The silence on the terrace was heavier than the humid August air blowing off the harbor. Miles Langley stopped two feet from his wife, his cream linen blazer shifting as his chest heaved.

The service wing of the Langley house was quiet, insulated from the ocean breeze by heavy oak doors and thick drywall. Rosa guided Juliet into the small sitting room off the kitchen—a space usually reserved for staff breaks—and wrapped a dry wool blanket around her shoulders.

"Drink this," Rosa said, handing her a mug of warm chamomile tea she had brewed three minutes earlier.

Juliet’s hands were shaking so hard the china clicked against her teeth. "Thank you, Rosa. I'm... I'm so sorry. I ruined your job. I ruined everything."

"You didn't ruin anything, m ijita," Rosa said softly, pulling a chair close. "That family was ruined long before you walked through the front door."

The door swung open, and Miles walked in. He had taken off his linen jacket, rolling up his sleeves, looking flushed and agitated. "Juliet, thank God. Are you okay? Is the baby moving?"

"The baby is fine, Miles," Juliet said, her tone flat and distant. "No thanks to your family."

"Look, Aunt Constance was out of line," Miles said, pacing the small room. "She’s under a lot of stress with the estate restructuring. But Rosa... Rosa, why did you escalate it like that in front of everyone? You know how Constance gets when she feels publicly challenged. She’s already talking to the house manager about your severance."

Rosa stood up slowly. "Mr. Miles, your aunt laid hands on your pregnant wife. If I had not stepped between them, Mrs. Juliet and your child would be at the bottom of the pool."

"She wouldn't have pushed her in!" Miles argued, though his eyes darted away, unable to hold Rosa's steady gaze. "She was just angry! Juliet, you have to understand the political reality here. If we alienate Constance before the vote on Tuesday, she can freeze my grandfather’s trust. We lose the house. We lose the business backing."

Juliet looked at her husband as if she were seeing him through a thick sheet of ice. "You're asking me to apologize to her, aren't you?"

"I'm asking you to be practical!" Miles exclaimed. "We have a child coming! We need the estate!"

"Then you can have it," Juliet said quietly. She stood up, letting the wool blanket drop to the chair. "Without me."

Miles froze. "What?"

"I’m going home, Miles. To Ohio."

"Juliet, don't be ridiculous. You're seven months pregnant. You can't drive to Ohio!"

"She doesn't have to drive," Rosa said, reaching into her apron pocket and pulling out a heavy brass key. "She can stay with me tonight. My home isn't a palace, Mr. Miles, but nobody gets pushed into pools there."

Miles’s face flushed dark red. "Rosa, stay out of this! This is a family matter!"

"Rosa is the only person in this house who acted like a human being today," Juliet said fiercely. She turned to Rosa. "Can you help me get my bags from the guest cottage?"

"Of course," Rosa said.

As Juliet stepped out of the room toward the rear entrance, Rosa turned to gather her personal belongings from her locker. Miles blocked her path, his jaw tight.

"You think you're doing her a favor, Rosa?" Miles hissed under his breath. "You're filling her head with grand ideas. She has no money. Her parents are retired teachers living on a fixed pension. Without my family, she has nothing. And without this job, you have nothing."

Rosa unlocked her locker, pulled out her canvas tote bag, and looked Miles dead in the eye. "A man who lets his family hurt his wife is the one who has nothing, Mr. Miles. I learned that from my own father thirty years ago."

She reached into the back of her locker, pulling out a thick, faded yellow manila envelope that had sat beneath her extra shoes for six months—a collection of discarded paperwork, estate logs, and misfiled receipts she had picked up while cleaning the study over the last decade. She tucked it deep into her canvas bag.

"What's that?" Miles demanded, frowning at the envelope.