Chapter 4
Word moved through the estate like wildfire. By noon, the whispers among the staff were deafening. A maid—a common, debt-ridden civilian—had spent the night in the master suite, and the boss hadn't thrown her out or fired her.
Rosa, the head housekeeper who had served the family for forty years, brought a tray of chicken soup up to the second-floor guest suite later that afternoon. I was sitting in the corner armchair, reading a financial report on my tablet, when she knocked softly and entered.
Rosa set the tray down on the bedside table, glanced at Emma sleeping peacefully, and then turned her sharp eyes toward me.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Daniel,” Rosa said in her low, raspy brogue. “People in our line of work don't bring strays into the house. It gives enemies leverage.”
“Let them look for leverage,” I replied without looking up from my screen. “Nobody touches her. If any of the guards or staff treat her with anything less than absolute respect while she’s under this roof, they answer to me.”
Rosa sighed, shaking her head. “She has a mother in a memory-care facility down on Ashland Avenue. The bills are piling up. That’s why she’s breaking her back working double shifts.”
I stopped reading. The tablet screen went dark. “How much?”
“Ten thousand behind,” Rosa murmured. “And the facility is threatening to discharge her mother by the end of the month.”
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I didn't say a word. I simply reached into my jacket pocket, pulled out a thick black checkbook, and scrawled a line of numbers across a blank slip before tearing it out and tossing it onto the tray.
“Pay it in full,” I said quietly. “Mark it as a retroactive bonus for night cleaning.”
