Chapter 4 - THE MAID WHO WAS FIRED FOR TELLING THE TRUTH
Emily returned to Whitmore House the following morning.
Vanessa was waiting in the servants' hallway.
Her expression was cold.
“Pack your things.”
Emily stopped.
“What?”
“You're dismissed.”
Emily felt her stomach drop.
“Why?”
Vanessa smiled.
“Poor judgment. Inappropriate behavior with a guest. Embarrassing the family.”
Emily stared.
“You sent me into the library.”
“And you turned it into a spectacle.”
Emily swallowed.
“I didn't do anything.”
Vanessa stepped closer.
“You made my father look foolish.”
Emily looked at her.
Then said quietly:
“Your father did that himself.”
Vanessa's face hardened.
“Get out.”
Emily packed her locker.
Her hands trembled.
She had worked at Whitmore House for three years.
The salary wasn't generous, but it had kept Daniel in school.
Now she had no idea how they'd pay rent.
As she reached the servants' entrance, the head housekeeper, Mrs. Alvarez, stopped her.
“Emily.”
Emily turned.
The older woman looked devastated.
“I'm sorry.”
Emily forced a smile.
“It's okay.”
Mrs. Alvarez shook her head.
“No. It isn't.”
She pressed an envelope into Emily's hand.
Inside was a week's wages.
Emily stared.
“I can't take this.”
“It's what you're owed.”
Emily's eyes filled.
Mrs. Alvarez squeezed her hand.
“Your mother would be proud of you.”
Outside, Emily sat on the curb and cried.
Not because she regretted standing up to Vanessa.
Because dignity didn't pay rent.
Her phone rang.
Vincent.
She almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“Hello?”
“Emily?”
She wiped her face.
“Yes.”
“Are you alright?”
She laughed bitterly.
“Fantastic.”
Silence.
Then:
“What happened?”
“I got fired.”
Vincent's voice went cold.
“Who fired you?”
“Vanessa.”
He said nothing for several seconds.
Then:
“Where are you?”
Emily looked up at the mansion.
“Outside the servants' entrance.”
“Stay there.”
Ten minutes later, a black sedan pulled up.
Vincent stepped out.
He looked at her suitcase.
Then at her face.
His expression hardened.
“Did they give you a reason?”
Emily nodded.
“Apparently I embarrassed the family.”
Vincent looked toward the mansion.
Then said:
“Get in.”
Emily shook her head.
“No.”
He stopped.
“Emily.”
“I don't want to become another problem you solve with money.”
He studied her.
Then nodded slowly.
“Fair.”
He took out his phone.
Called someone.
“Marco, find out whether Moretti Holdings has an opening in records administration. Something legitimate. Something she can interview for.”
Emily stared.
Vincent ended the call.
“I can offer you an interview,” he said. “Not a job. You'll have to earn that.”
She looked at him.
“Why?”
He smiled faintly.
“Because you deserve the chance to work somewhere that doesn't confuse cruelty with leadership.”
That evening, Charles Whitmore called Vincent.
He sounded furious.
“You're interfering in my household.”
Vincent stood by his office window.
“No.”
Charles scoffed.
“You've taken an interest in a servant who has no business involving herself in family matters.”
Vincent's expression hardened.
“Charles, I think it's time we discussed the fire.”
Silence.
Then Charles whispered:
“What fire?”
Vincent smiled without warmth.
May you like
“The one that killed my father.”
And for the first time in twenty-three years, Charles Whitmore hung up on him.
