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’m nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee when one of the maids approaches, her eyes apologetic as she holds out a plain, cream-colored envelope. "This just arrived for you, Miss Sterling," she says softly. I take it, my fingers tracing the heavy cardstock. There’s no return address, no flashy logo—jus
My focus, or what’s left of it, is on Riley. He's darting across the grass, his small face lit up with a grin as I toss the ball, a soft, underhand lob. He catches it, giggles, and brings it back. "Again, Deckard! Again!" I throw it again and he runs to catch it and then throws it back. I throw it
My mind blurs, taking me back down a memory lane I’ve tried to pave over for years. My fingers find a folded piece of paper tucked into the base of the box and I pull it out as tears gather in my eyes. "Owen," I whisper, my voice cracking. "I... I didn't realize, but this was the music box Deckard
"To be honest," I say, meeting Sydney's skeptical gaze, "I don't actually have a specific objective in mind. I brought you here primarily because my mother has been calling me three times a day asking to see us. I figured it was time to kill two birds with one stone." I let out a long breath, liste







