That sentence struck the room like thunder.
Olivia looked away.
Matthew opened his eyes slowly. “What?”
Noah’s chin trembled, but he fought it.
“We put flowers in her room. Olivia helped us. Grace made a card. We waited for you.”
Matthew felt Grace’s small body stiffen in his arms.
“I called your office,” Olivia said quietly. “I left a message with your assistant. I’m sorry if I overstepped.”
Matthew stared at her.
His assistant had never told him.
Or maybe she had, buried beneath a schedule he had chosen not to read closely.
Either way, the failure was his.
“What did I do that day?” Matthew asked, though he already dreaded the answer.
Olivia hesitated.
Noah answered.
“You went to Dubai.”
The silence afterward was merciless.
Matthew looked down at his daughter.
Grace whispered, “I saved you cake.”
He bent forward until his forehead touched hers.
“I don’t deserve you,” he said.
Noah pushed back his chair abruptly. For a second, Matthew thought his son was leaving. Instead, Noah walked to the sideboard and picked up a folded piece of paper.
He brought it to Matthew and held it out.
Matthew took it.
It was a drawing.
Crayon. Slightly smudged. A house. A mother with yellow hair and angel wings. Two children. A woman in a gray dress holding their hands.
And at the far edge of the page, outside the house, stood a tall man in a black suit, holding a phone.
Matthew’s hands shook.
“Who is that?” he asked, though he knew.
Noah’s voice was barely audible.
“That’s you.”
Matthew stared at the drawing until tears blurred the colors.
Olivia turned away fully now, giving him privacy he did not deserve.
But Matthew looked up.
“Olivia.”
She froze.
“Yes, sir?”
He stood, still holding Grace.
Then, with a humility that shocked even himself, Matthew Hayes said the words no one in that mansion had ever heard from him.
“Thank you for loving my children when I made them feel alone.”
Olivia’s eyes filled instantly, but she blinked the tears back.
“They are easy to love, Mr. Hayes.”