Chapter 5 - What Nicholas Grimaldiro Didn't Know
Christmas morning arrived beneath three feet of snow.
I woke in one of the guest rooms.
For several seconds, I forgot where I was.
Then I saw my uniform hanging near the fireplace.
Clean.
Dry.
Beside it was a new winter coat.
I touched the sleeve.
A note was attached.
This is not charity. It is basic winter clothing. — N.G.
I smiled despite myself.
Downstairs, the mansion felt different without Richard.
Less controlled.
More human.
Mrs. Alvarez was arguing with Marco about cinnamon rolls.
Two guards were helping move presents.
Nicholas sat at the dining table reading documents.
He looked up.
“How are you feeling?”
“Embarrassed.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone saw you carrying me.”
“I survived.”
“I meant me.”
“So did I.”
I sat across from him.
“Thank you for the coat.”
“You needed one.”
“I had one.”
“In the basement.”
His expression hardened slightly.
“I know.”
Marco entered.
“We finished the payroll review.”
Nicholas set down his coffee.
“How bad?”
“Worse than expected.”
Over five years, Richard had skimmed money from nearly every lower-paid employee.
Some had been charged for imaginary damages.
Others had lost overtime.
Former employees had been denied final wages.
Nicholas listened without interruption.
Then he said, “Pay everyone.”
Marco nodded.
“Full amount?”
“Full amount plus interest.”
“That's going to be substantial.”
“Did I ask?”
“No.”
“Today.”
Marco left.
I stared at Nicholas.
“You don't have to do that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Richard stole it.”
“In my house.”
“You didn't know.”
“That doesn't change whose name is on the gate.”
That answer stayed with me.
Nicholas pushed my notebook across the table.
“You should consider accounting.”
I laughed.
“I'm a maid.”
“Currently.”
“I barely finished high school.”
“Currently.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Do you answer everything like that?”
“When possible.”
Then his expression became serious.
“I spoke with my attorney.”
My stomach tightened.
“About me?”
“About everyone.”
He placed an envelope on the table.
Inside was a check.
I stared at the number.
“This can't be right.”
“It is.”
“That's too much.”
“It includes unpaid overtime, compensation for the hours Richard falsified, and a Christmas bonus.”
I pushed it back.
“I don't want money because you feel guilty.”
His eyes met mine.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Because I'm not giving it to you out of guilt.”
He pushed it back.
“It's yours.”
I slowly picked it up.
Then he placed another paper beside it.
“What is this?”
“An offer.”
I read it.
Tuition assistance.
Community college.
Business administration.
Flexible work hours at the mansion while I studied.
I looked up.
“Why?”
“Because you documented discrepancies more effectively with a three-dollar notebook than the professionals I paid to monitor my household accounts.”
“That sounds like an insult to them.”
“It is.”
I laughed.
Then stopped.
“You're serious.”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Grimaldiro—”
“Nicholas.”
“I can't call you Nicholas.”
“You did last night.”
“I was freezing.”
“Then imagine it's cold.”
I shook my head.
“I don't know if I can do college.”
“That's different from not wanting to.”
I looked at the paper again.
“What if I fail?”
“Then you fail a class.”
He shrugged.
“The planet continues rotating.”
I smiled.
He leaned back.
“Richard spent months convincing you every mistake proved you didn't belong here.”
My smile disappeared.
Nicholas tapped the application.
“Stop letting him speak after he's gone.”
That was the closest either of us came to discussing feelings.
It was enough.
May you like
I signed.
---
