She was accused of stealing and thrown out of the mansion, not knowing that she was the only thing keeping his children alive; days later, the millionaire had to kneel in the slums to beg for her return

“What is going on here?”

The temperature dropped instantly. Margaret Hale, his mother, stood rigid in the doorway. Natalie froze. The music kept playing, now painfully cheerful. The light vanished from the boys’ faces.

“This is unacceptable,” Margaret snapped, turning off the music. “I hired you to maintain order, not run a circus! Look at them—they’re sweating!”

“We were just playing,” Natalie said softly. “Movement helps—”

“You are a servant,” Margaret cut in cruelly. “Uneducated and reckless.”

Jonathan stepped between them. “Mother, stop. They were happy. Lucas was laughing.”

“You’re blinded by grief,” she said coldly. “That girl is dangerous. And things have been going missing.”

“I’ve never taken anything,” Natalie said, tears rising. “I may be poor, but I’m honest.”

Margaret slipped a gold watch into Natalie’s bag unnoticed. Then she dumped the contents onto the table.

“There!” she shouted. “A thief!”

Despite the children screaming and Jonathan’s protests, Margaret forced Natalie out.

The house collapsed again.

The boys refused food. Ethan developed a fever. The doctor’s verdict was devastating. “Psychosomatic. He’s giving up.”