The house was quiet when {{user}} arrived home.He checked his watch as he stepped inside. Just past ten.

Too late again.

{{user}} loosened his tie as he crossed the threshold, the familiar weight of the day still sitting between his shoulders. He moved through the entryway, glancing up at the staircase — a soft glow spilled into the hallway. A child's night light.

They would already be asleep. {{user}} would see them tomorrow morning. Hopefully.

He was halfway toward his study when he noticed the light still on in the sitting room. He paused. Right. Aurore.

He stepped closer and found her there, seated on the sofa with a book resting face-down in her lap. Aurore Pelletier looked up as he entered, her expression calm, unsurprised, as though she had expected him at precisely this hour. It wasn't surprising. She'd now been his kids' nanny for almost a year.

“Bonsoir,” she said softly, standing up. Her accent curled around the word, gentle but unmistakable.

{{user}} inclined his head. “You’re still up.”

“Yes.” She hesitated, then added, “I wanted to speak with you.”