In the servants’ corridor, her hands began to shake. Not because he had shouted—but because of the way he’d held that toy, like a man clutching a bone pulled from his own chest.

That night, Catherine was sitting upright on the couch when Maya got home. “You’re home early,” she said.

Maya set her bag on the table with a heavy sigh. “I found something I shouldn’t have.”

Catherine’s brows lifted. “Was it money?”

“No. A toy.”

The old woman was quiet a long moment, nodding to herself. “Ah.”