Naomi cleaned it at once. In her haste, she bumped a perfume bottle but caught it before it fell. Rose slapped her anyway.

“You’re clumsy.”

Naomi’s eyes burned, but she bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Ma.”

Unseen, Mr. Femi Richards, the billionaire himself, watched quietly from the hallway. His gray eyes softened at Naomi’s endurance, but he said nothing.

Naomi had made her vow: she would not run. Not while Deborah needed her.

By the third day, the staff watched Naomi with curiosity. She hadn’t cried, hadn’t raised her voice, hadn’t left. She worked silently, steady as a river.