Of course he did. A house call was nothing to him. An automatic expense. Health was convenience.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Richard asked quietly.
Elena gave a humorless laugh. “Tell you what? That I need time off? That I can’t afford a private clinic? I’m not indispensable, sir. I’m replaceable.”
Replaceable.
The word hung heavy.
“You’re not,” Richard said firmly, surprising even himself. “Tomorrow you don’t come in. You take Mateo to a doctor. You get tests. You buy whatever medicine he needs. Bring me the receipts.”
Her eyes widened.
“I’m not asking for charity.”
“It’s not charity,” he replied. “It’s my shame. Three years, Elena. I never even knew your son’s name.”
Ethan suddenly pointed toward an ice cream cart.
“Can we get some?”
Richard looked at the cart. Then at Elena.
“Do you want one?” he asked her.
She hesitated like it was a trick question.
“…Strawberry,” she said softly.
The three of them sat on the bench eating melting ice cream while Ethan dripped chocolate everywhere.
It was such a small thing.
But something shifted.
That evening, Richard drove home without his usual driver. He needed the noise of Fifth Avenue traffic to think.