m the son of one of the biggest Mafia bosses in this city. If anything, giving

someone a lesson will be entertainment for most of these men.”

I stared at him, torn between gratitude for standing up for what was right and horror at the thought of violence that might ensue. Before I could protest further, Logan motioned to two of his men.

“Find the guy who thinks it’s okay to hit women,” he said, his voice low and menacing. It was surreal, watching Logan’s men scan the room, and then, with a nod from one, converge on a man who instantly looked alarmed.

He was standing alongside Lina, gripping her upper arm with an intensity that frightened me even from where I stood. But upon seeing Logan’s men descend on him, he released his grip on the escort, his eyes widening.

The weight of realization sank in as they began dragging him toward the restroom.

“No…” I whispered, feeling my stomach churn. The ballroom’s ambiance seemed to fade as I was acutely aware of every muffled thud and pained groan emanating from the restroom. Within minutes, which felt like an eternity, Logan emerged, his demeanor one of cold satisfaction. Blood stained his knuckles, a stark contrast to the white shirt he wore.

I felt my knees go weak, and I grasped the edge of a table for support. “Is he…?”

“He’ll live,” Logan said, wiping his hands with a cloth one of his men handed him. “But he’ll think twice before laying a hand on a woman again. A few scars might serve as a good reminder.”

The room around me swayed, and the weight of what had just transpired pressed down on me. I struggled with the morality of it all.

Was it right to stand up for an innocent and watch another beaten so brutally? What if Lina or the other escorts faced consequences for speaking out?

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