He looked up at his mother-in-law.
“I want to save my grandson. You work fourteen hours a day.”
“The child is left to his own devices with this… girl. He needs professional help, stability, he needs…”
“A prison?” Vera blurted out.
Eleanor turned to her with an icy stare.
“The right environment. I am prepared to take Michael to Boston. I have connections at the best rehabilitation centers. He will get everything he needs.”
“He’ll get a gilded cage,” Vera said. “You want to do to him what David was doing for three years? Turn him into a perfect, manageable disabled person who doesn’t cause any problems? How dare you?”
“I dare because I see a child, while you see a diagnosis.”
“Vera…” David touched her arm. “Wait.”
He looked at Eleanor.
“Do you really think I’m a bad father?”
His mother-in-law paused. Then she sighed.
“I think you’re a lost father. After Kate died, you shut down. You escaped into your work. Michael became a problem for you to solve, not a son to love.”
The words hit their mark. David felt something tighten in his chest.
“I love him.”
“Love isn’t money in a bank account or expensive specialists. Love is time. Attention. Presence. And you are absent.”
“I’m changing,” David said quietly. “In the last three weeks…”
Eleanor gave a skeptical snort. “David, you’re a businessman. You’re used to results, plans, control. But children aren’t a project. They’re chaos. They’re unpredictable. They’re something you don’t know how to handle.”
She stood up, adjusting her purse on her shoulder.
“You have two weeks. If I don’t see real changes in that time—systematic lessons, developmental progress, a professional approach—I will file for custody. I have the connections. I have the grounds. I have the proof.”
David stood up.
“You don’t have the right.”
“I do. As the child’s grandmother. As the mother of your late wife. As someone acting in Michael’s best interests.” She walked to the door. At the threshold, she turned back. “And one more thing, David. Fire this girl. Immediately. She is not a professional. She is a danger to the child.”
The door closed behind her.
David stood in the middle of the living room, clutching the folder of reports so tightly the paper crumpled. Vera came over and gently touched his shoulder.
“Mr. Solomon…”
“You’re fired.”
He said it automatically, without looking at her. Vera froze.
“What?”
“You heard me. You’re fired. Pack your things and leave.”
He turned and looked her in the eye. His gaze was filled with pain, fear, and something else. A plea. A plea for understanding.
“I can’t risk my son.”
“You’re risking him by firing me,” Vera said quietly. “Michael was just starting to come alive.”
“And I’m about to lose him for good!” David raised his voice. “Don’t you understand? She’ll take me to court. She has connections, money, expert opinions. She’ll take Michael, and I’ll never see him again.”
“Then fight. Prove you’re a good father.”
“How? By showing that I hire ‘unprofessionals’ who teach my son to play in the mud?”
The words hung in the air. Vera went pale, as if he had slapped her.
“Is that what you really think?” she asked softly.
David turned away.
“I think you’re a good person. But that’s not enough. I need guarantees. Documents. Results. And all you have is…”
“Love. Just love,” Vera finished for him. “Do you hear what you’re saying? ‘Just love.’ As if that’s not enough.”
She picked up her bag.
“I’ll leave, because I don’t want to be the cause of your pain. But you should know, you’re making a mistake. The same one you’ve been making for three years. You’re choosing fear over life.”
Vera headed for the door. She stopped by Michael’s room. He was standing there, a toy in his hands.
He had seen everything. He hadn’t heard the words, but he’d seen the faces. The gestures. He saw Vera leaving. The boy dropped his toy. He ran to her, wrapping his arms around her legs.
“Don’t go,” he signed desperately. “Please don’t go, Vera.”
She knelt and hugged him. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I have to.”
“Why?”
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