LOGINHe leans forward, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial, deeply unsettling whisper as he stares directly into my green contact lenses. "In fact... you don't have to be a maid at all, Candy. I can make all of this manual labor disappear with a single phone call. If you can just agree to be my pri
"Look, Naomi, if Dennise catches you in here, she’s going to—" The distinct, heavy sound of the deadbolt locking echoes through the quiet kitchen. My entire body goes completely rigid. My instincts scream at me, a cold shock of adrenaline instantly shooting straight to my fingertips. That isn't th
I smooth down the front of my oversized, scratchy maid uniform, my fingers tracing the small bruise on my chest from where Caroline's finger violently ripped my dress open at the cemetery yesterday. My skin still feels raw from the humiliation, my eyes are burning from crying all night over Owen, a
The striking, facial structure. Sydney is an absolute, undeniable replica of the woman in the vintage photograph—Tobias’s mother. The almost psychotic protectiveness Tobias has shown toward Sydney from the very first moment he met her. The massive financial safety nets he threw under her, the fact
Before I can even open my mouth to apologize for breaking into his house, Tobias speaks. His voice is incredibly quiet, completely devoid of its usual sharp authority, yet it carries a heavy, haunting weight that pins me right to the carpet. "For years..." he murmurs, his finger continuing its slow
I stand frozen on the gravel path, the engine of Sydney’s departing car roaring in my ears. I watch the taillights of her vehicle bounce over the cemetery threshold, disappearing completely from sight, and with every inch of distance she puts between us, my heart shatters into a million jagged, irre
I lean in across the dark wood, my jaw tight, waiting for the genius to drop some mind-blowing corporate strategy. Owen slides his glass entirely out of the way, his eyes tracking mine with a sudden, sharp intensity. "The first thing we need to do," he says, leaning his forearms on the table, "is p
I don't wait to hear another word. A blinding, white-hot rush of pure adrenaline and rage explodes in my chest. Before I even realize what I’m doing, my arm whips forward. I throw my phone across the bedroom with every ounce of strength I have left. It hits the far drywall with a sickening smack,
The vibration of my phone against the marble tabletop sounds like a gunshot in the quiet room. I glance down, expecting Nicholas checking in or maybe a notification from my legal team. Instead, the screen displays a number I’d rather throw into a woodchipper. Deckard. I slide the bar across the sc
"Are you blaming Sydney for your mother's death, Owen?" The weight of his question hits me like a bucket of ice water. I freeze, the reality of what I just muttered sinking in. What is wrong with me? How could I even think that, let alone say it out loud? The guilt, heavy and suffocating, slams i







