Least of all Chloe.

Chloe was my fiancee, the woman I was scheduled to marry in three short months.

And it was Chloe who had planted, the night before, the seed that had brought me back.

Over dinner, she had said a single sentence that kept me awake until dawn.

“You trust Marisol far too much, Alexander.” Marisol had worked for me for nearly five years.

She had started as a quiet housekeeper, but after my wife passed away, she had slowly, almost seamlessly, become one of the most comforting presences in my daughters’ lives.