“They were laughing,” Lily said quietly. “We were helping Caleb strengthen his balance.”
“I pay you to teach them manners—not turn my home into a playground.”
She stood slowly, removing her gloves.
“You’re firing me,” she whispered.
“Yes. Pack your things.”
As she left, the boys cried harder than Harrison had ever heard.
From the hallway, Mrs. Whitmore watched with satisfaction.
Within minutes, Harrison sat helplessly on the sofa, unable to calm his sons.
Mrs. Whitmore glided in with false sympathy.
“She’s spoiled them,” she murmured. “These girls from nowhere… they get attached. They forget their place.”
Her words twisted into his grief.
“She’ll never replace Margaret,” he muttered.
“Of course not,” Mrs. Whitmore agreed smoothly. “But she’d try.”
Fueled by pride, Harrison marched to Lily’s quarters.
He threw her final paycheck onto the bed.
“Take it and leave.”
She didn’t touch the money.
“What you saw wasn’t a circus,” she said softly. “It was love.”
“Don’t preach to me.”
“Sons are hungry for touch,” she continued. “Not just tutors and doctors.”
“Enough.”
She picked up her bag and left.
But as she reached the back door, Caleb’s screams turned desperate—choking, gasping.
Harrison panicked.