Richard dropped to his knees. “Baby. Oh my god, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Amelia ran to him. Richard wrapped his arms around her, sobbing into her hair.
The room erupted. Camera phones came out. People were crying. Victoria stood there, her face twisted in fury.
I started to back away, to fade into the background again. But Amelia turned and looked at me.
“Don’t go,” she said.
Two hours later, I sat in Richard Sterling’s private study. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
“I need to know everything,” Richard said. “Your name. Your background. Everything.”
“Evelyn Carter. Thirty-four. Single mom. I’ve been cleaning houses for six years.” I looked at my hands. “Before that, I worked retail. Before that… foster care until I aged out at eighteen.”
“And your daughter?”
“Emma. She’s seven. Type 1 diabetes. That’s why I work three jobs.”
Richard leaned back in his chair. “The woman you mentioned. Mrs. Rodriguez. Where is she now?”
“She died two years ago. Heart attack.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
We sat in silence for a moment. Then Richard leaned forward. “I want to hire you.”
“You already hired me. I clean your house.”
“No. I want to hire you to work with Amelia. To help her heal.”