Evelyn leans forward slightly.
"There's one thing I want to be very clear about," she says.
Her tone shifts. It's still calm, but weighted now with something that feels like warning and reassurance tangled together.
"Arthur did not request access to your wealth. In fact, your financial situation came up as a complication, not a benefit."
I blink, startled.
"He knows wealth comes with challenges," she continues. "He understands how to live inside that level of exposure—without losing himself to it."
I open my mouth to protest, but Evelyn raises a hand gently.
"Any financial advisor we set you up with has risks," she says. "Any investment has the potential for loss. But going in with someone who swims in that pool every day will save you a lot of headache, and is our safest suggestion."
She pauses, watching me carefully.
"I am not trying to push you into something. I'm giving you the full picture."
I stare at my hands.
Arthur isn't looking for a nanny.
He's acknowledging that he needs help, and is willing to open the door to his life. Even though it's hard.
He’s looking for someone who can exist in his life without being consumed by it.
Someone who won't need him to be different than he is.
Someone his son trusts.
My throat tightens.
"He's not asking for your money," Evelyn says quietly.
Her gaze holds mine, steady and unflinching.
"He's asking for you."
