“You’re up early,” she said with a stretch. “I told Ruth to polish the silver before noon.”
Ethan kept his face neutral. Ruth’s hands trembled as she lifted the tray. The bruise on her arm had darkened overnight. He noticed her wince when Clare brushed past her, far too roughly.
“Mom,” he said gently, “come eat something.”
Ruth forced a smile.
“After I finish the chores,” she whispered, as though awaiting approval.
The smell of coffee mingled with cleaning polish. The tension was so tight it almost vibrated. Clare scrolled through her phone, pretending not to see any of it.
By noon, Ethan left for his meeting. But just before the elevator doors shut, he glanced back. Ruth stood beside the window, dusting shelves she had already cleaned hours ago.
That night, he reviewed the footage. What he saw made his stomach drop.
Clare lounged on the couch with two friends, laughing while Ruth scrubbed the floor. One friend casually tossed crumbs onto the tiles. Another smirked. Clare raised her wine glass.
“If Ethan insists on keeping her here, she might as well earn her keep.”
Ruth didn’t protest. She just bent lower, voice quivering.
“Yes, ma’am.”