Reina’s eyes widened. “That sounds like mold. If he spends all day in there, that could be poisoning him.”
“I am just the cleaning staff,” Brianna whispered. “What if he thinks I am overstepping?”
“And what if you are right,” Reina replied firmly. “Would you forgive yourself for staying quiet?”
The next morning, Brianna arrived earlier than usual. She found Zachary sitting in his study, reviewing documents with less strain than she had seen in weeks.
“Mr. Lowell,” she said, her hands trembling slightly. “May I speak with you about something important?”
He looked up, surprised by her tone. “Of course. Sit down.”
Brianna explained carefully, choosing her words with respect. She described the damp wall, the smell, and the way his symptoms changed depending on where he spent his time.
For a long moment, Zachary said nothing.
“You believe my bedroom is the cause,” he finally said.
“Yes,” Brianna replied. “I truly do.”
His expression shifted from doubt to concern. “Show me.”
They returned upstairs together. Brianna pulled the cabinet away and pointed. Zachary bent down, inhaled once, then stepped back sharply.
“That is unbearable,” he said quietly. “How did no one catch this?”