Chapter 6 - The Maid’s Courage
While the mansion descended into swift, disciplined retribution, Ruth remained in Norah’s bedroom.
The girl had finally fallen asleep, her breathing stabilized by an antidote administered by Dr. Alistair. Her small, pale hand was still tangled in Ruth’s apron strings, holding on even in her dreams as if terrified that waking up would plunge her back into the nightmare.
The door opened quietly. Wesley entered alone.
The aura of terrifying violence that usually surrounded him seemed to soften the moment he stepped over the threshold. He looked older, the lines around his eyes carved deep by exhaustion and remorse. He pulled a wooden chair close to the bedside and sat down, staring at his sleeping sister.
For ten minutes, there was only the sound of rain tapping against the glass.
"She wanted to tell me," Wesley whispered, breaking the silence without looking up. "Last week, she pulled my sleeve. She pointed at the door. And I told her to rest. I told her I had business at the docks. I thought she was just tired."
Ruth did not speak immediately. She straightened the blanket over Norah’s shoulders before replying in a gentle, measured voice. "People who have voices often assume that those who don't have nothing to say, Mr. Cain. Miss Norah was screaming every single day. You were simply listening with your ears instead of your eyes."
Wesley’s shoulders tightened at the reprimand. Any other person who dared speak to him with such candor would have been buried in the harbor mud before sunrise. But Wesley merely bowed his head, letting the truth cut into him.
"You took a grave risk tonight, Ruth," Wesley said, turning his slate-gray eyes upon her. "If Celeste had realized what you were doing, she had guards of her own in this house. You could have been killed before I reached the gates."
"I am a nurse, Mr. Cain," Ruth replied simply, meeting his gaze without flinching. "I took an oath to protect the sick. And more than that... I know what it feels like to be completely helpless in a room full of powerful people who do not care whether you live or die. I could not walk away from her."
Wesley studied her face. He saw no greed, no ambition, no desire for reward—only an unbending moral core that was rarer in his world than gold.
"Your mother was Clara Delaney," Wesley noted quietly. "She died at Saint Jude’s Hospital two years ago of respiratory failure. You left your nursing residency to pay her medical bills, leaving you with forty thousand dollars of debt to the municipal loan sharks."
Ruth stiffened, her defenses rising. "You had me investigated?"
"I investigate everyone who sleeps under my roof," Wesley replied. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a thick document sealed with a red wax stamp, and laid it gently on the nightstand beside the medicine bottles. "The debt was cleared three hours ago. The deed to your mother’s former cottage in the valley is now in your name. And starting tonight, you are no longer a maid in this house."
Ruth looked at the document, then back at Wesley, her throat tightening. "Mr. Cain, I didn't save Norah for money."
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"I know," Wesley said, standing up. "If you had done it for money, I would have paid you and sent you away. But Norah needs more than a nurse, and I need someone in this house whose soul cannot be bought. From tomorrow, you are Norah’s personal guardian and director of this household. You answer only to me."
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