“Part 2: Grace shook her head. “Not anymore.”The words landed heavily.
Fifteen minutes later, Grace came back down with the tray.
Untouched.
The eggs had cooled. The toast had hardened at the edges. The orange slices glistened under the kitchen lights as if even they were waiting for a miracle.
Grace set the tray on the counter and turned toward the sink, her shoulders shaking.
Jessica said nothing at first. She simply stood beside her.
“How long?” she asked softly.
“Two weeks without eating properly,” Grace whispered. “But she’s been disappearing for six months.”
Disappearing.
Jessica knew that word.
She remembered being seven years old at her mother’s funeral, wearing black shoes that pinched her toes, listening to grown-ups say, “She’s in a better place,” as if that was supposed to make a child feel better. She remembered the weeks after, sitting at the kitchen table while her grandmother begged her to take one bite of soup.
She remembered wanting to follow her mother wherever she had gone.
Footsteps sounded from the hall.
Grace straightened quickly. “Mr. Whitmore.”
Alexander entered wearing a dark suit, but he looked nothing like the billionaire whose face appeared on magazine covers. His tie was loose. His eyes were bloodshot. His jaw carried the unshaven shadow of another sleepless night.
He poured coffee without looking at either woman.
“Good morning, sir,” Jessica said.
His gaze shifted to her, barely.
“The new hire.”
“Yes, sir. Jessica Harper.”
He looked at her for a long moment, as if trying to remember how normal conversation worked.
Then he asked, “How long do you think you’ll last here?”