He listened without interrupting.
“When I saw Ethan, I felt the same thing. You can’t just stand by when a child still wants to fight. He only needed someone to believe in him.”
“And if I’d fired you for this?” he asked quietly.
Lucy smiled faintly. “Then at least I would’ve known I did the right thing once.”
Weeks passed.
Andrew started coming home earlier. Staying longer.
He ate dinner with Ethan, listened to his stories, watched him try—again and again—to stand on his own.
Lucy was often beside him, steady and patient, offering quiet encouragement.
When Catherine returned, the atmosphere shifted instantly.
“What’s going on here?” she asked coldly. “Have you suddenly become a family man? You—a businessman—playing house with the nanny and the child?”
“Maybe for the first time in my life, I’m doing something that actually matters,” he replied calmly.
She said nothing, but her eyes hardened.
One evening, Andrew found them in the yard.
Ethan was walking without his crutches—slow, unsteady—and Lucy stayed close, ready to catch him.
“Come on, champ. One more step,” she encouraged.
The boy took a step… then another… and fell into her arms, laughing.
Andrew stood frozen in the doorway.