The Housemaid's Secret Novels & Stories

Muriel had promised to accompany him in the new business. “Adolfo Muriel! Where are you?!” Mr. Brown asked as soon as the maid had let him in. “Adolfo Muriel, where are you? Are you hiding from me?” “Mr. Brown, I’ll call Mr. Muriel, please, wait for him here,” the maid said, without knowing how to stop him. “Mr. Brow, please!”

Williams' Mansion Manhattan, New York, US. 1 Year Ago… Claire stepped into a room that had always been closed—locked as if that room was a secret place that no one could enter. At least, that has been happening for the last two years since she returned from the UK. She turned her head when she saw the door of the room was opened by the maid—Michael's old room before his room moved to the first floor, right beside her room. "You are going to clean this room?" She asked the maid.

I said, caressing my growing belly. The little worm squirmed and kicked, making me smile. —— The next morning, my bags were packed and I waited outside the pack house as Crimson warriors loaded my things into the SUV. “Was that all?” Mason asked, eyeing my four bags. I nodded, “I’m not taking much. We’ll be decorating right?”

the maid asked with curiosity. "I am just his secretary, nothing more besides I have a boyfriend, bringing me home here doesn't mean that we have something going on between us."Mariana replied the maid. "Don't be annoyed with me,You are the first woman he brought home,that's why I was curious,"The maid said to her and Mariana smiled at her. "I don't have any reason to be annoyed with her,humans are filled with curiosity,it's not wrong to enquire about something,it's better than gossiping behind the person"Mariana said to her going through the food stuffs and ingredients in order to know which food to prepare.

The tall columns of the mansion loomed above us, shrouded in the golden glow of lanterns. The front door was open. We sneaked in unseen, through the black entrance hall. The room was thick with the smell of wood and sickly perfume. And then we heard them. Coming from the study. Nicholas motioned, and in we went. When we strode into the room, I had my heart jammed inside my throat. There, ensconced in a carved mahogany desk chair, was my mother. Elaine Rothschild. Alive. Elegant. Eternal. And framed before her, against the fire mantel and wearing a dirty grin—Victor.

She released a soft sigh and whispered, "There's a secret room in this house, a sanctuary where Jasmine kept her secrets. It holds the letters and baubles that reveal it all." I walked on ahead determinedly. "Take me there," I told her. The maid stopped and then led me down a dimly lit passageway behind a solid door. "This room is concealed for a reason," she cautioned. "Not many individuals are aware that it even exists." There was a small table inside with a pile of letters tied up in a red ribbon, some sort of jewelry, and an old picture of smiling Jasmine and some unknown man. I gestured toward the picture. "Who is he?" I snarled.

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

The ride back to my house was quick and as I walked down the hallway towards the room where that maid was confined, I was already reorganizing timelines, adjusting plans. We reached the private soundproof room that sat underground, hidden so well that most of the staff didn’t know this place existed. I stepped inside. The light inside the room was scarce, intentionally dimmed not for comfort but for focus. The maid was sitting stiffly on a metal chair, her hands folded over her lap. She heard my footsteps, but she didn’t look up. She refused to. “So,” I said as I stood towering over her. I didn’t sit down, sitting down means equality. “You slipped something in my wife’s pocket this morning,”

At my own house, I hired someone to clean once a week. “What do you mean she is our new live-in maid?” Danny’s mother asked, clearly confused. “You have been having trouble finding a cleaner that you trust for your house, right? You’ve gone through 6 or 7 in the past year. So I … I found someone. I went today to pick her up. She used to live here, and I … convinced her … to move back.” “But isn’t that Jenna Maxwell?” one of the older wolves asked. I turned and recognized him as a pack elder. He was on the committee that had to approve me leaving the pack all those years ago.

The hallway smelled faintly of coffee and citrus, the scent I always associated with him. I was already practicing the words in my head. “Theo, I got the money. We don’t owe her anything anymore.” And then, if I was brave enough, “I have something else to tell you, too. The truth about who I am.” I turned the knob. The first sound I heard was laughter. An awfully familiar sound. Hers. Heather. My steps faltered, heart hammering. The door creaked softly as I pushed it open. And then I saw them.