He said nothing.
Because it was true.
And because truth spoken by one’s mother has a cruel way of sounding like judgment even when it is grief.
Two days later, Margaret hired Talia Brooks.
Elias barely noticed her at first.
That was something he would later hate himself for.
Talia was twenty-eight, though her eyes carried the calm patience of someone older. She was not dressed like the polished domestic workers Elias’s staffing agency usually sent. No starched uniform. No stiff smile. No rehearsed deference.
She arrived in a simple gray sweater, dark jeans, and a wool coat faded at the cuffs. Her curls were pulled back loosely, and she carried a canvas tote stuffed with notebooks, children’s books, and what looked like a stuffed rabbit missing one ear.
Elias met her in the foyer while checking messages on his phone.
Margaret introduced them.
