I paid three months of overdue rent.
Then Christopher did something unexpected.
He asked about my children.
“What are their names?”
We were in the library.
I was organizing his medication.
“Brandon and Emma.”
“How old?”
“Eight and five.”
“Father?”
I stiffened.
“Gone.”
“Dead?”
“No.”
Christopher glanced at me.
“He left when Emma was two.”
“Why?”
“Because responsibility bored him.”
Christopher looked almost offended.
“His loss.”
“Yes.”
For several seconds, silence settled between us.
Then he asked, “Brandon likes baseball?”
I stared at him.
“How do you know that?”
“You mentioned buying him a glove yesterday.”
I relaxed slightly.
“Yeah. He loves the Cubs.”
Christopher smiled.
“Poor kid.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
It surprised us both.
That was the first crack in the wall.
Days became weeks.
I still distrusted him.
But I also began seeing the person beneath the billionaire.
