David guided Rosa carefully toward the door, his phone already pressed to his ear as he requested his driver bring the car around immediately, his voice carrying a controlled urgency that left no room for delay or argument. Behind them, Constance remained seated in her armchair, her earlier indifference finally beginning to crack into something like uncertain concern, though she made no move to follow.
David paused briefly at the sunroom's threshold, looking back at his mother with an expression that carried the full weight of everything he'd just witnessed — the callousness, the indifference, the casual cruelty that had nearly cost a woman and her unborn child something neither of them could recover from.
"We will discuss this when I return," he said, his voice low and final, before turning his full attention back to Rosa, guiding her carefully toward the waiting car outside.
As they walked, a single tear tracked slowly down his cheek, unhidden and unashamed, the weight of how close this morning had come to genuine tragedy settling fully over him for the first time since he'd rounded that corner and found Rosa kneeling, alone and frightened, on his mother's marble floor.