บ้าไปแล้ว! ข้าหลงไปในนิยายจีนเซินเจิ้น!

I had never imagined that one day, as the founder of a Wall Street venture capital firm, I would be called a freeloader to my face.

What made it worse — that estate was mine.

Thirty minutes after my call, a patrol car pulled up at the curb.

Before the officer could even ask what had happened, Alice — my housekeeper — spotted them through the video intercom.

She threw the front door open and hurried out to meet me, face drained of color.

"Ms. Wolfe, what's going on? Why did you call the police?"

I just looked at her. I didn't say anything.

The officer studied her. "This woman reports an unlawful entry at her residence. Are you the one she's referring to?"

Panic flashed across Alice's face.

Her hands clenched together, sweat beading on her forehead. "No, no — it's not what it looks like! I'm the cook Ms. Wolfe hired. I just brought my daughter to visit, and she accidentally closed the door behind us. There's no break-in, I swear."

She gestured at the open doorway, forcing a smile. "See? Door's open. Everything's fine."

The officer turned to me. "Ma'am, do you still want to press charges?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but Alice stepped close and dropped her voice into a desperate whisper.

"Ms. Wolfe, please — let it go this once. For my husband's sake. He saved your life. You know I've been raising my daughter alone since he died. She doesn't want me working as a maid, so I told her I won the lottery. She has no idea I'm just the help. Please don't press charges."

Hearing her bring up her husband softened something in me, just a little.

Alice's husband was Leo. He'd been my driver for six years — steady, loyal, the kind of man you could count on.

Three months ago, on an ordinary afternoon, Leo was driving me to the office, same as always.

At an intersection, a truck lost control and barreled straight at us.

Leo reacted in a split second. He yanked the wheel hard, taking the impact on his side.

The crash rang out down the entire block.

He died on the scene.

Somehow, I survived.

When I woke up in the hospital, I learned Leo had left behind a wife and a daughter still in school.

A widow and a teenager. No one to lean on.

After I was discharged, I hired Alice as my private cook at three or four times a normal salary.

I did it because I wanted them to have an easier life. It was the one thing I could still do for Leo.

For the first two months, Alice was flawless.

The kitchen was spotless. The meals were varied, balanced, made with real care.

When I worked late, there was always a plate ready in the fridge, with little notes stuck to the plastic wrap telling me exactly how long to reheat it.

Hiring her felt like one of the best decisions I'd ever made.

Then she fainted at work one day, and everything changed.

That afternoon, when she came back, there was a girl trailing behind her — young, pretty.

I was about to ask, but Alice pulled me into the study and dropped her voice.

"Ms. Wolfe, my daughter's on break from school. She's worried about my health and wants to stay close. Is that all right?"

I didn't think much of it. I nodded.

But slowly, I started to notice things weren't right.