“So you chose domestic work instead.”

“I chose survival,” she said simply.

His eyes shifted briefly to Mrs. Gordon, then back to Maya. “You handled the situation adequately.” From him, it sounded almost like genuine gratitude.

“Good night, Mr. Penhaligon,” she said.

On Monday, her responsibilities changed. No one announced it officially, but Maya began finding tasks assigned closer and closer to Arthur’s private spaces.

She brought coffee to the hallway outside his study, then into the study itself. She organized the bookshelves on the east wall while he worked. She watered the plant near his bedroom balcony and tended to his needs with a quiet, efficient grace.