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 back in my chair, the leather creaking under my weight as I stare at the massive screen mounted on my office wall. The morning news cycle is in a state of absolute, glorious meltdown. The headline scrolling across the bottom of the screen reads: SYDNEY NEWTON FILES FOR DIVORCE AFTER HUSBAND,
"Maggie!" I roar as I cross the threshold. My head housekeeper appears instantly, her eyes widening at the sight of the unconscious Sydney in my arms. "Get a thermometer and a bowl of warm water. And have the kitchen prepare a clear bone broth. Immediately." I carry her into her room and lay her do
I run a trembling hand over my face, desperately trying to clear my vision, but it’s a losing battle. The rain, courtesy of three massive industrial overhead sprinklers, is relentless, pouring down on me in icy, heavy sheets that make my skin sting. I’m standing in the middle of a simulated street
"Bravo, Sydney!" he calls out, stepping into the light. "I knew you still had that spark." Panic flares in my chest. Is he here to serve me more papers? To make a scene? To tell the producers I’m mentally unstable? My breathing turns shallow as he begins walking toward the center of the set, moving







