One evening, as the sun dipped behind the skyline, Richard found Marta in the kitchen.
No staff.
No noise.
Just her, preparing something simple.
“Why did you come here?” he asked.
She didn’t look up right away.
“I needed work,” she said.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Now she met his eyes.
And for a brief moment, he felt something unfamiliar:
He felt… seen.
“I recognized her,” Marta said softly.
“In what way?”
She paused.
“As someone no one was really listening to.”
Richard leaned against the counter, the weight of that truth settling into him.
“I thought I was giving her everything.”
Marta nodded.
“You were giving her the world,” she said.
Then, gently:
“But not yourself.”
He didn’t argue.
For once in his life…
He didn’t try to win.
Upstairs, Sophia laughed.
A small sound.
But in that house of glass and marble…
It echoed like something priceless.
And for the first time in a very long time…
Richard Belmont understood something no amount of wealth had ever taught him:
Some things cannot be bought.
They have to be given.
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