Chapter 2

Hearing my response, Cecilia couldn't help feeling a strange sense of emptiness.

She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she simply nodded. "Okay. Go ahead."

The moving truck arrived soon after.

As I directed the movers carrying my belongings out of the mansion, Elliot strutted over, his head held high. He looked down at me with a smug smile.

"Damian, so what if you took advantage of my absence while I was overseas? You still have to leave with your tail between your legs."

He lifted his chin arrogantly.

"In Ceci's heart, I'm the only one who truly matters. No matter how hard you try, a replacement will always be nothing more than a replacement."

At that exact moment, my phone buzzed with a notification from my bank.

The six-figure compensation payment had just hit my account.

Suddenly, Elliot—the very man responsible for putting all that money in my bank account—looked a whole lot more likable.

I smiled and nodded readily. "Yes, yes. You're the most important person in Ms. Bennett's heart. I don't mean a thing to her."

Elliot gave a cold snort. "At least you know your place."

With that, he turned and strutted off, looking utterly satisfied.

Then I heard Martha Parker, the housekeeper, ask Elliot which room he wanted to stay in.

Without missing a beat, he replied, "I'll take the room Ceci filled with pictures of me, so she could look at them whenever she missed me."

Martha blinked in confusion. "I don't think we have a room like that."

Elliot's voice immediately rose. "How can there not be one? That's how it always happens in novels! When the CEO's one true love goes abroad, she always keeps a special room locked up and forbids anyone from entering because it's filled with pictures of him!"

He sounded genuinely offended as he continued, "If you don't know, just say you don't know! How can you just say there isn't one?"

I didn't stick around to hear the rest of the conversation. I simply shook my head and silently mourned for Martha's sanity.

…

After moving into the apartment, life became surprisingly easy.

Aside from sneaking back to the mansion every day—with Martha's help so I could avoid Elliot's watchful eyes—I just cooked Cecilia's three meals and had the rest of the day to myself.

Day by day, I looked healthier and more refreshed. Martha, on the other hand, looked like she was slowly wasting away.

During yet another one of our covert handoffs, I couldn't help asking, "Martha, has the mansion been that hectic lately? You look like you haven't had a decent night's sleep in weeks."

Martha let out a long, weary sigh.

"Don't even get me started. Mr. Lawson has practically driven me to the brink these past few days.

"On his very first day at the mansion, he demanded that Ms. Bennett fire me. Do you know why? Because I didn't tell him he was the first man the CEO had ever brought home.

"The next day, he asked me if Ms. Bennett had spent the past ten years moping around and never smiling after he left. I showed him a photo from an interview she'd done just a few days earlier, where she was smiling, and he got so angry that he smashed my phone."

It was as if Martha had finally found someone who would actually listen to her vent.

Once she started, she couldn't stop. She went on and on, recounting everything Elliot had put her through over the past week.

As I listened to her complaints, I felt a wave of relief. Thank goodness I'd moved into the apartment on the very first day.

If I'd had to deal with Elliot turning every little thing into some over-the-top soap opera, I probably would've lost a few years off my life.

Unfortunately, I celebrated too soon.

Only two days later, the peaceful life I'd been enjoying came to an abrupt end when someone started pounding on my doorbell like they were trying to break it down.

The moment I opened the door, Elliot shoved past me and stormed inside.

He strutted around the apartment like he owned the place, inspecting every corner before turning to me with his chin held high.

"No wonder you left so willingly that day. So Ceci had another place to hide you!"

I was utterly annoyed.

Desperate to get rid of him as quickly as possible, I said, "Mr. Lawson, I really am just a chef. If you have doubts, I can show you my employment contract."

I pulled out the contract and handed it to him.

The moment his eyes landed on my annual salary, his pupils narrowed.

"800,000 dollars?"

He let out a cold laugh, then snatched the contract from my hand and slammed it onto the coffee table.