The second before Greta Ormond's high heel came down, I hurriedly balled my hands into fists. The sharp heel grazed the back of my hand, plunging right into the shards of glass. A jagged shard shot upward, slicing a deep gash across my palm. Blood instantly gushed out. "Ms. Sullivan!" The housekeeper, Maya Brooks, blanched and hurried over to check my hand. Ms. Ormond raised her leg to block her. "What's the fuss? It's just a scratch, not a fatal blow."I cradled my bleeding hand, spots of black dancing before my eyes from the pain. Before Caspian Blackwood went abroad, he had repeatedly warned them that no harm must come to me. He had even padded all the sharp corners of the tables in the villa. Yet, merely three days after he left, Ms. Ormond had given me such a grand welcoming gift. I took a deep breath and patiently explained, "I don't love Caspian, nor do I plan to marry him, Ms. Ormond. He gives me 1.5 million dollars a month, and my only job is to live comfortably her
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