Novel-novel oleh Esthertochi

**Two Weeks Later**Elena had fallen into a routine.Wake at 5:45 AM. Shower, dress in her uniform simple black pants and a white blouse that Patricia had provided. Be in the kitchen by 6:00 AM to prepare Mr. Blackwell's coffee. Deliver it to his study at exactly 6:00 AM, knock twice, leave it on the table outside his door, and retreat before he opens it.At 6:30 AM, he leaves for his workout in the private gym on the lower level. That gave Elena an hour to clean his quarters.His bedroom was surprisingly sparse for a billionaire. A king-sized bed with dark gray linens, a dresser, and a chair by the window. No photos, no personal items on display. The only hint of personality was the book on his nightstand whatever he was currently reading. Last week it was something on behavioral economics. This week, surprisingly, it was a novel. Fiction. *The Count of Monte Cristo*.His bathroom was immaculate_he was neat, which made her job easier. She cleaned the mirrors, restocked the towels, an

Saturday morning arrived too quickly.Elena stood in the middle of her tiny apartment—now mostly empty except for a few boxes she asked Sophie to store,and looked at the two suitcases that contained her entire life.One suitcase held clothes: mostly practical things now, nothing fancy. She sold most of her "Marcus era" wardrobe online for whatever she could get. Designer dresses and heels didn't make sense for a housekeeper anyway.The other suitcase held personal items: photos of her father, her mother's old jewelry box, books, her laptop, a few things she couldn't bear to part with.The wedding dress still hung on the bathroom door. Elena had meant to deal with it, but every time she tried, she couldn't bring herself to touch it. In the end, she left it there for the landlord to dispose of. Let someone else throw away that ghost.Her phone rang. Patricia."Miss Cortez, the car will arrive in ten minutes to collect you.""Car?" Elena had assumed she drove herself."Mr. Blackwell is s

Elena stood in front of the iron gates, staring up at the most intimidating house she had ever seen.House wasn't even the right word. Estate. Mansion. Fortress, maybe. The building loomed at the end of a long, tree-lined driveway—gray stone, sharp angles, tall windows that reflected the morning sun like mirrors. It looked more like a museum than a home.The GPS on her phone had led her twenty miles outside the city, through winding roads and increasingly isolated countryside, until she'd reached these gates. They opened automatically when she pulled up, as if the house had been expecting her.Elena's old Honda Civic felt painfully out of place as she drove up the pristine driveway. She half-expected someone to run out and tell her to use the service entrance.She parked near what she assumed was the main entrance—massive double doors with iron fixtures—and checked her reflection in the rearview mirror one last time.She had done her best. Her hair was pulled back in a neat bun. Minim

Three days later, Elena sat in her tiny studio apartment, surrounded by papers she couldn't bear to look at.The wedding dress hung on the back of her bathroom door, still dirty from the garden. She couldn't bring herself to take it down. She couldn't bring herself to do much of anything.Her phone buzzed for the hundredth time. She ignored it. It was either another bill collector, another vendor demanding payment, or another person who wanted to hear the "real story" about what happened. The gossip sites had already run with it: *"Social Climber Gets Her Comeuppance: Chen Heir Leaves Gold-Digger at Altar."*Someone had leaked photos. Elena in her wedding dress, alone at the arch. Elena's face as she realized Marcus wasn't coming. The images were everywhere—Instagram, Twitter, even some celebrity gossip blogs. The comments were vicious.*"She really thought a guy like that would marry HER?"**"The Chens dodged a bullet."**"I heard she was only after his money."**"Karma is real."*So

Elena Cortez had never felt more beautiful.She stood in the bridal suite of the Grandview Hotel, staring at her reflection in the full-length mirror. The wedding dress was a dream ivory silk with delicate lace sleeves, a fitted bodice that made her feel like a princess, and a train that pooled elegantly on the marble floor. Her dark hair was swept up in an intricate updo, woven with tiny white roses. Her makeup artist had made her eyes shine, her lips the perfect shade of rose."You look absolutely stunning, " her mother whispered, tears already streaming down her face. Rosa Cortez dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, careful not to smudge her own makeup.Elena's best friend and maid of honor, Sophie, fluffed the train one more time. "Marcus is going to die when he sees you. Seriously, his heart might actually stop."Elena laughed, though her stomach fluttered with nerves. "I hope not. I'd like him alive for the honeymoon."Through the windows, she could see the garden below three hundr