“So you watched me clean your house.”
“Yes.”
“For eight years.”
Her voice dropped.
“At first, I thought I would tell you after a month.”
“What happened?”
“You returned Harold’s ring.”
I nearly laughed.
“That made you delay telling me?”
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“No.”
Margaret’s eyes met mine.
“It made me realize what kind of person you were.”
She swallowed.
“And I became ashamed.”
“Of what?”
“That you were better than the man who created you.”
The words landed heavily.
“I kept postponing it.
A month became a year.
Then two.”
“And meanwhile you let me struggle.”
“I helped when I could without exposing the truth.”
