“My mommy says people feel less sad when they don’t eat alone.”
Maria’s eyes widened.
“Sofia.”
“What?”
“Upstairs.”
The little girl v@nished into the hallway.
Her footsteps gradually faded.
Then only the rain remained.
Maria stayed in the doorway.
I stayed on the sofa.
The envelope filled with money remained untouched on the table between us.
So did my wallet. So did my phone.
Suddenly, the entire test felt ridiculous.
Small.
I had arranged those objects like bait because I couldn’t imagine anyone entering my home without wanting something from me.
Maria glanced at the money.
Then at me.
“You were testing me.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
Her jaw tightened.
“Why?”
“Because I test everyone.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“It answers enough of it.”
“No, Daniel.”
There it was again.
My name.
The second time somehow sounded more dangerous than the first.
I stood.
Maria stepped backward before stopping herself.
I noticed.
So did she.
I hated that she had moved.
Not because I wanted her closer.
Because some part of me had hoped she wouldn’t fear me.
“You knew Sofia’s father would matter to me,” I said.
Maria remained silent.
“You heard what she said.”
“Yes.”
“Who was he?”
She glanced toward the hallway.
“My husband.”
“I gathered that.”
“He d!ed three years ago.”
“How?”
“An acc!dent.”
“What kind?”
Maria’s eyes sharpened.
“You hired me to manage your household.”
