Elena was a quiet woman, the kind of person who blended into the background of the massive estate she cleaned every day. But the moment nine-year-old Arthur pointed a steady finger at her, ignoring five glamorous women in the room, and said, “I want her to be my mom,” she realized a profound truth. Sometimes, a child’s heart sees what adults, blinded by status and sparkle, completely miss.
“Arthur, get over here right now!” Andrew Miller’s voice was firm. As the owner of a major construction firm, he wasn’t used to waiting. He stood in the paved courtyard of his suburban estate, his patience wearing thin. It had been two years since his wife, Sarah, passed away. Andrew, a man of action, decided that today was the day he would find a mother for his son and a partner for himself.
Arthur was sitting by the edge of the pool, methodically stacking smooth river stones. It was his way of disappearing, of becoming invisible to a world that felt too loud since his mother died. He had become a shadow in his own home, wandering the large rooms with a quiet, heavy grief.
“What is it, Dad?” the boy asked softly. “Sit down, we need to talk,” Andrew replied. Arthur approached slowly, his green eyes—so much like Sarah’s—making Andrew’s chest tighten. He pushed the memory aside; he believed in moving forward, not dwelling on the past.
“Son, you know I love you, right?” Andrew began. Arthur nodded, looking at the ground. He rarely smiled these days. “Your mom would want us to be happy, even if she can’t be here. That’s why I’ve made a decision. You’re going to have a new mother.”
Arthur froze. “What do you mean?” his voice cracked. “I’ve invited five wonderful women over today. You’ll meet each of them, and you can tell me which one you’d like to have in our family.” The boy’s face went pale.
“Today?” he whispered. “Yes, they’re on their way,” Andrew confirmed. Arthur stood up abruptly, his stones scattering across the patio. “I don’t want to meet anyone!”
“You’re just nervous,” Andrew insisted. “These are successful, well-educated women. One of them will take great care of you, and we’ll be a real family again.” Arthur’s jaw set. “I don’t need a stranger taking care of me.”
Andrew felt a flicker of irritation. In his business, when he gave an order, people followed it. He expected the same at home. “Arthur, stop being difficult. You haven’t even seen them yet.”
“I don’t want to see them! I don’t want a ‘new’ mom!” the boy shouted. “It’s not just about what you want, Arthur. This house needs a woman’s touch, and you need a mother figure,” Andrew said sternly.
“I already had a mom!” Arthur yelled, his voice raw. “She died! Did you forget that? Or did you just hit the delete button on her?” The words stung Andrew like a physical blow.
“Of course I haven’t forgotten her. Но life goes on, Arthur. It doesn’t stop.” “Maybe for you it does,” the boy shot back, “but for me, it stopped the day she left!” He turned and bolted toward the back of the property, toward the old oak trees.
Andrew caught him by the arm. “You’re staying right here. You’re going to be polite and meet these guests.” “Let me go!” Arthur struggled against his father’s grip. “You can’t make me!”
“I’m your father, and I know what’s best for you,” Andrew replied. “A real dad wouldn’t force his son to pick out a fake mom!” Arthur cried. He wrenched his arm free and disappeared into the thicket of the garden just as the first luxury SUV pulled into the driveway.
Elena was wiping down the French doors in the living room when the parade of high-end cars began. A black BMW, a white Mercedes, a silver Audi—it looked like a dealership showroom. Gail, the head housekeeper, hurried into the room, looking frazzled.
“Elena! Andrew gave strict orders. You stay in the service wing today. Do not—I repeat, do not—show your face in the main house while the guests are here.”
“What’s going on, Gail? Who are all these people?” Elena asked. Gail leaned in and whispered, “Mr. Miller brought in a bunch of socialites for Arthur to ‘interview.’ He’s looking for a wife.” Elena felt a pang of sympathy for the boy.
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