The change in Millie was instantaneous. All the bright, giggling energy drained from her body. She scrambled off the couch, shoulders hunching, eyes dropping to the floor. The pillow fell from her hands.
"We were just watching TV," I said, sitting up and keeping my voice steady. "Millie had energy to burn after lessons."
"This is a home, not a gymnasium." Victoria's gaze swept the room like she was cataloging damages. "And this ismyliving room. I'd appreciate it if you remembered that."
The way she said ‘my’ like Millie was a stray who'd wandered in and shed on the furniture, ignited something reckless within me.
"It's also Millie's home," I said, standing. "She's a child. She's allowed to laugh. She's allowed to play in her own house."
"I don't recall asking for your opinion on how my household is run." Victoria's smile sharpened. "Your domain is the morning room. Not my personal spaces."
"Your personal spaces include a seven-year-old who lives here." I stepped forward, putting myself between Victoria and Millie. "Speaking to her like she's an inconvenience isn't acceptable."
"How I speak to my stepdaughter is none of your concern." Victoria's composure cracked, frost giving way to heat. "You are anemployee. You would do well to remember your place."
"My place is wherever a child needs somebody to stand up for her."
"Howdare?—"
"What's going on?"
Nathaniel's voice cut through the escalating tension. He stood in the hallway entrance, tie loosened, briefcase still in hand. His eyes swept the scene: Victoria rigid with fury, me flushed and defiant, Millie shrinking against the couch. A scowl immediately appeared on his face and I could tell from the hand into a fist that he was beyond angry.
I didn't wait for the explosion. Millie didn't need to witness whatever was coming.
"Hey, sweetheart." I crouched to her level, keeping my voice soft. "Let's go upstairs. You can show me that new chapter book."
She nodded mutely, her small hand finding mine with desperate trust. I led her past Nathaniel without meeting his eyes, past Victoria without acknowledging her existence. Behind us, I heard the low rumble of his voice beginning, sharp and dangerous, and Victoria's defensive reply.
I stayed with Millie until the tension drained from her body, reading aloud until her eyes grew heavy. When I was sure she was drifting toward sleep, I slipped out and closed her door softly.
The house was quiet now. Too quiet.
I found Nathaniel in the kitchen, alone. The overhead lights were off, the space illuminated only by under-cabinet LEDs and the gray twilight through the windows. He stood at the island, two crystal glasses and a bottle of whiskey already waiting.
"Is she asleep?" His voice was rough.
"Almost."
He poured amber liquid into both glasses and pushed one toward me. "Sit. Please."
I hesitated, then took the stool across from him. The whiskey burned going down, a trail of fire that settled warm in my stomach.
"Victoria's gone to her room," he said, answering the question I hadn't asked. "We shared a few words."
"I'm sorry if I made things worse."
"You didn't." He stared into his glass. "You defended my daughter. That's not something I need to forgive."
Silence stretched between us, but our unsaid words were loud enough. I watched him swirl the whiskey, his shoulders carrying a weight that had nothing to do with the briefcase he carried home every day or the pressure of running a company.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead."
"How did this happen? You and Victoria. You don't seem like..." I trailed off, unsure how to finish.
"Like what? A match?" His laugh was hollow. "We're not. We never were." He took a slow drink. "After Michaela died, I was drowning. Millie needed a mother figure, or I convinced myself she did. Victoria and I knew each other from high school… weused to be good friends. When she came back from Paris, offered condolences, started coming around... it felt like a solution."
