“The same Daniel I met?”
Liam grinned.
“Maybe he just doesn’t like grown-ups.”
Over the next few days, I focused on my work: laundry, dusting, learning which cleaning products went where.
Daniel rarely spoke to me, but when he did, it was with quick, sarcastic comments that left me unsure whether to laugh or roll my eyes.
Liam, on the other hand, seemed to have charmed him completely.
They’d talk in the garden, or I’d see them at the piano in the evening, Daniel explaining chords while Liam soaked it all in.
I kept my distance, reminding myself I was here for one reason: a paycheck.
But there were moments, like when I had passed Daniel’s office and heard a soft melody coming from his guitar, that made me wonder about the man behind the sarcasm.
For someone so successful, he seemed lonely.
And I knew loneliness better than I wanted to admit.
Days at the estate settled into a rhythm I hadn’t felt in years.
I woke early, made coffee in a kitchen twice the size of my old apartment, and started my chores, polishing the grand windows, dusting shelves filled with books I wasn’t sure anyone had read, and making sure the linen smelled like spring no matter what time of year it was.
It was harder work than I expected, but there was something steadying about it.
I didn’t have to think about layoffs or unpaid bills. I just had to make things shine.
Liam thrived.
He pitched in, helping the groundskeeper move supplies or running errands for Marilyn.
In the evenings, he’d talk nonstop about Daniel, who somehow seemed to have adopted him as a sort of unofficial apprentice.
“Mom, did you know he built a whole recording studio here? It’s like legit pro-level. He said I could watch him mix a track next week.”
I tried to smile, though part of me worried.
“Just don’t bother him too much, okay?”
Liam rolled his eyes.
“He invited me, Mom.”
It was true.
Daniel had taken a liking to Liam almost immediately, offering him little tasks, fetching cables, helping tune instruments, even letting him sit in during brainstorming sessions.
Me, I mostly stayed out of Daniel’s way.
He had a reputation for mood swings, and I’d seen glimpses of them.
Days when he barely noticed me except to mutter a sarcastic remark, and other days when he’d unexpectedly soften, asking if I needed anything or if Liam was doing okay.
One afternoon, I walked past his office and heard a sound that made me pause.
Guitar strings, soft, melancholic.
I peeked in.
Daniel sat hunched over an old acoustic guitar, playing something slow and haunting, nothing like the flashy pop songs I’d seen in his videos. His head was bowed, eyes closed, as if he were somewhere far away.
When he noticed me, he stopped abruptly.
“Need something?”
I froze, embarrassed.
“No, sorry. I was just passing by.”
He nodded, face unreadable.
“Close the door on your way out.”
I did, but the sound of that song stayed with me all night.
For the first time since we’d arrived, I felt something unexpected.
Curiosity.
There was more to Daniel Hayes than the sharp-tongued boss who made me blush in our first meeting.
Beneath the polished exterior and expensive taste, there was sadness.
And if I was honest, I understood it.
After all, I’d been living with my own for years, covering it up with work and responsibility until there was nothing left of me outside being someone’s mom or someone’s employee.
Liam saw none of that.
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