MARTIN WEST'S GUEST HOUSE
Martin’s housekeeper opened the door, offering a polite, cautious smile as she took in the well-dressed woman standing on the threshold.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” the housekeeper said, stepping slightly into the doorway to block the entrance. “I’m sorry, but Mr. West isn’t receiving visitors right now.”
Mrs. West returned the smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She clasped her handbag in front of her with both hands, her posture relaxed, almost casual.
“I’m not just any visitor,” she said lightly. “I’m his mother.”
The housekeeper’s smile faltered. “I understand, ma’am, but Mr. West gave strict instructions that he’s not to be disturbed—”
Mrs. West tilted her head slightly, her voice gentle but firm. “You’re very loyal. I appreciate that. But I assure you,
