Michael stood with Anya near the garden gate, the late morning sun catching faint silver in her hair.
"I should go," he said.
She had known it was coming.
"Yes," she replied calmly. "You have work waiting."
He hesitated, then asked what he had asked her before, but more directly this time.
"Are you certain you don't need anything? Repairs? Extra staff?"
"I have what I need," she said. "This house is warm. The roof does not leak. The children are fed. If I require something, I will tell you. You do not need to solve problems I do not have."
He studied her for a moment, then nodded.
"If anything changes," he said, "you'll let me know."
He leaned down and kissed her cheek — a simple, unceremonious gesture. She squeezed his arm once in return.
"Do not let your mother exhaust you," she added.
He gave the faintest hint of a smile.
"I won't."
He walked to the car without looking back this time. If he did, he might have stayed longer than intended.
***
The drive back to the estate was quiet. The road cut through open stretches of land before narrowing into the long private approach lined with tall trees.
As the car rolled to a stop before the main entrance, Michael stepped out and immediately noticed James waiting near the steps which meant that Rosa was already inside.
Michael shut the car door and ascended the steps.
"Sir," James greeted.
"James."
They entered the house together.
"Miss Lila returned home last night," James began. "Your driver saw to it."
"Well done."
"I arrived with Miss Sheridan approximately an hour ago."
Michael absorbed that without visible reaction.
"And Percy?" he asked.
James had a momentary shift in expression before he said, "Percy reports that Mrs. Mansfield has asked the young lady in question to remain at the Mansfield residence for now. He saw her talk about it herself to Miss Turnpike while on an errand to the chef."
Michael paused for half a second as they reached the central hall.
"So she's still there."
"Yes, sir."
He considered it.
"Alright," he said at last. "Send Rosa to the study."
"Yes, sir."
Michael turned down the corridor toward his study without waiting.
***
The study was cool and quiet, filtered light slipping through tall windows. It was one of the few rooms in the house that felt entirely his — not inherited, not curated by someone else's taste.
He removed his coat and hung it neatly on the stand near the door.
On the desk lay the morning newspaper, folded.
He picked it up and took a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of his study desk.
Michael opened the paper and began scanning the headlines.
A labor strike in the northern provinces. A merger speculation involving one of his competitors.
His eyes moved over the print easily, but his mind was elsewhere.
Footsteps approached in the corridor.
A light knock followed.
"Come in," he said.
The door opened.
Rosa entered.
She looked nervous, the sharpness she had carried at the banquet was muted.
She closed the door behind her and stood near it.
"Good morning, Dantes."
He lowered the newspaper.
"Good morning."
Silence hung for a moment.
"What were you doing at my mother's house?" he asked evenly.
"I needed the money," she said.
He folded the newspaper carefully and set it on the side table.
"Was what I paid you insufficient?"
"No," she said. "It wasn't."
"Then explain what happened."
"My father had accumulated debt from gambling over several years. I used that money to pay it all off."
"How much did Monica pay you?"
Rosa named a figure.
It was not small.
"And what did she want in return?"
Rosa's mouth tightened slightly.
"She wanted assurance that I would not… linger around you anymore. Not in any capacity she did not approve of."
Michael let that sit.
"She wanted me positioned at her house," Rosa added. "Where she could monitor me."
"And yesterday?"
"She asked me to be present. In case you needed guidance. She didn't trust the other servants enough for that."
Michael studied her quietly.
"Why did you never tell me about your father?"
"Because it didn't matter," she said at last. "You were already paying me well. I wasn't your responsibility beyond what was agreed."
"You decided that for me."
"I assumed," she corrected, "that you wouldn't care."
He regarded her for a moment.
"You thought I wouldn't care."
She gave a small shrug.
"You don't involve yourself in personal entanglements," she said. "That was the understanding."
He did not immediately refute it.
There was some truth there.
"You could have told me," he said finally.
He considered her — the normal posture, the lack of defiance. She wasn't performing now, neither by seducing, nor strategizing.
"Sit down," he said.
She blinked once, surprised by the shift.
Then she crossed the room and sat in the chair opposite his.
The room felt smaller with her seated.
Instead, he asked, "Is the debt entirely cleared?"
"Yes, all of it. I had just about finished doing so before your mother approached me."
For a moment neither of them spoke.
He set the newspaper aside.
"There is something we are going to do," he said.
Rosa looked up.
Michael stood up and walked around the desk slowly, then stopped, leaning one hand against its edge.
"I will arrange for you to be legally emancipated from your father."
The words seemed to take a moment to register.
"What?"
"So that his debts no longer follow you," Michael said plainly. "Whatever he owes will remain his responsibility. Not yours."
Rosa stared at him, her expression caught somewhere between surprise and alarm.
"That isn't simple," she said carefully. "He's still my father."
"Yes."
"And people would say I abandoned him."
Michael gave a shrug.
"People say many things."
She looked down at her hands, which were folded together in her lap. Her fingers twisted slightly against each other.
"My father wasn't always like this," she said quietly.
Michael did not interrupt.
Rosa continued after a moment.
"I keep thinking he'll stop. That if I just pay off the last of it… then it will finally be done."
"You already know that will not happen."
Her lips pressed together.
"He will accumulate more debt," Michael said evenly. "And then more after that. You will spend the rest of your life paying for a hole that has no bottom."
"It's still difficult," she admitted.
"I know."
His voice softened slightly.
"But if you remain tied to him, he will only pull you down again."
The room was quiet.
When she lifted her head again, some of the resistance in her expression had faded.
"…Alright," she said.
Michael nodded once.
"Good."
He moved behind the desk again and opened a drawer, pulling out a checkbook and a pen.
"There is another matter."
Rosa looked up again.
"My mother will not forget you easily," he said.
That, at least, was obvious.
"So you will not remain here."
Rosa tilted her head slightly.
"What exactly are you suggesting?"
He began writing.
"I am sending you somewhere she does not know."
The scratch of the pen moved steadily across the paper.
"Greece."
Rosa blinked again.
"Greece?"
"Yes."
Michael finished writing and tore the check neatly from the book before setting the pen aside.
"You will travel there within the week. I will send someone with you who will remain with you for a few months to ensure you settle there properly."
She was still processing the idea.
"You're relocating me."
"It's for the best, unless you would like to stay and face Monica yourself," he corrected.
He slid the check across the desk toward her.
"This will cover travel expenses and your first months there."
Rosa picked it up.
Her eyes widened slightly at the number.
He paused to study her reaction.
"Once you arrive, another account will be opened for you."
Rosa looked up.
"At the Thompson & French Banking House in Athens. I will deposit the rest of what I will give you there."
"One of my associates manages the branch there," Michael continued.
Rosa stared at the check again.
"You're setting me up with a bank account."
"Yes."
She laughed quietly in disbelief.
"You do realize this is a very dramatic solution."
Michael gave the faintest hint of a smile.
"It's obvious by this point that Monica is on the crazy side of things."
That, at least, Rosa could not argue with.
"I really… don't know what to say."
"You do not need to say anything."
But she did.
"Thank you."
The words came out more sincerely than she expected.
Michael smiled at her.
"You were honest today," he said. "That is sufficient."
Rosa stood up. She was beginning to feel emotional.
She picked up the check again and folded it carefully into her bag.
"I'll be leaving tonight," she said.
For a moment she hesitated, as if considering something else to say.
But she seemed to decide against it.
"Goodbye, Michael."
He nodded once.
"Goodbye."
She turned and walked toward the door, her steps quiet against the polished floor.
The door opened, then closed.
And the study fell silent again.