Chapter 2: The Silent House**
Elena looked terrified. In high-society estates, sending a maid to bed was usually the polite preface to a dismissal letter. “Mr. Glenn, I can work through it—”
“That wasn’t a suggestion,” Arthur replied, his voice firm yet devoid of anger. He turned toward the intercom on the kitchen wall and pressed the master button. “Mrs. Gable, come down to the service kitchen immediately. Bring dry towels and hot tea.”
Within minutes, the elderly head housekeeper hurried in, her eyes widening at the puddle of water, the billionaire kneeling on the wet floor, and the shivering four-year-old.
“Take Elena to the guest suite on the lower floor,” Arthur instructed. “Call Dr. Evans. Have him run a full respiratory panel.”
“The guest suite, sir?” Mrs. Gable asked, stunned. Servants were never housed in guest quarters.
“You heard me,” Arthur said flatly. “And clear Elena’s schedule for the next week. Paid medical leave.”
Elena stared at Arthur, tears spilling silently down her cheeks. She tried to bow her head in gratitude, but another coughing fit wracked her body. Mrs. Gable quickly wrapped an arm around Elena’s shoulders and led her away, leaving Nora standing alone by the metal washbasin.
Arthur turned his attention back to the little girl. Nora looked lost, her tiny fingers picking at the hem of her damp apron.
“Come here,” Arthur said, crouching again to reach her height.
Nora hesitated, taking two small, squishing steps forward. “Did Mama do bad?”
“No, sweetheart,” Arthur replied softly, pulling a crisp white handkerchief from his breast pocket and gently drying her damp cheeks. “Your mama did nothing wrong. And neither did you. But from now on, washing shirts is not your job.”
“Then what’s my job?” Nora asked innocently.
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Arthur looked into her wide, sincere eyes, a rare, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Your job is to eat breakfast.”
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