The nurse saw Jessica signing and, blinking in sympathy, lamented, "She's so beautiful—what a shame she can't speak."

Henry could read Jessica's sign language. She was telling the nurse that she was his mother. He tensed, terrified she'd use her voice synthesizer and reveal the

truth.

Annoyance crept into his voice. "What are you waving your hands around for? No one else understands your sign language."

Jessica pulled out her phone, intent on using her voice ring to speak.

But Henry snatched her phone away before she could, turning to the nurse with a bright, practiced smile. "Ma'am, she's our housekeeper. My dad likes a quiet home, so he hired someone who doesn't talk."

Jessica froze.

Did he just say she was the housekeeper?

She'd seen this plot play out on TV-sons, ashamed of their mothers after making something of themselves, introducing them to others as the help or distant relatives. The mothers never got angry; they'd just cry quietly, terrified of embarrassing their child.

Jessica had always despised those ungrateful sons with a vengeance.

wildest dreams had she imagined that one day, she'd find

silent tears-the pain was like a knife twisting in

around Henry's arm and dabbed his skin with

Jessica instinctively tried to hug Henry, worried he

impatience. "I'm not a little kid anymore. I'm tough—I'm not scared of

nurse, seeing how brave he was, smiled approvingly. "You're a brave

tightened and his brows furrowed, but he

mother for six years-she knew better than anyone

puffed up a little with pride.

Henry. Last time you were

that Sheila was his mother, and guilt pricked at

your mom around, you're

tidying up, but then glanced at them curiously. "By the way, where's

my dad on

clenched into fists before she could

back to The Gilded Whisper Estates last night— she'd gone to Capital City

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