“What the hell is going on here?!” he roared, kicking the door open.
The singing stopped instantly. The girls flinched, shrinking together. Lucy dropped the whisk, her face pale.
“Mr. Hayes…” she began softly.
“I pay you to clean and supervise—not to let my daughters climb all over the furniture like this is some cheap apartment!” he snapped, striding forward, fists clenched. “You’re fired. Get out of my house. Now.”
The girls’ breathing quickened. Their eyes filled with pure terror.
No one in that room understood the devastation that was about to follow.
The silence that settled afterward was heavier than anything the house had known before.
Lucy didn’t beg. She didn’t cry.
With quiet dignity, she wiped her flour-covered hands on her apron, nodded once, and gently lifted each girl down from the counter.
“Yes, sir,” she said calmly. “I’ll leave.”
Sophie, Olivia, and Chloe said nothing. Holding hands, heads bowed, they walked upstairs. As they passed him, Alexander caught a glimpse of their faces.
They weren’t looking at him with sadness.
They were afraid of him.
Truly afraid.