Once home, I set Chloe up on the couch and asked about her brother. Her quiet reply—“Dad said not to let him out”—made my pulse race. Ignoring her father’s warning, I descended into the basement.
Instead of a grim scene, I found a magical room: pastel walls, fairy lights, and toys arranged with care. Chloe followed me, holding a photo of a boy with bright eyes. “That’s Rodger,” she said softly. “He’s in heaven now. He had cancer. Daddy made this room so I could remember him.”
Tears stung my eyes. My demanding boss had poured his grief into creating this sanctuary for his daughter. When Mr. Miles arrived, he was stern at first. But as I explained what I’d seen, his façade cracked. “It’s hard for me,” he admitted, his voice heavy with emotion.
In that moment, he wasn’t the ruthless boss I knew but a grieving father doing his best for his daughter. His vulnerability sparked a change. The next day, he handed me real work—a set of blueprints to review—and thanked me for staying.
For the first time, I saw the man behind the title, and my job finally felt meaningful.