Robert blinked, convinced stress had finally pushed him into hallucinations.
“Excuse me, sir,” the girl said.
Her voice was small—but serious in a way no five-year-old’s should be.
“I came to work for my mommy today.”
Robert froze behind his glass desk.
“I’m… sorry?”
The girl took a step forward, her blonde curls catching the fluorescent light.
“My name is Amy. My mommy is Pamela. She cleans here. She’s really good at it.” She paused, taking a deep breath like she’d practiced this speech. “But today she got really sick. Her chest hurt, so they took her to the hospital. She said if she missed work again, she might lose her job. And we can’t lose her job. So I came instead. I know what to do.”
Something cracked inside Robert’s chest.
This was a man who had negotiated billion-dollar mergers without flinching—but the terrified determination in this child’s eyes completely unraveled him.
He stood and slowly walked around his desk.
“Amy,” he said gently, softening a voice usually reserved for boardrooms, “how did you get here?”