“Oh, I thought you’d gone home.”
“I live in the staff quarters, sir,” she said with a small smile. “Easier to work late if needed.”
Richard hesitated. “You’re different from the others. They were… afraid.”
Aisha’s gaze was steady. “Fear makes mistakes. I don’t have the luxury of mistakes.”
That answer seemed to intrigue him, but before he could ask more, the front door slammed and Olivia’s heels clicked sharply against the marble. She was back—earlier than usual.
The next morning, Olivia was unusually quiet. She stayed in her suite, making phone calls in hushed tones. Aisha noted the tension in her voice, the way she avoided Richard at breakfast.
That night, as Aisha passed the master suite, she overheard Olivia’s words through the slightly ajar door:
“…No, I told you not to call me here. He can’t find out. Not now.”
Aisha’s pulse quickened. She moved on before she could be seen, but one thing was certain—whatever secret Olivia was hiding, it was the reason so many maids had “failed.”
And Aisha was getting close to uncovering it.
A week later, Richard left for a two-day business trip. Olivia was in an unusually good mood that morning, humming as she poured herself a mimosa.
By evening, she was gone—no note, no explanation.
Aisha used the opportunity. She entered the master suite under the guise of changing bed linens, but her real purpose was to search.
She started with the walk-in closet. Behind a row of gowns, she found a small, locked drawer. Using a hairpin, she managed to open it. Inside was a slim envelope—hotel receipts, each one from nights Richard was at home, all signed under a different man’s name.
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