When Paige arrived, she looked nervous standing at the front door in her simple coat and worn shoes. Harold greeted her wearing dark glasses and leaning on a cane. He told her he had lost his sight years earlier. Paige accepted the story without hesitation and began her work with quiet dedication. She cleaned, cooked, read aloud from newspapers, and guided him through the garden paths. She never raised her voice, never showed impatience, and often spoke to him as though he were any other person, not a powerful figure fallen into solitude.
In the evenings, Paige sometimes paused before a large portrait hanging in the main living room. The painting showed Rose Whitman seated by a window, sunlight touching her hair, a diamond necklace resting at her throat. Paige never stared long, but Harold noticed. He noticed everything. Beneath his dark glasses, his eyes were sharp and fully functional. The cane was a prop. The blindness was a performance. He wanted to see what people did when they believed he could not see them.
One evening while Paige fed him soup, she spoke softly. “Sir, the woman in the painting was very beautiful.”
Harold turned his head slightly as if searching for the sound of her voice. “That was my wife,” he replied. “She was everything to me.”
Paige smiled. “She looks kind. I think she would be happy knowing you are still here.”
Harold felt a twist in his chest. He wondered whether Paige meant it or simply wished to please him. Time would tell.
After a week, Harold decided to test her. He left the door to the master bedroom open. On the vanity table, he placed Rose’s jewelry box and left the lid raised. Inside lay Rose’s diamond necklace, the one from the portrait, worth a fortune. He settled into a chair in the corner of the room with his dark glasses on and his cane across his lap, pretending to sleep. In his pocket was a small emergency phone. One press and security would arrive. One press and the truth about Paige would be revealed.
He waited.
Paige entered carrying a basket of laundry. She stopped when she noticed the open jewelry box. Her breath caught. The diamond sparkled beneath the chandelier, throwing tiny rainbows across the walls. Harold watched as her hands tightened around the basket handle.