Chapter 1 - The Trap Behind the Mask
The plush silk robe draped over the mistress's shoulders was a one-of-a-kind anniversary gift imported directly from Paris. I remembered the exact words Ethan whispered into my ear when he fastened the matching belt around my waist on our seventh anniversary: "Only the finest for the queen of my heart."
Now, that very same fabric hugged the curves of a woman twenty years younger than me. She sat curled on my Italian leather sectional, tapping her French-manicured nails impatiently against a crystal glass filled with my vintage Cabernet.
"Did you hear me, maid?" she barked again, her shrill voice echoing off the high ceilings of my living room. "Wipe the stain off the marble table before it sets. If you ruin Ethan’s furniture, I’ll have him deduct it from your paycheck."
I kept my head lowered, my eyes hidden beneath the brim of a navy service cap and a thick medical mask concealing my trembling jaw. Beneath the oversized gray housekeeper's uniform, my heart hammered like a war drum against my ribs.
I reached forward with a damp microfiber cloth, mechanically wiping the red droplet she had carelessly splashed across the white Carrera marble. My wedding band, temporarily hidden inside my apron pocket, burned against my thigh like a branding iron.
"Be careful with the decanter," she muttered, rolling her eyes as she reached for a cluster of green grapes on the silver tray. "Ethan said everything in this place was chosen by a woman with zero taste, but at least the wine cellar is worth keeping."
My knuckles turned white around the damp cloth. I had spent eight months collaborating with architects to design every square inch of this lakeside home, funding seventy percent of the construction with the trust fund my late father had entrusted to me.
At that moment, the heavy mahogany front doors clicked shut, followed by the familiar, jaunty whistle that used to bring a smile to my face whenever Ethan arrived home. He strolled into the great room, tossing his cashmere coat over an antique bench, his handsome face lighting up as his eyes locked onto the woman on the sofa.
"There you are, Chloe," Ethan murmured, his voice dripping with an oily tenderness he hadn't shown me in over two years. "I was beginning to think the traffic on Route 10 would keep me from my favorite girl."
He wrapped his arms around her from behind, burying his face into her neck, right over the collar of my silk robe. I remained frozen on the other side of the coffee table, a shadow holding a spray bottle, completely invisible in the eyes of the man who had promised to love me until his dying breath.
"You smell incredible," Ethan whispered, completely oblivious to my presence. "Did you try the wine from the cellar?"
"I did," Chloe replied with a pout, leaning back against his chest. "Though your new cleaning lady almost shattered the glass. She’s clumsy, Ethan. You need to tell Grace to hire people who actually know how to do their jobs."
Ethan glanced lazily across the room in my direction for less than half a second. To him, I wasn't a human being with thoughts or feelings; I was merely a faceless service worker dressed in institutional gray, beneath his notice.
"Hear that?" Ethan said dismissively, flicking his fingers at me as if swatting away a fly. "Take the tray into the kitchen and finish the laundry in the basement. We don't like to be disturbed when we're having a private conversation."
I bowed my head slightly, took the silver tray, and backed out of the room toward the corridor. Every fiber of my being screamed to tear off the mask, smash the crystal decanter over his arrogant head, and throw both of them into the pouring rain.
Across the arched hallway, Grace stood waiting beside the pantry door, her weathered face etched with deep sympathy and fierce loyalty. Grace had worked for my family for twenty-five years, and she was the only reason I had discovered Ethan’s treacherous double life before it was too late.
"Did you hear what he said on the stairs?" Grace whispered, pulling me into the darkness of the pantry.
May you like
"He said everything is in motion," I replied, my voice shaking with cold fury as I pulled down the mask. "He said I was going to sign documents when I returned from Chicago on Sunday without even reading them."
Grace reached into her black handbag and pulled out a duplicate set of keys. "The thick envelope is in his private study safe, Laura. He changed the combination yesterday, but I watched him enter the digits from the security mirror."
