Out of options, he glanced at Martha, who was scrubbing the hallway floor.
“Can you take care of a child?” he asked sharply.
She looked up calmly. “I raised four. And helped with six grandchildren. They’re alive. And decent people.”
He didn’t interview her.
“You’re hired. Feed him. Dress him. Make sure he doesn’t hurt himself. Don’t try to teach him. The experts say he doesn’t process complex information. Just watch him. I’ll be back in a week.”
That was it.
For months, Robert barely noticed her presence. The house was clean. Lucas was fed and neatly dressed every night. But something had changed.
The mansion felt… lighter.
Sometimes Robert caught unfamiliar smells drifting through the halls—vanilla cookies, fresh laundry, lavender. Scents that felt like home, not disinfectant.
Still, he ignored it.
Until one Tuesday morning.
Robert was in his downtown office finalizing a hostile acquisition when his personal phone buzzed. It was his sister, Claire—the only person who dared call him during meetings.
“Robert,” she whispered urgently. “You need to come home.”
“I’m in the middle of the biggest deal this quarter. Is the house on fire?”