Chapter 3 - The Price of Pride
Facebook Headline: THE BILLIONAIRE’S FIANCÉE FIRED THE HOUSEKEEPER IN A RAGE, BUT SHE DIDN'T KNOW THE SECURITY CAMERAS WERE RECORDING EVERYTHING! 🚨😱Maya felt the world tilt beneath her feet. Fired.
The word echoed in her mind like a death sentence. Without this job, the eviction notice sitting on her kitchen counter would become a reality in less than two weeks. Without this job, she couldn't afford the specialized inhaler Lily needed for her mild asthma.
"Ms. Prescott, please," Maya said, her voice dropping its defiance, replaced by a mother’s desperate plea. "Please don't do this. I need this job. Lily didn't mean any harm, she was just—"
"I don't care!" Sloane screamed, her elegance completely disintegrating into raw, ugly malice. Her friends stepped back, visibly uncomfortable with the monstrous display. "I want you out of this house in five minutes, or I am calling the police for trespassing! And take that disgusting, ragged toy with you!"
Jonah stepped forward, his expression stern. "Ms. Prescott, with all due respect, Mr. Whitaker hired Maya. You do not have the authority to terminate estate staff without his approval."
Sloane turned her fiery gaze onto the elderly manager. "I am about to be the mistress of this house, Jonah! If you don't like how I run things, I can ensure Grant replaces you before sunset. Do you want to test me?"
Jonah’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent, knowing that arguing further would only make things worse for Maya in the moment.
Maya didn't wait to hear more. Clutching Lily tightly against her chest, she walked over to the grand piano. She didn't want to touch Sloane’s dirty, cruel money, but she looked at her daughter’s face. She looked at the missing pink sock. She thought of the rent.
With a trembling hand, Maya picked up the thick white envelope containing the five thousand dollars. She didn't look at Sloane. She turned and walked down the long corridor toward the staff room to pack their few belongings.
"Yeah, run away!" Sloane shouted after them, trying to reclaim her dignity in front of her friends. She turned to Victoria, laughing nervously. "Can you believe the nerve of these people? Bringing their charity cases into Grant’s home?"
Victoria didn't laugh. She adjusted her pearls, suddenly looking very eager to leave. "You know, Sloane... I just remembered I have an appointment at the spa. I should go."
"Me too," the other woman chimed in. Within three minutes, Sloane’s guests had scurried out the front door, leaving the billionaire’s bride alone in the massive, echoing foyer.
Meanwhile, in the staff room, Maya was throwing her sweater and Lily’s coloring books into her backpack, her tears finally overflowing.
"Mommy, why are you crying?" Lily asked, wiping a tear from Maya’s cheek with her tiny hand. "Did I do a bad dance?"
"No, baby," Maya choked out, kissing Lily’s forehead. "You did the most beautiful dance in the whole wide world. Mommy is just... Mommy is just tired."
Jonah walked into the room, his face heavy with sorrow. He placed a gentle hand on Maya’s shoulder. "I am so sorry, Maya. I shouldn't have told you to bring her. This is my fault."
"No, Jonah, you gave me a lifeline today," Maya said, wiping her eyes. "Sloane would have found a reason to get rid of me eventually. She hates anything she can't control."
"Where will you go?" Jonah asked.
"I don't know," Maya whispered. "But we have the five thousand. It will buy us a little time."
"Listen to me," Jonah said, leaning in closer. "Grant is in Boston. His flight doesn't land until Thursday, but I am going to call him the moment he touches down. He needs to know what happened here."
Maya shook her head bitterly. "He’s marrying her, Jonah. Men like Grant Whitaker don't choose the housekeepers over their beautiful brides. It doesn't happen."
"You don't know Grant as well as I do," Jonah replied softly.
Maya walked out of the Whitaker mansion through the back door, holding Lily’s hand. As they walked down the long, winding driveway toward the iron gates, the wind blew cold, reminding her that winter was coming.
May you like
What Maya didn't know was that the entire incident had been caught on camera.
Grant Whitaker hadn't just built a cybersecurity empire; he had designed the security system of his own home. Every corner of the grand foyer was monitored by high-definition, state-of-the-art cameras that streamed directly to a secure cloud server—a server that Grant checked every single evening from his laptop, no matter where he was in the world.
