Alv
“Don’t go to the basement.” Those were my boss’s final words before abruptly hanging up the phone. At first, I shrugged it off as yet another bizarre directive from Mr. Miles—a man whose peculiar demands had long since ceased to surprise me. But stepping into his house that day and hearing what his young daughter said about the basement made my heart race with apprehension.
It all began last Tuesday, a day that started like most others—chaotic and stressful. Mr. Miles tossed his car keys onto my desk before I’d even had a chance to sip my coffee. “Kara, take the Porsche to the mechanic. And this time, don’t let them overcharge you,” he barked.
By lunchtime, I’d already juggled phone calls from his ex-wife, delivered a pair of cufflinks to the only dry cleaner he deemed worthy, and presented his luxury condo designs to a demanding client while pretending to be his “junior partner.”
Just as I was catching my breath, my phone buzzed. When I saw Boss on the screen, I knew better than to ignore it.
“Kara,” he said, his voice taut, “I need you to pick Chloe up from school. She has a stomach ache. Take her to my place and stay with her until I get back.”
“But Mr. Miles, I’m in the middle of—”
“Now, Kara,” he interrupted sharply. Then came the warning: “Don’t go to the basement. It’s under repair. Just stay upstairs.”
His tone gave me pause. There was something uneasy beneath his usual authority. Reluctantly, I agreed.
At the school, I found Chloe curled up in the nurse’s office, looking pale and listless. She barely spoke on the ride to her house, but one thing she did say made my stomach churn.
“I need Rodger,” she whispered.
“Rodger?” I asked, confused.
“My little brother,” she said, her voice cracking. “Daddy left him in the basement this morning.”
I froze. A brother? The basement? My mind filled with worst-case scenarios as we arrived at the house.
After settling Chloe on the couch, I couldn’t resist asking her directly. “Chloe, what do you mean Rodger is in the basement? Is he okay?”
Her response was cryptic. “Dad said not to let him out.”
Every instinct told me to leave it alone, but curiosity and concern won out. I made my way to the basement door, my heart pounding.
The sight that greeted me wasn’t the horror I had imagined. Instead, the basement was transformed into a whimsical wonderland. Soft pastel walls, fairy lights, and a delicate tent surrounded by plush toys and books created an enchanting space. It was a child’s paradise.
As I stood there, stunned, Chloe appeared behind me. She walked to a shelf, picked up a photo, and handed it to me. It showed her with a young boy who looked to be about seven or eight—Rodger.
“Where is he now?” I asked softly.
Chloe pointed upward and said, “He’s up there. In heaven.”
The weight of her words hit me. Rodger had passed away from cancer the previous year, and this room was her father’s way of preserving his memory while helping Chloe cope with her grief.
She led me to a small framed drawing on a table. It showed two children holding hands under a rainbow. “Daddy made this room for me,” Chloe said. “So I don’t feel sad about Rodger.”
Her pride in the room was heartwarming, and my perception of Mr. Miles began to shift. This wasn’t the cold, demanding man I knew at work; this was a grieving father pouring his love into a sanctuary for his daughter.
Just then, Mr. Miles came home. His voice called out for Chloe, and she ran to him. Moments later, he appeared in the basement doorway, his face tense. “Kara, I told you not to come down here,” he said.
I stammered an apology, explaining that I’d been worried about Chloe’s mention of Rodger. For a moment, his tough exterior cracked. He admitted, “This is the only way I know how to help her. Losing him… it broke us.”
For the first time, Mr. Miles seemed human—vulnerable.
Later, as we talked, I confessed my frustrations with my job. To my surprise, he didn’t react defensively. Instead, he handed me a folder of blueprints and asked for my genuine input. “Let’s start over,” he said.
That day changed everything. I no longer saw Mr. Miles as just a demanding boss; I saw a father grappling with loss and doing his best for his daughter. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like my work mattered.
From a simple babysitting favor to uncovering the depth of a family’s grief, I walked away with a renewed sense of purpose—and a deep respect for the man I once thought I couldn’t stand.
