Michael gently took the laundry basket from her hands.
"Who did this?"
Margaret shook her head.
"It's alright."
"It isn't worth arguing about."
Michael knelt beside her.
"Please tell me."
After a long silence, she whispered the words she had been too ashamed to say.
"Vanessa said..."
"...servants belong downstairs."
Michael's heart sank.
His own mother.
The woman who had sacrificed everything for him.
Had been treated like hired help inside the home she helped build.
Margaret quickly wiped away her tears.
"I didn't want you worrying while you were traveling."
"So I stayed quiet."
Michael hugged her tightly.
"You should never have had to."
Without another word, he walked upstairs carrying the laundry basket in one hand.
Every servant in the mansion quietly watched him pass.
Vanessa stood in the grand foyer wearing an elegant black designer dress.
She looked surprised.
"Oh..."
"You're home early."
Michael placed the basket on the marble floor.
His voice was calm.
"Why is my mother living in the basement?"
Vanessa folded her arms.
"It's my house."
"My rules."
The servants lowered their heads.
No one dared speak.
Michael stared at the woman he had promised to love.
For the first time...
He realized he barely recognized her.