Chapter 4: His Ghosts can’t sleep

Adrian’s voice was low, almost a whisper. “Sheila?”

My spine stiffened. My fingers paused just a beat too long over the folded sheets in my hand

I stood there,pretending like I hadn’t heard him. Pretending like my entire soul hadn’t jolted awake at the sound of my name, my real name.

I could feel his eyes. Not on my face, not even on the stolen notebook hidden under my apron. He was staring, no, burning a hole into the hem of my skirt, where the faint curve of the birthmark had peeked out when I turned.

I straightened, face blank, and said.

“Are you okay, sir?” I asked, calm as water.

He didn’t answer. His eyes were still locked on the spot, color draining from his face.

“You seem really obsessed with that mark…” I tilted my head, adding a soft, puzzled frown. “You look pale. Maybe you need to sit down?”

I smoothed my apron, pretending not to notice how Adrian's pupils had dilated. His voice had cracked, and for a man like him, that was a sin. He blinked fast like he could erase what he'd just seen, like saying my name hadn’t sliced through the air like a forgotten ghost.

But I smiled softly, innocently. "Do you need water, sir?"

His jaw clenched like it wanted to ask questions, but he bit them back. He always did that when something scared him tight lips, hard eyes, deep breath. Control was his addiction. And I just planted a crack in it.

He blinked, like waking up from a trance, then shook his head. “No. It’s nothing.”

Of course it is, Adrian.

I gave a polite bow and walked out of the room with the linen pile still in hand. Each step felt like victory. He had even forgotten to question why I was snooping around in the room and I was grateful for that.

Later that night, the notebook I’d tucked into my apron pocket sat under the loose floorboard I’d found in the servants’ quarters. It was full of unfiled financial drafts, handwritten notes in Adrian’s sharp, slanted pen. The last few pages detailed a pitch for a merger deal with an overseas partner, confidential, urgent, happening tomorrow.

Stupid man. He thought he was too smart to fall.

I stayed up that night copying one of the drafts, rewriting the figures with just enough error to spark confusion and cost him. I slid it back into the drawer by morning, right where he’d left it

By the next morning, Adrian was colder, snappier, and barking at everyone. He was haunted. Not by guilt he wasn’t that noble, but by confusion. Doubt. Fear.

Let it eat him alive.

I didn’t need to yell or cry to strike back. I had sharper tools now.

The meeting crashed and burned by noon. He stormed in that afternoon with the air of a man set on fire from the inside out.

“What the hell happened today?!” he barked at the staff as he tore off his tie.

Everyone came out immediately, stood frightened and visibly trembling. Everyone knew Adrian’s temper. They knew not to speak unless spoken to, they knew to stay out of his way.

I was in the corner of the kitchen, slicing oranges like it was a spa day. From where I stood, I could see his fists clenching. I could smell his fury. It smelled like home.

I smiled. But Vanessa caught me, now she suspected I had something to do with it but she had no proof

Her eyes pinned me from across the hallway like she’d seen a snake in her closet. Her lips twitched with something cold, calculating. She didn’t say anything then, she didn’t need to. But I could tell she was plotting.

They held a grand dinner that evening. Guests, white table linens, and wines no one could pronounce.

I played the good maid. I served, I cleaned, I smiled.

There, Vanessa made her move.

“Rachel,” she called, dragging out my borrowed name like spoiled silk. Her smile gleamed, but her voice cut. “You missed a spot under the table. Why don’t you crawl under and wipe it?.”

The room went silent. Adrian didn’t even flinch.

I stared at her for three seconds too long. Just enough to say everything.

Then I smiled.

“As you wish, ma’am.”

I bent slowly, deliberately. I could hear her holding her breath. I crawled halfway under the table then..

“Oops,” Vanessa said, pouring her wine too fast so it spilled across the table into my lap. “So clumsy of me!”

The guests gave awkward laughs.

“Oh no, you’re soaked,” she added, eyes bright. “You’ll need to change.”

I straightened up, drenched in red wine. Her smug face, the glint of victory in her smirk, this woman had always been hungry for what was mine. Now she was feeding on it openly.

But behind her, I noticed something. Her phone was lit. A text still glowing on the lock screen:

“I miss you already. When can we meet again?”

…Unknown Number

Vanessa quickly flipped the phone upside down when she noticed me looking.

Gotcha!!

I excused myself with a nod.

A good maid wouldn’t talk back, a clever one doesn’t need to.

Back in the corridor, I headed for the laundry, passing the back office quietly.

Just as I turned the corner, Vanessa’s heels clicked fast behind me.

“Wait,” she said, voice no longer smooth. “What exactly are you looking at, maid?”

I stopped. I could feel her breath just inches from my neck.

I didn’t turn.

“Nothing, ma’am. I just clean what I’m told.”

“Funny,” she hissed. “You don’t look like someone who’s just here to clean.”

I turned slightly, giving her a blank, obedient expression. “Do I make you uncomfortable, ma’am?”

There it was. A twitch in her eye.

“I don’t like liars,” she snapped. “And something about you feels like one.”

I tilted my head just a little. Just enough to unsettle her. “Then I’ll do better to blend in.”

We locked eyes. She wasn’t smiling anymore.

And neither was I.