Chapter 16
Three months later, Ella came to my office at 1:17 in the afternoon.
Not morning.
Not night.
Afternoon.
She marched in holding a toy vacuum.
I stared.
Claire laughed from the doorway.
“Your daughter picked it.”
I looked at Ella.
“Why?”
She shrugged.
“I clean faster than you.”
Apparently trauma and comedy can coexist.
Good.
Sophie toddled behind her now, unstable but determined.
I had missed her first steps by two days because I was away handling a crew dispute.
That hurt.
Claire saw it.
“You’re allowed to miss things now.”
I looked at her.
“That’s supposed to help?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because missing something is different from having it stolen.”
I stood still.
That sentence settled somewhere deep.
Yes.
I would miss moments.
So would Claire.
So would the girls.
Normal families do.
The problem was never absence itself.
It was people controlling what absence meant.
Ella drove the toy vacuum into my desk.
“Oops.”
I looked at her.
She froze.
Then slowly reached for an imaginary cloth.
My chest tightened.
Old reflex.
I crouched.
“Ella.”
She looked up.
“You don’t have to clean that.”
“It’s not broken.”
“Still.”
She stared at me.
Then let go of the toy.
Claire saw.
Her eyes filled.
Ella immediately pointed.
“Mommy’s crying.”
Claire laughed.
“I’m fine.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“Don’t teach them that.”
Claire smiled through tears.
“Fair.”
We were learning.
Slowly.
No hiding discomfort.
No pretending anger meant disloyalty.
No making children earn rest.
The office changed too.
The locked supply closet was removed.
Not the room.
The lock.
Claire requested that.
We turned it into open storage for staff.
No one needed permission to enter.
The cabinet where the envelope had been hidden remained.
The new vase sat on top.
Ella hated it.
“Ugly.”
I agreed.
Claire did not.
So it stayed.
May you like
Apparently democracy had entered the Bellrose executive floor.
Terrifying.
