Silence fell. Amanda finally cried—deep, exhausted sobs.
Arthur waited.
“You don’t have to clean bathrooms forever,” he said gently. “I can give you a real job. A fair salary. A future.”
She trembled.
“Sir… I don’t know what to say.”
Arthur took a breath.
“Tonight, you and Bia will stay at my house.”
“What? No— that’s too much.”
“It’s not a favor. It’s protection,” he said. “Roberto is reckless. I won’t risk the child.”
Amanda hesitated. Rich men never offer without reason.
But Bia, exhausted, curled her hand into Arthur’s suit—safe.
“I won’t take your daughter,” Arthur said, meeting her eyes. “A mother is everything. I learned that the worst way.”
“I’m so sorry…”
“I’ll protect you. Whether you like it or not.”
That night, the car took them to Amanda’s neighborhood. Arthur saw it without judgment.
“Leave that,” he said as she packed their few things. “We’ll buy new.”
“It still works—”
“Please,” he said softly. And that word broke her last resistance.
“My niece deserves what she should’ve had.”
My niece.
On the drive, Bia woke briefly, leaned against Arthur’s shoulder, and slept again. Arthur’s face held pain and relief intertwined.