She worked quietly, never asking questions, never complaining. She cleaned, cooked, organized—whatever was needed. Not because the job was easy, but because she had no other choice. She had a daughter to raise.
Sophie was five years old. Small, gentle, and observant. She didn’t talk much, but when she did, it was soft and kind. Even when life was difficult, she found small ways to smile.
One morning, Lena noticed something was wrong.
Sophie was burning with fever.
Her skin was hot, her body weak, her eyes half-closed. Lena’s heart tightened with fear. She couldn’t afford a proper hospital visit yet, and missing work wasn’t an option. If she lost this job, everything would fall apart.
She sat still for a long moment, thinking.
Then she made a decision.
“I’m taking you with me,” she whispered.
At the mansion, Lena found a small unused room. She laid Sophie down carefully, gave her medicine, and covered her with a light blanket.
“Rest, sweetheart. I’ll be close,” she said softly.
Then she went back to work.
The house remained quiet—until a sudden crash broke through the stillness.
Lena froze.
Her heart began to race.
The sound came from Daniel’s room.
Something was wrong.
She ran.