Daniel worked longer hours. Sixteen-hour days. Anything to avoid coming home and facing the silence—and the guilt.
Slowly, he pushed the door open.
Through the open glass doors leading to the patio, he saw them.
Leo sat upright in his wheelchair, gripping a bright red accordion, his fingers moving carefully across the keys. Sophie held a guitar nearly as large as her body, strumming with surprising confidence. Their wheelchairs were pulled up to a table covered in pastries, fruit, and bread—like a celebration no one had told him about.
Behind them stood Nadia, the maid he’d hired three months earlier.
Her arms were raised, conducting like a maestro finishing a symphony. Pride lit her face.
“Again,” she said brightly. “Leo, come in stronger this time. Sophie, keep that rhythm steady—you’re doing amazing.”
The twins laughed and began again.
The melody wasn’t perfect. But it was alive.
Daniel felt something crack in his chest.
Nadia noticed him.
Her arms dropped instantly. Her smile vanished.
“Mr. Cross—I—I didn’t know you were home.”
Daniel stepped forward, his voice sharp despite himself.
“What is going on here?”
The music stopped.
Leo’s fingers froze. Sophie’s smile collapsed.