The argument ended abruptly. Patricia swept past Rebecca without a glance, silk robe whispering against the floor. Behind the closed door, the crying continued, faint and exhausted. After several minutes, Rebecca did something she had not been hired to do. She knocked.
Benjamin opened the door looking broken. His hair was uncombed, his eyes bloodshot. Lucas lay limp against his chest, pale and frighteningly still. “I do not know what else to try,” he whispered. “Nothing works.”
Rebecca stepped forward instinctively and took the baby. Her body reacted before her mind could intervene. Lucas quieted immediately, his eyes opening as if recognizing safety. Rebecca swallowed hard. “Sir,” she said carefully, “I recently gave birth. My child passed away, but my body still produces milk.”
The confession hurt like reopening a wound. “If you allow me,” she continued, “just tonight, I can try.”
Benjamin hesitated only a moment. “Please,” he said. “Help him.”
She sat on the sofa, hands shaking, and brought the baby to her chest. Lucas latched on instantly, feeding with desperate strength. Benjamin sank into a chair and covered his face, the illusion of control finally shattered.