Chapter 36

The old woman flinched, whirling around. When she saw it was Latisha, she visibly relaxed and brought out a half-eaten piece of bread she'd been hiding, taking a bite in front of her.

Latisha stared at her, then reached out and took the woman's hand, shaking her head to signal that she shouldn't eat it.

"You want some?" the woman asked, eyeing Latisha's expensive clothes.

Latisha set the cake box on the ground and signed: *Mrs. Dashiell, don't you remember me? It's Latisha.*

The old woman stared at Latisha's fingers, which seemed to dance like butterflies in the faint glow of the streetlight. After a long moment, she looked up at Latisha's face, her voice trembling. "... Latisha?"

Tears welled in Latisha's eyes as she nodded. *It's me. What are you doing here?*

"You're all grown up."

Mrs. Dashiell let out a weary sigh and used a nearby cane to help herself to a seat on a stone step. Latisha sat down beside her.

Mrs. Dashiell had been a housekeeper for the Lamberts, a close attendant to Darby. When Latisha first came to the estate, it was Mrs. Dashiell who had cared for her. She had been forced into early retirement after breaking her leg in a fall down the stairs while trying to save Renata. Latisha had always assumed she'd returned to her hometown. She never imagined she would find her like this.

She offered the cake to the old woman. *Mrs. Dashiell, today is my birthday. Will you celebrate with me?*

Mrs. Dashiell's wrinkled face broke into a kind smile. "It's your birthday? Happy birthday, Latisha. I'm so sorry, dear, I don't have anything to give you."

Latisha shook her head. Everyone was wishing her a happy birthday, but she didn't feel happy at all.

She sat quietly beside the old woman, watching as she devoured the cake. Latisha wanted to buy her a bottle of water, but then she remembered her cards were frozen. She had just fifteen dollars left in her wallet.

She returned with the water and asked Mrs. Dashiell what had happened.

The story was heartbreaking. After a lifetime of service to the Lamberts, her son and daughter-in-law had taken all her retirement savings to buy a apartment in the city. While Darby was alive, the Lamberts had sent her a monthly stipend, and she had lived comfortably. But after Darby passed away, the payments. stopped, and her daughter-in-law threw her out. With a lame leg, she couldn't find work and was forced to scavenge to survive.

Latisha looked at the woman's worn-out state, her heart aching. Mrs. Dashiell had dedicated her life. to the Lambert family only to be left struggling for her next meal. It was a terrible tragedy.

After Mrs. Dashiell finished the cake, Latisha offered to walk her home.

"What about you?" Mrs. Dashiell asked worriedly. "It's so late. Won't the young master be worried?"

Latisha looked down. He couldn't even keep his promise to celebrate her birthday. Why would he be worried?

Sensing her sadness, Mrs. Dashiell didn't press the issue. She leaned on her cane and stood up. "Alright, then. Just don't be shocked by where your old nanny lives."

...

Meanwhile, Clifford took Yesenia home and settled her on the sofa. He was about to leave when she grabbed his arm. "Can't you stay? I'm in so much pain."

Her knee and forehead were

wrapped in bandages. She had been

pestering him at the office,

demanding he take her to dinner When he refused, she had stormed off and run into the street, where she

was nearly hit by a car. The memory

still made her tremble.

"Wilma, take care of her," Clifford instructed the housekeeper. To Yesenia, he said,

"Rest here for a few days. I'll come see you tomorrow."

"Where are you going so late?"

Clifford glanced at his watch. It was 12:30 AM.

He froze.