Chapter 4: The Healer’s Touch**
Julian carried Leo upstairs to the master suite, refusing to let the boy return to his own bedroom down the hall from where the nightmare occurred. Maria followed closely with a bowl of warm water, clean towels, and a first-aid kit from the pantry.
She sat on the edge of the large bed, gently washing the gray plaster dust from Leo’s cheeks and hands. Her movements were calm, practiced, and filled with a maternal gentleness that had been absent from this cold mansion since Leo’s mother had passed three years ago.
“Does anything hurt, Leo?” Maria asked softly, checking his elbows and knees for bruises.
Leo shook his head slowly. “My throat feels dry. The air smelled funny in there.”
“I’ll have Dr. Morrison come over immediately,” Julian said, pacing near the balcony doors with his phone in hand.
“He doesn’t need a doctor right now, Mr. Vance,” Maria said gently, catching Julian’s frantic gaze. “He needs water, rest, and to know his father isn't going anywhere.”
Julian paused, lowering his phone. The power dynamics of employer and employee blurred into nothingness in the quiet room. He looked at Maria—her uniform stained with sweat and blood, her hands bruised from saving his son—and felt a wave of profound humility.
“Thank you, Maria,” Julian said, his voice thick. “You risked everything tonight. Evelyn threatened you, didn't she?”
Maria wiped Leo’s brow with a damp cloth. “She told me if I searched for him, she would frame me for theft and have me deported. But a child’s life isn’t something you weigh against your own comfort.”
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Julian swallowed the lump in his throat. For years, he had surrounded himself with yes-men, socialites, and high-society predators who calculated every word for profit. Yet the only person in this house with true nobility was the woman he paid an hourly wage to clean his floors.
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