The mansion was big, but for Adam, it felt like a cage. Six years old, blonde hair, pale skin, his body fragile. He sat in silence most days, watching the world through windows. His crutches leaned in the corner, reminders of what he couldn’t do.
Doctors had come, spoken quickly, and left behind words like chains: He may never walk properly. It could be neurological, developmental, autism, motor delays. His father had spent fortunes, but each verdict was the same—Adam would live with limits.
So Adam was left alone in hallways of marble, his father gone at work, his mother long gone with another man. Loneliness became his closest friend.
Then she came. Her name was Clara—the new maid. Black, mid-30s, quiet at first in her pressed uniform and white apron. To Adam, she was just another adult who would come and go. But Clara didn’t rush. She noticed things—the way he avoided eye contact, the way his…..Read Full Story Here…………………
