Grace froze, her blood running cold. A flash of pure, unadulterated pain crossed his eyes, and in that single instant, she understood. He wasn’t just afraid of hospitals; he was utterly terrified of them. That night, she couldn’t sleep a wink. The image of that dark, glistening object deep inside his ear haunted her. What if it was something serious? A terrifying thought took root: What if that was the reason he could never hear? She thought about telling the butler, but she knew how the mansion operated. Without Mr. Thompson’s explicit approval, no one would listen. And Mr. Thompson himself barely acknowledged her existence.
The next day, her sense of unease only grew. Ethan kept pawing at his ear, wincing in clear pain. Grace followed him into his playroom, her own heart thumping with a heavy, anxious beat. She was completely at a loss for what to do, but she knew with certainty that she couldn’t just ignore it any longer. “Lord, please guide me,” she whispered to herself. Just then, Ethan winced again, a sharp, painful movement, and his eyes filled with tears. In that moment, Grace made a decision—a choice that would irrevocably change all of their lives.
She reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out the small silver pin she always used to keep her collar straight. Kneeling beside the boy, she said in a low, quiet voice, “It’s okay, Ethan. I’ll help you.” And at that precise, fateful moment, just as her trembling hand began to move the pin closer to his ear, the playroom door creaked open behind her. Someone was watching.
The sound of the creaking hinge made Grace freeze solid. She turned her head slowly and saw Mr. Caleb Thompson himself standing in the doorway. His suit, as always, was immaculate. His expression was calm but carried a sharp edge, the look of a man who was accustomed to immediate obedience. “What,” he asked, his voice low but heavy with authority, “are you doing?”
Grace scrambled to her feet, quickly hiding the small silver pin behind her back. “Sir, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “He was in pain. I… I was just trying to help him.” Caleb’s gaze flickered from her to his son. Ethan was still sitting on the floor, holding the side of his head and blinking. He wasn’t crying, but his face was scrunched in obvious discomfort.
“You are not a doctor,” Caleb stated, his voice firm and cold. “If there is something wrong with my son, your job is to call me. You do not touch him.” Grace lowered her head in submission. “Yes, sir. I understand.” He let out a long, deep sigh, dragging a hand across his weary face. “I’ve had too many so-called experts promise to help him. Every single one of them failed. I simply cannot take any more chances.” His voice cracked, just slightly, on the last word, but he immediately composed himself, straightening his suit jacket. “You can go now,” he added dismissively.
Grace nodded, biting her lip to hold back the tears that were stinging her eyes. She desperately wanted to speak up, to tell him what she thought she had seen, but his cold, final tone warned her not to. She turned and walked out of the room quietly, her steps feeling slow and heavy. Once she was in the hallway, she leaned her back against the cool wall and whispered to the empty air, “He has no idea how much that poor boy is suffering.”
The hours ticked by. The mansion settled back into its familiar, quiet rhythm. Other maids polished already gleaming furniture, the cook began preparations for dinner, and the security guards stood outside the main gates like stone statues. But inside Grace’s heart, the silence was deafening. She couldn’t get Ethan out of her mind. She kept seeing the way he winced and touched his ear, the image of that dark, glistening something, and the raw terror in his eyes when he signed, “No doctors.”
That night, Grace returned to her small, plain room tucked away behind the laundry area. She sat on the edge of her narrow bed. Her well-worn Bible lay open on her nightstand, but she wasn’t reading it. She just stared blankly at the pages and whispered, “Lord, what am I supposed to do?” The old clock in the hall ticked slowly, marking the time. Her thoughts drifted back to her brother, Daniel. The memory of his last day flooded her senses—the way he had looked at her, his eyes desperate, trying to form a word he could no longer hear. She had made a promise to herself, to him, that she would never again stand by and simply watch another child suffer in silence.
Grace stood up abruptly. Sleep was impossible. She padded back through the long, empty hallway, her bare feet silent on the cold marble floors. The grand lights were all dimmed, the house was deep in sleep. The only sound was the faint, steady hum of the central air conditioning. She paused when she reached Ethan’s room. The door was cracked open just a few inches. A small night lamp cast a soft glow inside. Ethan was awake. He was sitting straight up in his bed, both hands pressed hard against the side of his head.
Grace pushed the door open and walked in slowly. “It’s hurting again, isn’t it?” she signed, her voice a gentle sigh. He nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. Grace’s heart physically ached for him. She knelt beside his bed and looked closer. “Let me just see,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. He hesitated for a second, then leaned toward her. The dim light from the lamp angled into his ear, and she saw it again. Something deep inside, glistening faintly. This time, she was absolutely certain. Something was in there that did not belong.
Her breath hitched in her throat. “It’s okay,” she whispered, fighting to keep her own voice calm and steady. “I’ll be so gentle.” She reached into her apron pocket and once again pulled out the small silver pin. Her hand was trembling. “Just hold very still for me, alright?” Ethan looked terrified, but he gave a small, jerky nod. Grace took a slow, deep breath and gently, cautiously, moved the tip of the pin closer. Her fingers were shaking so badly she could barely keep it steady.
The small, dark shape seemed to retreat, moving deeper as if it were trying to hide. “Please, Lord,” she breathed, “guide my hand.” Then, she felt it. The very tip of the pin made contact with something soft and sticky. Taking a chance, she carefully tried to hook it and pulled. For one heart-stopping second, nothing happened. Then, something slid free. It was small and wet, and it fell directly into her open palm. It was black, almost round, and it was… moving. Grace froze, her eyes wide with disbelief…
