The Housemaids Secret Novels & Stories

You call for me ma'am"" "Yea I wanna know the total maid in the house if there's any free place where I can assign her" The man brought out a book and check through it "The young Miss Sofia,Mrs Smith daughter has 15 maids,the first floor 11,the second floor 9"he stopped " the young master has no maid" "What about the maids I assign for him??" Mrs smith said "He send them away" Mrs smith exhale "Assign Darcie as his personal maid" she said

she revealed. The mention of maids caught me off guard, and I couldn't help but furrow my brows in curiosity. Had I missed something during my time away? "Oh, right! The Master does not like noise, so he decided that the maids should do their chores and remain out of sight unless absolutely necessary," she explained, offering a glimpse into this mysterious household. My focus now wrapped around the tantalizing prospect of a secret hidden within the walls, my cooking project momentarily forgotten. "Pass me the oil, will you?" I requested absentmindedly, my thoughts consumed by the intriguing information she had shared.

I could still feel that heat wrapped tightly around me, as if one push would break the final barrier between us. "I-I fell asleep back here earlier," I said, my voice uneven. "I accidentally triggered the mechanism on the bed. Can you… turn it off for me?" My breathing had grown heavier without me realizing it. But instead of pulling away immediately, Clarissa seemed to shift her weight lower against me, as if the reaction only made her more excited. Then, after a pause, she stepped away and unplugged the bed. Without power, the restraints released almost instantly. The moment my arms and legs were free, I instinctively stood up.

We used the total, unmitigated chaos of Thorne's violent coup to quietly slip away from our grueling labor assignments. We blended seamlessly into the deep shadows of the stone walls, moving in the opposite direction of the panicked crowds rushing toward the armories. As we cautiously skulked through the grand, vaulted corridors of the main residential estate—trying to make our filthy burlap blend into the dark corners—we stumbled upon three high-ranking housemaids huddled inside a covered stone archway. They were packing silver into bags, frantically gossiping about the unfolding madness. I pulled Elara back, pressing our spines completely flat against the cold stone wall just a few feet aw

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.

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.

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,

said one of them and as soon as finished speaking, the four of them began their task, two of them approaching her. She staggered back and sat on the headboard warily, "Wait, what the hell is going on? What are you going to do?" She blurted, stopping them from reaching her. But the maids were like robots "We'll start washing you up Mistress" they held her even though she was protesting. "What? No! I can wash myself! I don't need someone to do that!" They dragged her to the washroom and locked the door, without a warning they stripped her off her pajamas, she gasped and stared at them. "What the hell? Where is my husband? Call him now!" She screamed, but the robots continued their work, bathin

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!”

In Love With The Maid Onyido, Joy Ijeoma THE MAID SERIES (Book 1) This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, to real people, living or dead; or to real locales are intended to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental. DEDICATION