Dual Minor Conspiracies Against My Superior

[POV Daphne]

The morning started falling apart before I even properly opened my eyes.

"Mommy, let’s make pancakes!" Nina's voice pierced through the apartment like a fire alarm. I found her in the kitchen rummaging through drawers.

"We don't have time for pancakes today. Today is Mommy's big day with an interview for her new job, remember? I told you about it last night."

"I don't care about your job." She stuck out her lower lip. "I want pancakes!"

Before I could respond, Lisa appeared in the doorway, her face crumpled with distress. "Mommy, I can't find my purple shoes. I need my purple shoes."

"What about your pink ones? The pink ones are pretty."

"No!" Lisa's eyes welled with tears. "Only purple. Purple is my lucky color."

I glanced at the clock on the near wall.

Forty-five minutes until I needed to walk through those office doors. Forty-five minutes to feed two stubborn four-year-olds, get them dressed, drive across the city, and somehow look like a competent professional worthy of being hired.

"Okay. Okay, let me find the shoes." I dropped to my knees and peered under the couch. One purple shoe, covered in dust bunnies.

I searched the living room, the girls' bedroom, under their beds. Nothing. Nina was now actively flicking oatmeal onto the table with her spoon. I pretended not to see it because I didn't have time for that battle.

The bathroom. Why the bathroom? But there it was—the second purple shoe, sitting inexplicably next to the toilet.

I was on my knees reaching for it when Lisa's quiet voice stopped me cold.

"Mommy, why don't we have a daddy like other kids?"

My hand froze on the shoe. The question hung in the air, innocent and devastating—a knife slipped between my ribs with the gentleness only a four-year-old could manage.

I turned to find her standing in the doorway, thumb hovering near her mouth, dark eyes wide and earnest. Eyes that looked exactly like someone else's.

"What do you mean, baby?" My voice came out steadier than I expected.

"Emma at daycare has a daddy. And Sophie." Lisa's lower lip trembled. "But we don't. Did our daddy not want us?"

The words hit me like a physical blow. How could I possibly explain that to her? How to explain something I don’t know myself? He probably didn’t want me, because he left too early to even get to know about our girls.

I pulled her into my arms, pressing my lips against her dark hair, breathing through the ache in my chest.

"Our family is perfect just the way it is," I whispered. "Mommy loves you and Nina enough for a hundred parents. You know that, right?"

Lisa nodded against my shoulder, small fingers clutching my shirt. "I know, Mommy."

But the question lingered in my chest like a bruise as I helped her into the purple shoes.

I heard a crash from the kitchen.

My coffee mug. My full coffee mug, knocked over by Nina's flailing arm during her oatmeal protest, now spreading a brown river across the counter and down the front of my carefully chosen white blouse.

I stood there for a moment, coffee dripping onto my shoes, and reminded myself that crying wouldn't help.

"Mommy, you're messy," Nina observed.

"Yes. Thank you, Nina. I noticed."

The backup outfit, a slightly wrinkled gray blazer and black pants I'd meant to iron but never got around to, would have to do.

I changed in three minutes flat, wrestled both girls into their jackets, and somehow got them buckled into their car seats only twenty minutes behind schedule.

"Mommy, why are you driving so fast?" Lisa asked from the backseat.

"I'm not driving fast, baby. I'm driving efficiently."

"What's efficiently?"

"It means Mommy's trying not to lose her mind."

I dropped them at daycare with rushed kisses and promises to pick them up right on time. Five years of this—five years of being everything to them, of stretching myself so thin I'd forgotten what it felt like to be whole.

But this job could change things. This job meant stability.

A real paycheck instead of scraping by on freelance projects that barely covered rent. Health insurance for the girls. A chance to rebuild something of the person I used to be before sleepless nights and endless toddler tantrums hollowed me out.

The building made me feel small the moment I stepped inside. Marble floors, mirrored elevators, employees moving with quiet efficiency in their tailored clothes and confident strides.

I tugged at my wrinkled blazer and tried to stand taller. Everything about me felt wrong—shabby, out of place, like I'd wandered into someone else's life by mistake.

While waiting for HR near the reception desk, I overheard two assistants whispering nearby.

"Did you hear? Xander Hale rejected three candidates last week," one said, shaking her head. "Three. All perfectly qualified."

The other woman nodded gravely. "He's impossible to please. Remember Sarah? He made her cry on her second day."

They exchanged knowing looks, and my stomach tightened. The name meant nothing to me, but their tone painted a picture I didn't like.

HR arrived before I could spiral further—a kind-faced woman named Patricia who smiled like she meant it. "Ms. Carter? Right this way. Mr. Hale is expecting you."

She led me to the top floor through a corridor lined with large black-and-white photographs. Corporate achievements. Award ceremonies. Men in suits shaking hands, accepting plaques.

One image made me freeze mid-step.

My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought Patricia must have heard it. A man stood at a podium—sharp features, dark hair, an unwavering stare, and a familiar tension in his jaw.

I knew that face. I knew it intimately, even though I'd only seen it for one night five years ago.

The stranger from the bar. The man who'd made me feel seen and wanted for the first time in my life. Who'd vanished before morning, leaving only a fake name and a phone number that didn't work.

Who'd given me Nina and Lisa without ever knowing it.

"Ms. Carter?" Patricia glanced back, concern flickering across her face. "Everything alright?"

I forced a smile, tearing my eyes away from the photograph. "Fine. Sorry. Just… admiring the décor."