Chapter 3: Into the Lion’s Den

The sun hit my face like it hadn’t seen me in years. In a way, it hadn’t.

I squinted at the light as I stepped out of the hospital, holding a small paper bag with donated clothes and a cheap phone Sebastian had picked up for me.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sebastian asked beside me, his tone soft but cautious.

I gave a small nod. “I’m fine. More than fine, actually. Thank you… for everything.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he replied quickly.

“Just… keep in touch, okay?”

“I will,” I said, gripping the phone tighter. “Thanks again, Dr. Wolfe.”

“Sebastian,” he corrected with a gentle smile.

I watched him walk away, his white coat fluttering behind him. He had no idea that the woman he saved wasn’t the one everyone thought she was and I had no plans to tell him.

My first step toward revenge had already been set.

Finding Adrian wasn’t hard.

Of course it wouldn’t be. He never did like to keep a low profile. A few fake documents under the name Rachel Zane, a convincing resume, and a strategically-placed application through a discreet agency... and I had a job.

Not just any job.

A maid. In Adrian Drake’s new home.

I arrived at the mansion the next morning. The place was massive, gates taller than trees, walls lined with security cameras, and a long stone driveway that looked like it belonged in a magazine. The house itself was all glass and marble, cold and modern, as if screaming at anyone who looked.

I stood at the door, heart pounding under my simple uniform. Every step felt like walking into a memory I wasn’t invited to.

The door opened, revealing a young woman in a neat black-and-white maid’s outfit.

“You must be the new girl,” she said flatly. “They’re waiting for you in the living room.”

“They?” I asked, but she had already turned around and walked off.

I stepped in.

The scent of luxury slapped me in the face; fresh flowers, polished wood, expensive cologne.

I took a deep breath, forcing down the bitterness crawling up my throat.

My money. My kidney. My life.

It paid for all of this.

The living room was even more stunning than the entryway. Tall ceilings, velvet curtains, soft lighting. I rounded the corner...

And stopped.

There he was.

Adrian Drake. My husband. The man who left me to die in a fire.

He looked exactly the same, arrogant, relaxed, like nothing in the world could touch him. And beside him, lounging with a smug smile and resting a hand on her stomach, was Vanessa!!!.

I knew that face anywhere.

His secretary. The same woman I used to fight with him about. The same one he swore meant nothing.

And now?

She was pregnant.

The ground under me tilted slightly.

I swallowed hard.

“Oh,” Vanessa said, her eyes trailing over me with disinterest. "You must be Rachel.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, keeping my voice soft.

I dipped my head slightly. A small, obedient bow.

Play the part. Be quiet. Be invisible.

Adrian’s eyes lingered on me. I felt his gaze crawling across my face, searching.

“Have we met before?” he asked, tilting his head.

“No, sir,” I said quickly. “This is my first day.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he let it go.

Vanessa sat up straighter. “Let me make this clear. You’ll be working under Mrs. Lorna, the head maid. Cleaning, laundry, assisting with meals, errands whatever you’re told. You’ll knock before entering any room and you’ll speak only when spoken to. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I don’t tolerate laziness or nosiness,” she added sharply.

“Understood.”

She stood with effort, one hand resting on her bump.

“Adrian, baby, I need to lie down.”

“Of course,” he said smoothly, offering his arm.

The sweetness in his voice made my skin crawl. Where was that kindness when I needed it?

When I was starving myself to pay off his debts?

As they passed me, Vanessa shot me a sideways glance full of warning.

Adrian didn’t look away. Not once.

“What’s your name again?” he asked.

“Rachel,” I repeated.

He paused. “You look familiar.”

I smiled politely. “People say that a lot.”

He stared at me a beat too long, then finally turned and walked away.

As soon as they were gone, I let out a quiet breath. My whole body was tense.

That was too close.

Later that night, I stood alone in the small staff room. The laughter from upstairs drifted down through the vents. Vanessa’s high giggle. Adrian’s low chuckle.

I paced the narrow space, chewing my thumbnail.

I needed more. A plan. A routine. A layout of the house.

For now, I had to play the role well.

I changed into my clean uniform and tied my hair up. I smoothed down the apron, trying not to think about what they were doing in that big master bedroom.

Laundry basket in hand, I walked toward the hallway. The master bedroom door was cracked open.

As I bent to collect a few towels, I heard his voice float out.

“…Vanessa, your pills are in the drawer. Top right.”

Top right drawer.

Of course it was.

It always had been.

That was where Adrian used to hide things. Important things.

He hadn’t seen me.

The hallway was empty.

My heart thudded as I quietly pushed the door open and slipped in.

Their bedroom looked like a showroom; white furniture, thick carpets, cold lighting.

Everything, expensive. Everything, spotless.

I walked to the dresser and pulled open the drawer.

There were pills. A few pieces of jewelry. And one sleek black notebook.

I grabbed it.

Then I heard it. Footsteps, getting closer.

I panicked, shoved the notebook under my apron, and spun around.

Adrian stood in the doorway.

Shirtless, his eyes narrowed.

“What are you doing here?” he asked sharply.

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

Then, his eyes dropped to my thigh.

The hem of my uniform had lifted slightly when I turned.

His gaze locked onto the small, crescent-shaped birthmark on my skin.

I saw his pupils shrink. His jaw tightened.

He knew.

His voice dropped into a whisper.

“…Sheila?”