The Housemaid Ebook Novels & Stories

Up until noon, everything looked normal. Just as disappointment began to creep in, she suddenly strode straight into my bedroom under the camera. When she came back out, she was wearing my silk sleepwear. She had also put on my jewelry, around her neck and on her hands. She sat on the sofa, elegantly lifting a glass of red wine, every bit the mistress of the house. At that moment, the doorbell rang. She rose unhurriedly and went to open the door. A young woman walked in.

The master bedroom of The Obsidian was larger than Ava’s entire apartment. But she barely had time to take in the silk sheets and the panoramic view of the city before Caleb’s phone chimed. Actually, it wasn't Caleb’s phone. It was hers. She pulled it from her clutch, her heart leaping into her throat. 15 Missed Calls: Stepmother Eleanor. 22 Missed Calls: Marcus. "It seems the market has crashed earlier than expected," Caleb remarked, pouring two glasses of amber liquid from a crystal decanter. He didn't look like a man who had just destroyed a multi-million dollar company; he looked like a man who had just finished a light workout.

The sink was crammed with dishes, the air sour and stale. She wasn't the radiant Janet anymore. Just a lonely, unkempt old woman who couldn't manage on her own. Gray streaks took over her hair. Her clothes hadn't been washed in forever. Yesterday, the electricity shut off. That night, every other apartment glowed. Hers stayed dark. She stood there realizing she had no clue how to top up the utility card. In the pitch-black apartment, she felt her way to the bedroom and slammed into the wardrobe. Only after Harlan disappeared did it hit her—order didn't happen by magic. A clean, quiet home took work. Constant work.

Three days before Sheldon was supposed to leave the country, he mortgaged our house. He even helped us pack, moving me and the boys into a tiny one-room basement unit on the third floor down. It was barely 300 square feet and was damp, musty, and dark. Sheldon stood in the middle of that little room, talking to our sons as if he was giving some grand speech.

I didn't want to remember that I was alone! After a few hours of crying, I began to feel that my tears were drying up. I looked at the clock and it was almost midnight, so I got out of bed and picked up the box that I had dropped on the floor as soon as I went upstairs, where the uniform was kept. It was like a horror movie to open that box, it contained the prelude to a great nightmare, I took a deep breath as I looked at the garment, it was very reminiscent of the uniform of one of the maids at my old mansion. "I want my house," I mumbled sadly, it was so frustrating and so unreal to be living through all this, even though it was almost two months since I moved in, it was still all a bit o

"It's not opening. I'm serious." "What?" I took the book from her hands and then easily opened it. "Are you kidding me? It wasn't opening." Emily said. I closed the book and handed it to her again. "Try it." Emily held the cover in both her hands and pulled as much as she could. She wasn't playing. The book really wasn't opening. "Wait." I took the book and ran downstairs. Mary, Emily's maid was preparing a batter on the kitchen counter. She was a sweet-faced old lady, with an extremely sweet personality, serving the Andersons before Emily was even born.

“Mrs Harris, should we go ahead?,”Amelia was lost in thought that she was deaf to the maid’s question. “Mrs Harris, should I commence the cleaning?” She said again with a higher pitch and Amelia was forced to listen.she gave her a doubtful look and rubbed her protruding belly nervously.In Pamela’s absence,she was the woman of the house,she shouldn't be too scared to do the needful. “Go ahead Martha.” A boost of confidence filled her heart,the handmaid send a signal to the rest of the idle maids who followed her into the darkest room in the mansion.

Given Rolland's carefree personality and solitary living, things were often misplaced, requiring her considerable effort to organize them properly. By the time she stepped out of the compact apartment, it was already approaching afternoon. She made her way straight back to the mansion, feeling a subtle pull towards the place she could call home, no matter how much she resisted. As she entered the house, it struck her as unusual that the atmosphere was so quiet upon opening the door. Considering she hadn't returned the previous night, she had sent a text message to Maria, their maid, informing her not to come today. There shouldn't be anyone else present in the household. Adjusting her shoes,

she sighed. She couldn't even swallow her food anymore. She got up and instructed the servants who were lined in rows to clean the table up before she went back to her room. The servants felt bad that they were going to throw away the untouched food again. They shook their heads while wiping the table and whispered. "Life of rich is never happy and contented. Living alone in this big mansion isn't exactly an ideal way of living!" As for Isabella, she lazily slumped against the cushions on her five-seater couch staring blankly on her comfy queen sized bed. She emitted a long, deep, audible breath expressing the emptiness in her heart.

I have never had an office job before, and I am quite excited about the experience. I have checked a few tips online to avoid making amateur mistakes, but sadly, I don't know the name of his company, so I am going in blind. Ma seems happy and content with the new job, and it makes me hope I will be as well. She has been gushing about the mansion and all the appliances available to ease her work and how kind everyone is. I decided to drag myself off the soft mattress and went searching for Ma to see if she needed help in any way. When I found her, she was busy, with Maria acquainting her with our boss's favorite dishes and the recipes.