Chapter 6
Chapter 6
That afternoon Thomas found Marisol in the greenhouse.
The estate's gardeners rarely used it anymore.
Most of the orchids had died years ago.
Only a handful of plants remained.
Marisol was watering them when she heard footsteps.
She turned.
Immediately tense.
"Mr. Hargrove."
Thomas stepped inside.
Sunlight filtered through the glass ceiling above them.
For a moment neither spoke.
Then he asked a simple question.
"How did you know my wife?"
The watering can froze in her hands.
Her expression changed instantly.
Not fear.
Sadness.
Deep sadness.
"I wondered when you'd ask."
Thomas waited.
Marisol carefully set the can aside.
"I met her at Saint Vincent's."
"When?"
"About four years ago."
Thomas remembered the hospital.
The endless appointments.
The treatments Rachel rarely complained about.
The days that blurred together.
"I volunteered there after classes," Marisol continued. "Mostly reading to patients."
Thomas said nothing.
"Your wife hated being treated like she was sick."
A faint smile touched his face.
"That sounds like Rachel."
Marisol nodded.
"Everyone spoke to her differently after they learned who she was."
"And you didn't?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because she asked me not to."
For the first time Thomas laughed softly.
That sounded exactly like Rachel.
Marisol looked down.
"She was kind to me."
Thomas noticed her eyes glistening.
"She paid for my final year of school."
The words stunned him.
"What?"
"I never told anyone."
Thomas stared.
Rachel had done things like that.
Quietly.
Without recognition.
Without publicity.
But even so, this surprised him.
"Why?"
Marisol smiled sadly.
"She said someone once helped her when she was young."
The greenhouse fell silent.
Outside, wind rustled the trees.
"Before she died," Marisol continued, "she asked me for a favor."
Thomas's heartbeat quickened.
"What favor?"
Marisol hesitated.
Then finally answered.
"She asked me to watch over your boys."
The words hit harder than he expected.
For several seconds he couldn't speak.
Rachel had known.
Not about the accident specifically.
But about the possibility that one day their sons might need someone.
Someone patient.
Someone honest.
Someone who wouldn't care about money or status.
Someone exactly like Marisol.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Marisol looked away.
"Because she told me not to."
Thomas laughed once in disbelief.
"That seems to be a recurring theme."
A small smile appeared on her face.
Then vanished.
"Mr. Hargrove..."
"What?"
"Diana knows about the trust."
His expression darkened.
"I thought so."
"No."
Marisol shook her head.
"You don't understand."
The fear in her voice returned.
Real fear.
The kind that couldn't be faked.
Thomas felt his stomach tighten.
"What am I not understanding?"
Marisol swallowed.
Then spoke the sentence that changed everything.
"She already tried to access it."
The greenhouse suddenly felt very quiet.
Very still.
May you like
And for the second time in two days, Thomas realized the danger wasn't coming.
It was already here.
