Semua Bab FROM HIS MAID TO HIS QUEEN : Bab 21 - Bab 30

Lily (POV)Sebastian’s gaze is sharp, so sharp it feels like it can cut through skin and bone. He leans back in his chair, posture relaxed, but his eyes… his eyes are unreadable. My hands won’t stop trembling, my knees press together under the table, and my heart is pounding so loudly that I am convinced he can hear every frantic beat.I don’t know whether to stay or run. Each second of his silence makes the air heavier, pressing against my chest. The longer he says nothing, the more my fear rises like a tide I can’t stop.Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Maybe I should have found another way. Emma and Drey told me to, insisting I had no choice. “He’s the only one who can help you, Lily,” they said. But should I have listened? No. I could have tried something else, anything else.But then again… what other choice did I really have? Nobody was willing to help me. Friends, neighbors, even those who once claimed to love my mother—they all turned away. Some whispered ugly suggestions, the kin

Victoria’s POVThe mirror has always been my closest companion. It never lies, never hides, and never fails to reflect the truth I already know, that I am beautiful, radiant, flawless. Tonight, more than ever, I needed to see myself through its eyes. Tonight was not just a date; it was history in the making. For the first time, Sebastian Kingsley, the man who rarely wasted a glance on women, was taking me out.I leaned closer, brushing a final stroke of red across my lips. The deep, rich shade curved perfectly, complementing the sharp line of my jaw and the smooth ivory of my skin. My gown–an emerald silk masterpiece that hugged my body like it had been stitched for me alone–shimmered beneath the soft light of my dressing room. I had chosen emerald because it meant power, wealth, envy. It meant ownership.I tilted my head slightly, studying the way my hair fell over my shoulders in glossy waves. Everything had to be perfect. Because tonight, the world would see me not as Victoria—the

Drey's POVThe coffee in this Ikoyi café tastes bitter, but I drink it anyway. Caffeine is caffeine, and I've been awake for nearly thirty-six hours straight tracking down leads that keep evaporating like morning mist over the lagoon. But this one—this one feels different.I check my watch. She's late. Fifteen minutes late, which either means she's reconsidering or she's making sure she wasn't followed. Given what Olivia's agreed to tell me, I'm betting on the latter.My phone buzzes. Sebastian: Any progress?I type back quickly: Meeting the source now. Will report soon.His reply is instant: Make it count.I've worked for Sebastian Kingsley for two years, and I've learned to read between the lines of his clipped messages. "Make it count" means this matters. Deeply. This isn't just another corporate investigation or background check on a potential business partner. This is personal.This is about his sister. And, though he'd never admit it, this is about Lily.I've watched him over th

Chapter 28: Martha’s WarningLily's POVThe laundry room smells like lavender detergent and steam. I'm folding Sebastian's shirts carefully—collar first, sleeves aligned, creased down the middle—when Martha appears in the doorway. She hovers there, wringing her hands, glancing over her shoulder like she's being followed."Lily." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "Can we talk? Privately?"I look up from the crisp white shirt in my hands, surprised. Martha and I aren't friends. We've never been friends. She's always kept her distance, watching me with calculating eyes, occasionally making snide remarks about my special treatment from Mr. Kingsley. After the jewelry incident—where Victoria planted stolen items in my room and Martha stood by silently—I'd written her off completely."What do you want?" I don't bother hiding my wariness."Please." She steps fully into the room, closing the door behind her. In the harsh fluorescent light, she looks older than her forty-something years. Ti

Lily’s POVI haven’t slept.Outside my window, Lagos hums awake — vendors calling, buses blaring, sunlight crawling over glass and concrete. But inside, the world is still, caught between heartbreak and denial.I’ve spent the whole night staring at my phone. Every feed, every gossip site, every cruel headline repeats the same story:Sebastian Kingsley and Victoria Whittemore — Power Couple Attend Lagos Convention. Wedding Bells Soon?And the photos. God, the photos.Victoria in emerald silk, her hand looped possessively through Sebastian’s arm. His tailored suit, his distant expression. Together, they look inevitable — like a headline that’s already written itself.I zoom in despite myself. His face is unreadable, but she’s glowing. Confident. Victorious. Like a woman who’s already won.Maybe she has.Maybe I was the fool who thought a man like Sebastian Kingsley could ever see someone like me — a maid, a nobody — and choose her.I toss the phone facedown on my bed and press my palms