“Elena,” he said softly. “Is everything all right?”
She turned abruptly, startled. A forced smile touched her lips but never reached her eyes.
“Yes, sir. Just tired.”
Michael glanced at the documents, then at her unsteady hands.
“I noticed the papers,” he said quietly. “You don’t owe me an explanation. But if you need someone to listen… I’m here.”
The silence grew heavy.
She clutched a towel as though it were the only thing anchoring her.
“I have a son,” she whispered. “Gabriel. He’s four months old.”
Michael blinked. In two years, she had never mentioned a child. And he had never asked.
“My mother is very sick,” Elena continued. “Advanced diabetes. Heart complications. She needs treatment I can’t afford.”
Her voice cracked.
“I clean four houses. I sleep maybe three hours a night. I eat once a day so there’s enough for her medication and for formula. And still… it’s not enough.”
Michael stood motionless, taking in each word.
“Gabriel’s father left when he learned I was pregnant,” she said. Her gaze dropped to the papers. “The documents…” She swallowed. “I’m signing him over for adoption on Monday.”
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