Across the city, Michael sat through a meeting when an assistant approached nervously.
“Sir, the client postponed. It’s canceled for tonight.”
Michael stood immediately.
“Then I’m leaving.”
By eight o’clock, he was on his way home, craving the silence he controlled.
Back at the mansion, Elena murmured a soft tune while wiping the counter.
“Please, God… just tonight.”
The front door creaked open.
Elena froze.
Michael stepped inside, expecting emptiness—but instead heard a lullaby. His house never sang.
He followed the sound to the kitchen and stopped short.
Elena stood there with a sleeping baby on her chest and another clinging to her back.
“What is this?” he demanded.
She turned, pale but steady.
“I thought you’d be later, sir.”
“You brought children into my house?” he snapped. “Is this an orphanage?”
The word cut deep.
“They’re my nephews,” she said quietly.
“And why should that matter?”
“My mother is sick. My sister died. I had no choice.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“Maybe not,” Elena replied, lifting her chin, “but I won’t abandon them.”
“If I fire you right now?” he challenged.
“I’ll accept it,” she said. “But I won’t apologize.”