Inside a World That Was Never Built for Her
The boys stared openly as they walked up the long driveway, fountains whispering beside them, lights glowing warmly against stone that cost more than Naomi could comprehend. Inside, the kitchen alone was larger than their entire apartment, staffed by people who moved with quiet efficiency, accustomed to abundance.
Plates of food appeared without comment.
Eli and Marcus ate as if speed itself might make the meal vanish faster, and Naomi watched them until Edwin spoke again.
“Sit,” he said. “You can’t work on an empty stomach.”
She did.
She did not speak.
Afterward, he told her to return the next morning, precisely at six-thirty, and introduced her to the house manager, Mrs. Calder, whose reputation for discipline was legendary.
“Work ends when standards drop,” Mrs. Calder said flatly. “Not when you’re tired.”
Naomi nodded. “Understood.”
