Jonathan leaned forward, stunned.
He clicked through more footage. In one, she was helping Oliver eat a few spoonfuls of soup. In another, she pressed a cool cloth to his fevered brow. On a particularly difficult night, she was curled in a recliner beside his bed, her hand still clasped around his, sound asleep.
No one had told her to do this.
No contract demanded it. No paycheck paid her to love his son.
Still, a voice in the back of Jonathan’s mind whispered doubts.
Why? Why would a maid care so deeply? What was she trying to gain? Was she angling for a raise? Sympathy? Manipulation?
Jonathan didn’t like unanswered questions. So he made a decision—one that made even himself uncomfortable.
