Sophie moved six inches toward the rabbit.
Nobody cheered.
Nobody rushed her.
Ethan simply placed the rabbit within reach.
Sophie took it and returned to the window.
That evening, Ethan found Elena in the kitchen packing her canvas bag.
“You’re leaving?” he asked.
“You fired me.”
His gaze dropped.
“I was angry.”
“You humiliated me in front of your family and staff.”
“I believed you were endangering Sophie.”
“You believed that before you looked at her feet.”
He had no answer.
Elena folded her notebook into the bag.
“My family depends on my income, Mr.
Blake.
I cannot work in a house where I can be dismissed every time you are frightened.”
Ethan leaned against the kitchen counter.
For once, the millionaire architect looked less powerful than the former nursing student in the inexpensive coat.
“What would make you stay?”
“Respect.”
He waited, perhaps expecting a number.
Elena continued.
“Clear authority to report what I observe.
Regular meetings with Sophie’s medical team.
No insulting my background.
No speaking about Sophie as if she is not present.”
Ethan nodded.
“And if you disagree with me,” she said, “you ask questions before you issue orders.”
“That may be difficult.”
“Then practice.”
Grace, listening from the doorway, almost smiled.
Ethan extended his hand.
“I am sorry, Miss Carter.”
Elena looked at it but did not accept immediately.
“For which part?”
He swallowed.
“For assuming poverty meant ignorance.
For treating your unfinished degree as proof that you knew nothing.
For humiliating you.
And for being so determined to prevent another loss that I stopped seeing what Sophie needed.”
Elena shook his hand.
“I will stay through the medical evaluation,” she said.
“After that, we decide whether this can work.”
The next months did not bring a miracle.
They brought work.
Some mornings, Sophie pressed both feet into the floor.
On others, she refused to leave the window.
She cried during her first session with the new physical therapist, and Ethan nearly ended it.
Elena reminded him that crying did not always mean harm.
Sometimes it meant frustration, memory, or the terror of trying.
The therapist lowered the demands.
The trauma specialist taught the adults to name each action before touching Sophie.
Nobody lifted her without warning.
Nobody celebrated so loudly that progress became frightening.
