“Anna, ma’am.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“Three years.”
Margaret stepped closer slowly.
“And you attacked security over this?”
Anna swallowed hard.
“He was hurting him.”
Margaret looked at the beggar with visible disgust.
“That creature?”
The beggar stayed silent.
Testing.
Watching.
Anna quietly stepped in front of him again.
And that single movement changed everything.
Because Margaret Kingston suddenly recognized it.
That instinct.
That reflex to protect others before herself.
It was exactly like someone else she once knew.
Someone long buried.
Margaret’s eyes sharpened.
“What village are you from?” she asked suddenly.
Anna looked confused.
“Rivera.”
Margaret froze.
The color drained slightly from her face.
Rivera.
The same village where, thirty-two years earlier, a poor housekeeper had vanished after secretly giving birth to a child connected to the Kingston family.
Margaret stared harder at Anna now.
At her eyes.
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