The Sousa mansion stood imposing and silent, its marble floors gleaming under the dim light of the chandeliers. Outside, the winter wind scratched at the tall glass windows, shaking them with each icy gust. Inside, however, the air was thick and heavy. A warmth that clung more to the walls than to the hearts of those who lived there.

Grace adjusted her teal maid’s uniform and rubbed her arm over her thin cleaning gloves. Her forearm still burned where a deep, purple bruise had begun to appear earlier. She had long since learned that bruises were easier to hide than words spoken out of turn. In the Sousa household, silence was the key to survival.

For fourteen hours she had stood, scrubbing, polishing, dusting, but the work didn’t end there. The twins cried until exhaustion at the beginning of the evening, and Grace was the only one to comfort them. Their cries echoed through the air for what seemed like an eternity, and no one else appeared.

The boys, just three months old, now rested on a thin blanket spread on the rug, dressed in their identical light blue onesies. Their little chests rose and fell in unison, fragile and serene. Their rosy cheeks touched gently as they slept, seeking warmth—not from their father or family, but from the only woman who remained.

Grace knelt beside them, her body aching, her spirit exhausted. When she had been hired six months ago, she had been told her role would be simply to clean the house, but the reality had quickly become apparent. The nannies came and went, never staying more than a few weeks. When they left, no one replaced them. It was easier for the Sousas to demand that Grace take on the role of caregiver than to seek help themselves.

The boys’ mother had been gone since giving birth, her memories whispered among the team, as if uttering her name might disturb her peace. Eduardo Sousa, the father, was a man whose name commanded respect in boardrooms and whose decisions moved markets. However, within his own home, he was a ghost. Grace watched the twins sleep, her heart heavy with love and worry.

Earlier, one of them had had a fever, his little fists clenched in pain, while the other had screamed until his throat gave out. Grace had rocked them, hummed, and calmed them as best she could. Now, her arms trembled with exhaustion. She hadn’t dared put them in their room. The room was too cold, the cribs too hard.

That’s why she stayed there, where the carpet retained the warmth of the lamp’s golden light. Exhaustion was dragging her down. She lay down beside the boys, her face resting on her arm, her gloved hand outstretched protectively over the blanket. She listened to their soft breaths, promising herself she wouldn’t close her eyes. But fatigue betrayed her.

It would only be for a moment.

The house was silent when the front door opened. Eduardo Sousa entered, his steps firm, his navy blue suit impeccable, his red tie perfectly aligned. He carried his briefcase in one hand, while the other unbuttoned his jacket. As he moved forward, he stopped abruptly.

There, in the living room, was her maid, lying on the rug, her head next to her children.

The twins slept on the floor, their faces pressed against the soft blanket. Grace’s arm stretched to the edge, a silent sentinel. He noticed the bruise, slight but undeniable. His voice cut through the silence like a blade.

What on earth is going on here?

Grace woke with a start, her heart pounding. She sat up quickly, her eyes darting between him and the boys. One of the babies whimpered.

“I asked you a question,” Eduardo pressed, stepping forward. “Why are my children on the floor? Why are you lying there?” He hesitated, his gaze fixed on the bruise. “What happened to your arm?”

Grace swallowed hard, her voice soft.

They were crying. They needed to…

“They have a nanny for that!” he growled.

For the first time, she did not back down.

—They don’t have any. It’s just me.

A flicker of doubt crossed his face, but his tone remained icy.

Let’s talk. Now. In my office.

Grace’s chest tightened as she looked at the twins, still asleep, so small and oblivious. She stood up slowly, her knees stiff from so many hours on the floor.

The office was dark, lit only by the firelight. Shadows danced across Eduardo’s angular features as he dropped his suitcase.

“Explain it,” his voice was an order.

Grace’s hands trembled, but her words remained steady.

“The twins haven’t had proper care for weeks. The last nanny quit, and no one has replaced her. I clean, cook, and take care of them because no one else does. Today, one of them had a fever. I couldn’t leave him in the freezing room, so I stayed with them in the warmest place I could find.”

His jaw clenched.

—And why were you lying down?

Grace stared at him. Her chest trembled, but she remained composed.

—Because I was exhausted. I’ve been working since dawn. I haven’t eaten since lunch. When they stopped crying, I stayed close in case they woke up. I didn’t want to fall asleep. But if I had to do it again, I would. They felt safe.

Something changed in Eduardo’s expression. The anger subsided, replaced by a sense of heaviness.

“The hematoma?” he asked.

Grace instinctively touched her arm.

“One of your guests at the party last week. He bumped into me as I was walking by with a tray. I fell. Nobody noticed.” He paused. “Or maybe nobody cared.”

Eduardo stood motionless. He remembered that night. The champagne, the laughter, the noise of business and phone calls he hadn’t seen.

Or maybe I hadn’t looked.

“You should have told me,” he murmured.

“Did it matter?” her voice broke. “You don’t see them, Mr. Sousa. You don’t see your children. All they have is me. And I’m not even anyone here. I’m just the maid.”

The fire crackled. The silence stretched on. Eduardo turned to the window, his reflection painted by the orange light, haunted by memories of his late wife and the days he buried himself in his work.

Finally, he said:

—Stay here.

He left the office abruptly. Grace stood there, unsure what to expect. Moments later, he returned with two blue blankets from the boys’ room. Without a word, he knelt—truly knelt—beside his sons. Carefully, he wrapped the blankets around their tiny bodies. Grace watched, her throat tight.

I had never seen him bend down like that, so low, so gently.

—They are smaller than Eduardo ran his fingers across the face of one of the babies, feeling for the first time the fragile warmth of the life he had neglected, and Grace, seeing that hesitant gesture, knew that something inside him had finally awakened.