Well, screw decorum.
Fueled by anger, I shot up and looked around the house I’d lived in for over thirty years.
A modest three-bedroom house. My room? The smallest one, shoved in the farthest corner. Sebastian’s master bedroom sat at the opposite end, like we lived on separate planets.
Because we did.
We were strangers under the same roof. Separate spaces, separate lives, barely touching.
Even the stuff in this house was divided.
Cups, plates, utensils — hell, even the damn chairs — all marked as his, mine, or Jack’s.
I never questioned it. I just figured Sebastian was one of those neat-freak types who liked order.
But now?
I saw it for what it was.
To him — and to Jack — I was never family.
I was just the maid.
The one who cooked, cleaned, and kept them alive, but never crossed into their “real” life.
That’s why everything had to be divided. Everything labeled. Everything kept separate.
Today was the first time I’d set foot in Sebastian’s room, and only because of an emergency. Gigi, Jack’s wife, had broken her leg in an accident, and I couldn’t find him anywhere. I had no choice but to barge in.
Turns out, in this house I built, this life I’d devoted myself to, I’d always been the outsider.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed.
Gigi.
“Helena! Where the hell have you been? Why wasn’t your phone on?” she snapped. “I’m about to go into surgery. Jack — that bastard — is too busy with work to help.
“Can you grab my stuff from home and bring it to the hospital? And get Sebastian to come too.
“I’m in so much pain, and there’s no one here!”
Her tone didn’t bother me. She was young, hurt, scared out of her mind. She broke her leg and was waiting for the surgery.
At the end of the day, it was still our family’s responsibility to step up.
“I’m on my way. Don’t worry,” I said, keeping my voice steady. A few more calming words, and she finally let me end the call.
I sat there for a moment, pulling myself together.
No matter what had happened, I was still a mother.
Gigi had married into this family. She was miles away from her own parents, about to be wheeled into an operating room, and she needed someone.
That’s what mattered.
Whatever grudges stood between Sebastian and me? They couldn’t touch the younger generation.
Jack wasn’t my flesh and blood, but that wasn’t his fault.
I’d raised him with my own two hands and poured my life into him.
A child you raise is your child.
I glanced at Sebastian, still sprawled on the bed, unconscious.
“You bastard,” I muttered. “If you’re so determined to follow your first love to the grave, then do it right. Don’t leave your mess for the living to clean up.”
With a steadying breath, I got to work.
I gathered the scattered letters, stacking them neatly, wiping away any trace I’d been there.
When Jack came home, he’d assume Sebastian died of a sudden heart attack. Everyone knew about Sebastian’s weak heart. No one would question it.
The broken drawer? I swapped it with the one from my own nightstand.
While sliding it into place, something caught my eye — a folded letter tucked in the upper compartment.
Curious, I pulled it out and unfolded the paper.
It was addressed to Jack.
