The Housekepper Novels & Stories

No matter what, since heaven had given me a second chance at life, I absolutely could not allow the tragedy of my previous life to repeat itself. I returned to the bedroom and began ordering small home surveillance cameras online. In my previous life, when Megan first came to work in our home as a housekeeper, I had wanted to install cameras, but Daniel felt it would be disrespectful to someone living under our roof. Thinking back on it now, it was precisely because of our kindness that we had walked step by step into her trap.

After three months away, I was finally home. I asked the house's male housekeeper, Jacob Miller, to give me a hand carrying my luggage upstairs. Jacob hoisted the suitcase but had barely taken a few steps when—bang—the luggage crashed to the floor. He clutched his wrist, wincing in pain. The noise startled the three women on the sofa. They jumped up and rushed toward him, surrounding him with frantic questions, fussing as if he were about to shatter. They scrambled for ointment, massaging his wrist with careful fingers, treating him like fragile porcelain.

William replied, amused to see the head of his household member who was waving slightly and reprimanding him. Then he strolled into the house and went straight to the kitchen to prepare the late lunch alone. The house chef automatically doesn't cook because he knows his employer will be traveling abroad for a week. William stirred two eggs with the addition of cheddar cheese, tomatoes and green paprika, then fried them in a Teflon pan. Fortunately, white rice is always available because there are a dozen employees at his house who take care of the gate, front yard, and kitchen. In an instant, he could eat a simple, delicious menu. William took his cell phone and checked his email. The name E

“I ordered dinner. Thai. Figured you wouldn’t want whatever the housekeeper considers edible.” “You have a housekeeper?” “Had. She quit after she found a gun in the silverware drawer and decided she preferred working for people whose cutlery didn’t come with a body count.” He shrugged like this was normal small talk. “I cook now. Badly. Hence the Thai.” I sat on the edge of the bed, testing the mattress that probably cost more than a semester of textbooks. “So. Rules?”

The man stared at me, with an unreadable look. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself,” I dropped fluffy back on the couch, and extended my hand to him. “I’m Wren Hastings, housekeeping for Eve.” Are those three last words important? He must know Eve, at least they are neighbors. “Right,” the man said and sat on the couch, but Fluffy wasn’t there. The man’s commanding eye’s were distracting my senses. I’m supposed to search for fluffy again but it felt like I was caught in a spell.

After I returned home from traveling abroad, I found that our housekeeper had sued my husband and me. In court, she cradled her protruding belly and said with heart-wrenching anguish, "Gary and his wife are absolute scum! Under the guise of hiring a housekeeper, they lured me into their home, tied me to a bed, and abused me. "The child I'm carrying is Gary's!" Her mother, meanwhile, was sobbing uncontrollably. "Those two monsters have ruined my daughter's life. They deserve the death penalty!" No sooner had she spoken than a chorus of curses against my husband and me erupted from the gallery. "That scum is utterly brazen. He didn't even show up for the hearing! He must be punished sever

The elevator doors opened straight into his penthouse and he finally set me down on the sleek marble floor. I stumbled a step, looking around with my mouth open. The place was huge, all clean lines. Sleek marble counters stretched across the open kitchen, floor to ceiling windows showed the whole city sparkling below, and everything looked expensive as hell with low leather couches and that soft lighting making it feel way too intimate. He walked ahead like nothing happened and pointed down the hall, “I have a spare bedroom, you can take that one.” I followed him slowly, still trying to catch my breath, “ypu really live alone here by yourself?” I asked, glancing around at the massive space.

I walked over to the door and tried the doorknob. To my surprise, the doorknob twisted all the way. They hadn't locked me inside my room after all! They were probably very confident that I hadn't caught on to their plans yet. I inhaled deeply and pushed the door open before walking out. I heard sounds from the kitchen, like someone sharpening a knife. I didn't put on my indoor slippers and carefully made my way downstairs to the kitchen. The housekeeper, Suzy Barker, had her back turned to me. She held a very sharp meat cleaver, honing it against the block repeatedly.

Opened: Key. "This is key to small house behind this mansion. Not big like Tower. Small. Two rooms. For Kente queen and frying pan mother. When you fight in apartment, you can come here. No Vanessa can lock this house. Only frying pan can open." He gave key to Mother. Mother took key with frying pan hand: "Sir, key? For me? I am from Kejetia, can I have house in Airport Hills?" Grandfather: "You have mouth that I like. You protected my grandson's wife with frying pan. Yes, you can have house."

He shook his head. "I told her a quiet accident would be simpler." "She's in custody," Harold said. "She'll say nothing." Whitlock waved one hand. "Diane will say whatever gets her a better lawyer." He paused. "No. Diane is a problem for the morning." His voice became colder. "The real problem is the girl." Zoe's heart seemed to stop. "The housekeeper," Harold said. "The housekeeper." Whitlock looked down at the folder in his hands. "And her mother. And the page."