Not him.
Not her father.
Not the man who had paid every doctor, stood through every diagnosis, slept outside Harper’s door on the nights she trembled in dreams.
This woman.
This maid.
Something hot and defensive flooded his chest.
- “What exactly were you doing with her?” he asked.
Talia’s expression went still.
- “Floor play. Gentle weight shifting. Nothing unsafe.”
- “Weight shifting?”
- “It helps her feel her body again without pressure.”
- “Who authorized that?”
Harper flinched.
Talia lowered her voice.
- “Please. Not loud.”
Elias heard the warning.
But anger had become easier than terror.
- “I asked you a question.”
Talia carefully sat up, keeping Harper supported.
