Brantley was thrilled too.

He stuffed his schoolbag and suitcase with care, leaving behind one pillow because it felt like leaving a piece of himself behind in the place he'd called ‘home’ and that it would be here awaiting his return.

Despite the hectic day, they managed a simple dinner, which Brantley enjoyed.

Raphael whipped up some mushroom soup, just for Elissa.

It was very tasty.

As Elissa sipped her soup, Raphael sat on the couch, typing away on his Laptop.

Beside him, Brantley peered at the screen. Rubbing his temples, Raphael remarked, “You're just a kid! Do you understand these complicated long words?"

Brantley expressed his eagerness to learn.

Before Raphael could respond, a knock at the front door interrupted.

He rose to answer it.

To his surprise, their former maid stood outside holding a melon.

Flustered, she stammered, "Mr. Jones, you're home."

He didn't invite her in.

Indifferently, he asked, “What do you want?"

Straightening her collar, the maid hesitated before saying, "Can I come in? There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

He relented and allowed her entry.

The maid offered to cut the melon, claiming it was Brantley's favorite.

Though young, Brantley understood she no longer worked there. He remained silent waiting for Raphael to take the lead.

Raphael patted Brantley's back, addressing the maid, “Spit it out. He just had his dinner. He can't eat anything more now."

Elissa, engrossed in her soup, paid the maid no mind.

The maid glanced at Elissa, murmuring, “That soup smells great. Mr. Jones made it for you, right? He's such a good cook. Anyways, here is the thing! I've got a favor to ask. I need one hundred grand. I tried getting it from my current employer but he refused. Mr. and Mrs. Jones, I have done a good job serving your family, have I not? I helped take Brantley to the hospital that night, didn't I? You wouldn't turn down a small request like this, would you?"

Elissa was taken aback by her shamelessness.

Before Raphael could respond, she retorted, “You've got it wrong. Sure, you helped out at the hospital, but you were our help back then and you were just doing what you paid to do. And don't forget, we gave you a thousand dollars when you left. We've done our part. Now you have nothing to do with us. Borrowing one hundred thousand from us? That's crossing the line! Emotional blackmail won't fly here!"

The maid felt ashamed.