Chapter 8 - The Aftermath at the Estate
Three days later, the Whitmore estate felt different. The heavy, oppressive gloom that had hung over the grand halls for decades seemed to have lifted, replaced by the crisp, clean scent of burning firewood and bleach.
In the east wing kitchen, Rosa Delgado was humming softly as she packed a small cardboard box of belongings. She had expected a severance check and a curt dismissal when the police investigation concluded, but instead, Nathaniel had personally come to her quarters yesterday afternoon.
He hadn't offered her charity; he had offered her respect.
He had promoted her to estate manager—a position that came with a substantial pay raise, full health benefits, and a college fund trust established in Lily’s name.
Now, little Lily was sitting on the kitchen floor in her yellow socks, happily coloring in a picture book while Rosa folded her remaining sweaters.
A knock sounded at the open door.
Nathaniel stood in the doorway, wearing a simple dark sweater instead of his usual tailored business suit. He looked tired, but for the first time in years, the lines around his eyes seemed softer.
"Rosa," he said politely, knocking his knuckles gently against the doorframe.
"Mr. Whitmore," Rosa said, standing up and wiping her hands on her apron. "Is everything alright? Do you need me to prepare the library for the attorneys?"
"No," Nathaniel smiled faintly. "The attorneys can wait. I actually came to ask you a favor."
Rosa tilted her head, surprised. "Of course, sir. What is it?"
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"My mother is coming home from the hospital this afternoon," Nathaniel said, looking over at Lily, who was busy coloring a blue crayon sky. "And she insists on having a proper welcome dinner. She specifically asked if your mother's famous Texas-style brisket could be on the menu."
Rosa blinked, a slow, genuine smile breaking across her face. "I think we can arrange that, Mr. Whitmore."
