He couldn’t even remember the lullaby the girls used to ask for before bed.
Three weeks earlier, Vanessa had sat crying on the couch. She had insisted Maria was stealing money, hiding things around the house, and quietly turning the girls against her.
Adrian believed her.
Not because he had proof—but because he was exhausted. Ever since Laura, the girls’ mother, died, he had buried himself in work. The silence in the house had slowly been filled by whoever spoke the loudest.
Now, standing unseen in the hallway, he was witnessing something completely different.
Sophie slipped slightly on her chair, and Maria instinctively steadied her shoulder before she fell.
When Emma complained that one of the strawberries “tasted like the fridge,” Maria simply rinsed it again without showing the slightest irritation.
It was the kind of care that doesn’t ask for recognition.
Then a single sentence changed everything.
Emma set down her fork.
“Vanessa told you to find another job,” she said.
The room grew quiet.
Maria sat beside the girls and spoke gently.
“That’s something adults need to talk about,” she replied. “But I promise you—I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Sophie squeezed her hand tightly.