Three days into the worst snowstorm Chicago had seen in decades

I quickly learned to become invisible.

For the next month, I cleaned fourteen bedrooms and polished endless stretches of marble floors until my arms felt completely numb.

I carried heavy groceries, handled massive loads of laundry, and cooked whenever the personal chef was away.

I even reorganized a massive pantry that no one had properly touched in years.

My feet blistered terribly.

My back ached every single night.

I never complained once.

Adrian barely acknowledged my existence, treating me like a piece of furniture that occasionally moved.

Then one evening, one of his ruthless mafia associates came to the estate for dinner.

The man looked me up and down with a nasty sneer while I poured their expensive whiskey.

He laughed a cruel, barking sound.

"Cross, you hiring bodyguards as maids now?" the man asked.

Everyone at the dining table went completely quiet.

My hand froze tightly around the crystal bottle.

I looked at Adrian just once, silently waiting for him to say something.

He said nothing at all.

That absolute silence hurt far more than the associate's insult.

I left the dining room as quickly as I could before anyone could see my eyes burning with humiliated tears.

I sought refuge in an upstairs study that Adrian had always kept strictly locked.

I had found the master key earlier and decided to clean it just to stay busy and hidden.

While dusting the heavy oak desk, I noticed a framed photograph tucked inside a half-open drawer.

“Which daughter is yours?” should have been a harmless question

The first wineglass shattered at 8:07 p.m

The moment the mafia boss’s wife called me “an illiterate servant,”

It was a beautiful woman with dark hair and a warm, loving smile.

But as I reached out to touch the silver frame, the heavy study door violently slammed shut behind me.

Chapter 2 - The Silent House