Wilbet – POV
Leaving Emile’s house left me more disoriented than usual. I used to run to her for closure, for comfort—a distraction that made forgetting easier. But now? I couldn’t even forget in peace.
I slid into the driver’s seat of my Bentley and backed out of the driveway. If any of Emile’s staff were shocked to see me behind the wheel, they didn’t show it. Honestly, I wouldn’t have blamed them. I couldn’t even remember the last time I drove myself anywhere. But now, it was something I had to do. Letting the driver go was one of many decisions forced by truth I could no longer outrun: we couldn’t afford him.
And that wasn’t even the worst of it. Aziza had started noticing. The missing day staff. The cleaner who didn’t show. The little girl who now served her breakfast alone. I sile
