A millionaire caught the maid with his son in the pool and was shocked. The

billionaire caught his housekeeper with his son in the pool and froze when he realized what he was seeing. Nate

stopped in the backyard when he saw Elena in the water holding Lucas tight, his 8-year-old son wearing blue arm

floaties and smiling broadly for the first time in 18 months. That embrace

was too real. He stood there completely motionless, watching Lucas laugh in that free and

genuine way that he thought had vanished along with Catherine, his late wife, over a year and a half ago. Elena held

the boy carefully as if cradling something priceless, and her gray and white uniform clung to her body in a way

that made it crystal clear none of this had been planned. Nate moved to step forward, but his foot

accidentally landed on a dry branch lying on the path. The sharp crack echoed in the afternoon silence, jarring

enough to startle all three of them. Elena whipped her head around with lightning speed, her dark brown eyes

widening in horror as she spotted her employer standing there. The smile on

her lips vanished instantly, replaced by pure and profound fear. But what hurt

Nate more than Elena’s reaction was the transformation on his son’s face. Lucas

turned, his clear blue eyes, eyes identical to Catherine’s, finding his

father standing there. And in that instant, the bright, free, and genuine

smile disappeared as if it had never existed. The joy on the boy’s face evaporated, replaced by something far

worse. Fear. Lucas’s small shoulders drew inward. His mouth fell open, but no

sound emerged, and his eyes, those eyes that had been overflowing with happiness

just moments before, were now filled with worry. Nate felt as if someone had

just punched him hard in the stomach. The air in his lungs seemed to be sucked away. He realized a brutal truth he had

tried to deny for months. His son was afraid of him. Not the kind of fear that

comes before punishment or scolding, but the kind of fear when a child no longer

knows how to approach their own father. Afraid that any moment of happiness will be shattered by his presence. Elellanena

slowly released the boy, her hands trembling as she let Lucas go. She

backed away in the water as if trying to disappear, trying to make herself smaller, more harmless. Her face went

pale, her lips quivered, and Nate could clearly see the panic in her eyes. It

was the look of someone waiting to be punished, of someone too familiar with being blamed.

Lucas swam to the metal ladder at the pool’s edge, his movements clumsy and quick. He climbed up, water streaming

from his body onto the stone patio. He stood there between his father and Elena, his small body shivering from

cold, or fear, perhaps both. The blue arm floaties still wrapped around his

thin arms, now looking ridiculous and sad on a child who was no longer laughing. The silence that enveloped the

garden was suffocatingly heavy. Nate could hear birds chirping somewhere in the distance, water dripping from Lucas

onto the ground, and his son’s quick, rapid breathing. Every sound was

amplified in this tense silence, making this moment stretch like an eternity.

He looked at his son, truly looked at him, perhaps for the first time in

months. The blue floaties wrapped around arms that were too thin. Dark brown hair

plastered to his small face, revealing gaunt features he had never noticed. Large eyes staring at him with fear and

anticipation, waiting for his reaction, waiting to know if he was in trouble.

Then he turned to look at Elena. She still stood in the water, water up to her waist, both hands gripping the pool

edge behind her as if needing something to hold on to. Her gray and white uniform clung wetly to her thin frame,

and he could see her trembling, not from cold, despite the water not being warm, but from fear. It was a primal fear, the

fear of someone who had lost everything and knew they could lose again at any moment. Nate opened his mouth to speak,

but it took several seconds before he found his voice. When the words finally escaped, they sounded colder than he

intended, sharper than he wanted. How long has this been happening?

Elena flinched as if struck. Just today, Mr. Morrison, her voice trembled, the

words rushing out as if she were trying to explain, trying to justify herself before it was too late. “Lucas came down

here and I It was too hot upstairs,” Lucas interjected, his voice so small

Nate had to strain to hear it. This was the first time the boy had spoken to him in days.

I just wanted to, but Lucas didn’t finish the sentence. His throat closed up, his lips trembled,

and then tears began rolling down his cheeks, mixing with the pool water still clinging to his small face. Nate felt a

fierce pain spreading through his chest, but he tried to keep his face emotionless.

Lucas, he said, his voice stiffer than he wanted. Go inside and change. I need

to talk to Elena for a moment. The boy looked at him, then at Elena,

his eyes desperate. And then Lucas did something he hadn’t done in months. He

begged, “Don’t fire her, Dad.” His voice choked with tears. “Please, it was my

fault. She was just Nate couldn’t speak. His throat constricted. No words could

escape. This was the first time in months, perhaps in over a year, that Lucas had actually asked him for

anything. And it was asking him not to take away the only person who seemed to understand him. When the silence

stretched on, Lucas turned and ran into the house, his small footsteps leaving a trail of water on the stone floor. His

sobbing echoed in the space and then faded as the glass door closed behind him. Nate stood there in silence for a

long while, watching the direction his son had disappeared. Then he slowly walked to the pool’s edge and sat down,

letting his feet in their expensive suit touch the cold water. He gestured for Elena to come closer with a slight nod.

Elena hesitated, her eyes looking toward the door where Lucas had just run, then back at Nate. Finally, she moved

forward, but still kept a safe distance, several steps away from him. Water from

her uniform dripped down into the water below, creating small ripples. Though

the Palo Alto afternoon was still warm, she continued trembling, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if

trying to keep warm, or perhaps trying to protect herself. “How long have you

worked here?” Nate asked, his voice trying to be gentler than before. Four

months, Mr. Morrison? Elena replied, her voice still shaking. Nate nodded,

looking down at his hands. Mrs. Chen hired you. Yes, sir. A heavy moment of