But not like this.
Not since Claris died.
He pushed his chair back.
“Isa…”
The little girl immediately began crying.
Ricardo moved toward her.
But she pulled away.
“Mommy.”
He froze.
Then Luía appeared in the doorway.
She had heard the voice too.
She didn’t say anything.
She simply crouched beside Isabela.
The child looked at her.
For several seconds, they stared at each other.
Then Isabela reached out.
Luía opened her arms.
The little girl walked into them.
Ricardo watched.
He had spent thousands of reais on specialists.
He had hired therapists.
Doctors.
Nannies.
Consultants.
He had tried everything.
And now his daughter was holding onto a housekeeper she had known for only a few hours.
Luía didn’t look triumphant.
She simply held the child.
“You miss her,” she whispered.
Isabela nodded against her shoulder.
“Mommy.”
“I know.”
Ricardo turned away.
He couldn’t let his daughters see him cry.
