His grip on the leather steering wheel was so tight his knuckles burned, fueled by fury and a poisonous phone call from his aunt, Margaret Holloway.
“That woman can’t be trusted, Adrian. I caught her touching my jewelry. And the children—dirty, neglected.”
Adrian was already resolved to fire Rosa Delgado without mercy. He never imagined that the moment he passed through the iron gates of Maplecrest Estate, everything he believed would collapse.
He braked hard in the gravel driveway, dust splashing over the car’s polished paint. He slammed the door, adjusted his Armani jacket like armor, and headed toward the back of the house. He wanted proof—something that would erase guilt when he dismissed her.
As he walked past the rose garden his late wife Isabella had once cared for, the scent of damp soil filled the air. It usually hurt. Today, it hardened him.
Then he stepped into the garden.
And froze.
Bathed in afternoon sunlight, Rosa knelt in the grass. She wore her plain uniform, apron, and yellow cleaning gloves. Mud stained her knees. Tears streamed down her face—but she was smiling.
Across from her stood Noah and Lucas.
His sons.