Chapter 3 - THE MAID'S REVENGEThe next morning, at 7:00 AM sharp, I was back in my "Martin Bell" uniform, pushing a heavy cleaning cart down the second-floor hallway.
As I passed Serena’s guest suite, the door flew open. She stepped out wrapped in a cashmere robe, holding a steaming mug of espresso.
She nearly collided with my cart, spilling a drop of coffee onto her slipper.
"Watch it, you clumsy idiot!" she hissed, glaring down at me. "And listen to me carefully, Martin. Today is the final floral tasting for the wedding. I want the entire ground floor deep-cleaned by noon. If there is a single speck of dust on the crystal chandeliers, I’ll have Ethan fire you on the spot."
I kept my head bowed, playing the submissive servant to absolute perfection. "Yes, Miss Cross. Right away, ma'am."
She sneered, turning on her heel. "People like you survive by being invisible. Try not to forget your place."
As she walked away toward her suite, I looked up, watching her graceful, arrogant stride. Invisible, she called me. She had no idea that every breath she took in this mansion—every dress she wore, every glass of wine she drank—was funded entirely by the man she treated like dirt.
Later that afternoon, Ethan came down to the kitchen while I was wiping down the marble counters.
He looked exhausted, dark circles bruised beneath his eyes. He poured himself a glass of water and sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Martin," Ethan murmured, leaning against the island.
"Yes, Mr. Ethan?" I kept my voice raspy and old, keeping my face turned away from the bright sunlight.
"Do you ever feel like... like the people closest to you only want you for what you can provide?" he asked, his voice cracking with quiet despair.
I stopped wiping the counter. My heart ached for my son. He knew deep down that something was wrong, but Serena’s manipulation had trapped him in a web of emotional guilt.
"Sometimes, Mr. Ethan," I said softly, letting a fraction of my real authority slip into my tone. "A man doesn't truly know who loves him until he loses everything he owns."
Ethan stared at me, blinking in confusion at the strange depth in the old housekeeper's words. Before he could ask what I meant, Serena’s voice shrieked from the hallway.
"Ethan! Where are you?! The caterer is here!"
May you like
Ethan sighed, put his glass down, and walked away without answering.
I watched him go, my grip tightening around the cleaning rag. Hold on just a little longer, son, I thought. Dad is about to clean house.
