“How many children do you have,” she asked, unsure why the question mattered so much to her.
“Three,” he replied. “And the baby.”
Her breath caught slightly.
“And their mother.”
He lowered his eyes.
“She passed away last winter,” he said quietly. “Leukemia. It moved faster than we were prepared for.”
The words settled heavily in the room.
Before Madeline could respond, a coughing fit erupted from the bedroom, deep and persistent. Thomas moved quickly, lifting the baby into a small playpen before hurrying toward the sound.
Madeline followed without thinking.
A thin boy lay beneath a pile of blankets, his skin flushed and his breathing shallow. A thermometer and an empty bottle of medicine rested on the nightstand.
“He worsened last night,” Thomas said. “I tried to manage it, but I could not leave him alone.”
For the first time in her adult life, Madeline felt useless.
Money meant nothing in that moment. Authority meant nothing. She reached for her phone.
“Stay here,” she said. “I will take care of this.”