Olivia hummed softly while she worked—a melody barely louder than breath. It was how she steadied herself. The exhaustion she carried wasn’t only from scrubbing marble and dusting crystal. It came from the envelopes stacked on her kitchen table: medical bills, lab reports, treatment estimates with long clinical terms and brutal totals printed in bold. Numbers that swallowed her paycheck before she could even touch it.
She had learned to smile when the bank manager explained things too slowly. Learned to nod when people assumed she didn’t understand. Learned to swallow humiliation so Lily wouldn’t have to taste it.
The front door slammed open.
Richard Caldwell entered as though the house were merely another extension of his will. Tall, tailored suit, silver cufflinks catching the light. He spoke into his phone with the sharp authority of a man accustomed to controlling outcomes.
“Acquire it. If they hesitate, sue them,” he snapped, then ended the call and dropped the phone onto a velvet armchair.
His gaze fell on Olivia.
“Are you finished yet?” he asked flatly.
“Almost, Mr. Caldwell,” she replied without looking up.
He poured himself a drink. Ice clinked in crystal.
Then he noticed Lily.