She heard a familiar voice and turned to see Clinton and Cyrus standing over her. She recognized Cyrus as the master’s chauffeur.
What happened? Her heart skipped a beat in fear as she saw him, wondering what had happened and why he was there. The last thing she remembered was blacking out. Where am I?
Clinton noticed the fear in her eyes.
“You’re in the hospital,” he said. She quickly tried to sit up, but her body was too weak, so Clinton gently stopped her from moving.
“I should call the doctor,” Cyrus said as he went to inform him. They proceeded back to the ward to check on Blue.
After thoroughly examining her, the doctor informed them that she was out of danger and explained her situation. She was stunned when the doctor told her the cause of her non-stop purging and asked why she had done it. He hoped she would provide an explanation to prevent it from happening again.
“I didn’t do it,” was all she said.
“Thanks, doctor. Leave the rest to me,” Clinton said.
“Okay, we’ll prescribe some medication for her, and please check in with the nurse for the prescription later,” the doctor said before leaving.
Clinton turned to her after the doctor left. “Why did you try to kill yourself?” he asked in a tone that was neither friendly nor harsh.
Blue’s heart was heavy with fear and confusion. What the doctor had said meant the tea she drank was poisoned, and it was meant for Miss Clarisse. Her hands curled into fists as she took a deep breath, blinking repeatedly, unable to believe what she was processing.
“Why? Why would Sandra do that?” she kept asking herself in disbelief.
“Are you not going to speak?” Clinton’s voice jolted her out of her thoughts. “Hope you know your job is at stake here.”
“I…,” she stammered. “It was a mistake,” she said. “I had a runny stomach and wanted to relieve myself, so I took some medication to help with it. I must have mistaken it,” she continued, bowing her head in shame while sitting on the bed. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight. I should have just gone to the pharmacy,” she said, her eyes welling with tears.
Clinton took a deep breath and exhaled.
“We’ll discuss this more later,” he said, walking out of the ward. He turned to Cyrus. “Did you feel it?”
“Feel what?” Cyrus asked.
“Something’s off. She’s lying,” Clinton said, looking back at the ward one last time.
“It may be something personal,” Cyrus shrugged. “We should just make sure it doesn’t tarnish our master’s image. A maid committing suicide in his mansion isn’t good news at all. It’s either you fire her and keep an eye on her, or we find another solution.”
“Sure, we’ll do one of the two,” Clinton agreed with Cyrus.
While Blue sat in the room, her mind was still disturbed. She couldn’t believe what she was thinking. “I should ask her… it must have been some kind of… mistake?” she thought to herself. After a moment of hesitation, she decided to confront her.
Sandra walked into the kitchen, her presence commanding attention. She surveyed the scene, noting some maids cooking while others tidied up. Clearing her throat, she drew their attention, but they quickly returned to their tasks, avoiding any interaction. She made her way over to one of the maids who often delivered meals to the master alongside the chief maid.
“Hey,” she said, stopping beside the maid.
“Hi, Sandra,” the maid replied, “what are you doing here?”
“Running some personal errands.”
“Personal errands?” the maid raised an eyebrow.
“Haha, just kidding. I’m running errands for the chief maid.”
“Oh, is he back?”
“Not yet, but he’ll be back soon.”
“Okay, so what’s the message?”
“You don’t have to serve the master tonight. I’ll do it.”
“What?!” The maid stopped drying the dishes, turning fully towards Sandra in surprise.
“Why do you want to do that? You have your own task,” the maid asked, sounding irritated. “Are you trying to take my job from me?”
“Yes, I have my own task, and trust me, I hate doing this. But, as you know, I’m the master’s wife’s maid, and it was instructed of me to bring the meal when they arrived,” Sandra said, folding her arms beneath her chest.
“But the chief didn’t tell me anything, and they’re not even back yet.”
“Are you implying that I’m lying?” Sandra’s tone sharpened.
“No, I’m just saying…” the maid hesitated.
“The chief called. He told Bree to inform me.” Sandra’s voice was smooth, but firm.
“But Bree is sick. Is she okay now?”
“Bree is fine.”
The maid frowned, clearly uneasy but sighed. “Sure, whatever the chief maid says.”
“Okay, then,” Sandra smirked. At that moment, they heard the sound of the master’s arrival. Sandra’s heart leapt with excitement, anticipation, and joy.
Finally, he’s back,” Sandra grinned inwardly as she dusted off her gown, straightened herself, and made sure her hair was neatly arranged. With a sense of anticipation, she walked out to the sitting room to join the other maids in welcoming him.
She stood among the others, her excitement growing with each passing second. She couldn’t wait to see him, the man who had kept her heart racing for months. His perfect body, the face she couldn’t stop dreaming about, the man whose arms she longed to be in…
He walked in-but with another woman in his arms. A frail figure, peacefully sleeping against his chest. Another woman, in his arms.
All the excitement and eagerness she had felt evaporated in an instant, replaced by a surge of anger and hatred. Her fist clenched tightly as she glared at Clarisse, the woman Christian was holding, but one of the maids quickly nudged her, urging her to bow.
When they were out of sight, the other maids left, but Sandra stayed. Slowly, she stood up and glared in the direction they had gone.
“Why is she here? Why is she not dead? Or in the hospital?” she muttered to herself, gritting her teeth.
“I’m not giving up. Not yet,” she whispered under her breath.
“Give up? On what?” a maid overheard her, but Sandra shot her a cold look.
“Mind your own business,” she snapped, her anger evident as she hissed and walked away. “Tsk, who does she think she is?” the maid muttered as she walked off.
Sandra headed to Clarisse’s room, where the door was slightly ajar. She peeked inside, watching as Christian carefully tucked Clarisse into bed, treating her like a delicate child. Sandra’s eyes narrowed in fury as she watched him, but she remained hidden from view.
As Christian walked toward the door, Sandra quickly ducked into an alcove, her heart racing in her chest, fearing that he had caught her. When he turned toward his room, she let out a breath of relief.
“That was close,” she exhaled. “Now it’s my chance,” she muttered to herself. “She might be here, but that won’t stop my plan.”
With renewed determination, she made her way to the kitchen, preparing a tray of desserts and juice. She carefully placed them on the tray and made her way to his room.
“This must go well. It has to go well,” Sandra reassured herself with every step. “Tonight, he’s mine.”
With the tray in her hand, Sandra knocked on the door, but there was no response. Unsure of what to do next, she nervously opened the door slightly and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind her.
Turning around, her jaw dropped, and her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as she stared at the man before her, shirtless. The dim light accentuated his bare skin, and his stunning abs only made her want to touch them. He looked breathtaking, and for a moment, she forgot how to close her mouth.
“What are you doing?” His cold, vibrant voice snapped her out of her trance, and she quickly bowed, a smug smirk playing on her lips.
“Good evening, my lord!”
“I asked what you are doing here,” he replied, his tone sharp and impatient.
“I’m sorry, my lord, for barging in. I brought you this dessert because I thought you might be stressed after what happened with madame,” she said, maintaining her bowed position.
Christian studied her carefully, one of his eyes twitching in suspicion. He sat down, not breaking eye contact. “My wife?”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.