The Billionaire's Maid

Sophie's POV "Sophie!" Mary's voice echoed through the mansion. I froze in the middle of the kitchen, my hands still covered in soapy water. "Sophie!" she called again. "How many times do I have to call you?" I quickly rinsed my hands and wiped them against the old apron tied around my waist. "I'm coming." I hurried into the dining room. Mary was sitting comfortably at the table, scrolling through her phone while Rachel and Kiara were busy laughing over something. The moment Mary saw me, she frowned. "Where have you been?" "I was washing the dishes." "And who asked you to wash them?" I stared at her. "You did." She rolled her eyes. "Then why did it take you so long?" I lowered my gaze. "I'm sorry." Rachel laughed. "She is always saying sorry." Kiara joined her. "Maybe she thinks saying sorry will make her special." Their laughter filled the room. I clenched my fingers beneath my apron. Once upon a time, they wouldn't have dared speak to me like this. Once upon a time, this had been my home. I had been the daughter of the house. The girl who had everything. The girl who never had to worry about money, clothes or food. But that life disappeared with my mother. My name is Sophie Lane. I am twenty years old, and if you had met me before everything changed, you probably wouldn't recognize the girl standing in this kitchen. I was raised by loving parents. My mother was a successful businesswoman, and my father, Michael Lane, was the man I once believed was the best father in the world. We lived comfortably because of my mother's success. I attended a good school. I had beautiful clothes. I traveled with my parents. And whenever I wanted something, my mother somehow found a way to give it to me. She was my best friend. Until one evening, I heard my parents arguing. I was sixteen. I had just returned from school and was walking past their bedroom when I heard my mother's voice. "You promised me, Michael." I stopped. My father's voice followed. "Lower your voice." "What are you afraid of?" "I said we'll discuss this later." I moved closer to the door. My heart began beating faster. My parents rarely argued. "What happened to the money?" my mother asked. There was silence. Then my father said something I couldn't hear. I was about to knock when the door suddenly opened. My father stood there. His face changed when he saw me. "Sophie?" I stepped back. "Dad..." He forced a smile. "What are you doing here?" "I heard you and Mom." "Your mother and I were just discussing business." He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Go to your room." I looked past him. My mother's eyes were red. She had been crying. "Mom?" She quickly wiped her face. "I'm fine, sweetheart." But she wasn't. I knew she wasn't. That night, I couldn't sleep. Something was wrong. And I was right. A few weeks later, I returned home from school and found several people gathered outside our house. My heart dropped. I ran inside. "Dad?" Nobody answered. I rushed through the sitting room and saw my father surrounded by people. His face was pale. "Where is Mom?" He didn't answer. "Dad, where is Mom?" One of the women beside him began crying. That's when I knew. Something terrible had happened. My father finally looked at me. "Sophie..." I shook my head. "No." He walked toward me. "No, Dad. Where is Mom?" He reached for me, but I stepped backward. "Where is she?" His lips trembled. "Your mother is gone." The room spun. "What do you mean?" He looked away. "She died this morning." I don't remember what happened after that. I only remember screaming. I remember running. I remember collapsing onto the floor and begging God to wake me from the nightmare. My mother was gone. The woman who had promised to watch me graduate was gone. The woman who had promised to travel with me during the holidays was gone. Gone. At her funeral, I couldn't let go of her coffin. "Mom, please..." My voice broke. "Please wake up." People tried to pull me away, but I refused. Then I noticed something. A woman was standing beside my father. She was watching him closely. She looked strangely comfortable around him. I didn't know who she was. But I remembered her face. A few days later, my father brought her home. She wasn't alone. Two girls came with her. They looked around my house as though they already belonged there. The woman smiled at me. "Sophie, this is Mary." I stared at her. She smiled again. "And these are my daughters, Rachel and Kiara." I looked at my father. He avoided my eyes. Something inside me tightened. Why were they here? Why did Mary behave as if she belonged in our home? And why was my father looking at her the way he used to look at my mother? I wanted to ask. But I couldn't. Days passed. Mary became more comfortable in the house. She started making decisions. She moved things around. She entered my mother's room. She even began wearing some of my mother's clothes. I couldn't understand why my father allowed it. Then one evening, I walked into the dining room and found Mary sitting beside my father. Rachel and Kiara were opposite them. My father cleared his throat. "Sophie, sit down." I slowly sat. He looked nervous. "Sophie, there's something I need to tell you." My heart started pounding. "What is it?" He looked at Mary. Then back at me. "Mary and I are married." I stared at him. For a moment, I couldn't breathe. "What?" Mary smiled. "We wanted to tell you sooner." I looked at my father. "You married her?" He nodded. "But Mom has barely been gone..." "Sophie," he interrupted. "Don't." I pushed my chair backward. "You married her?" My voice cracked. Mary reached for my hand. "Sweetheart, I know this is difficult—" "Don't call me sweetheart." Her smile disappeared. My father stood. "Enough." I looked at him. "Is that why you brought them here?" Nobody answered. My eyes moved from Mary to Rachel and Kiara. They were smiling. Not sadly. Not sympathetically. They were smiling as if they had won something. That was the moment I realized something. My mother's death had changed more than my family. It had changed my entire life. But I didn't know the worst part yet. The next morning, Mary walked into my room carrying a large box. She dropped it on my bed. "Pack your things." I stared at her. "Why?" She smiled coldly. "Because this room is no longer yours." I looked at her in disbelief. Then she said something that made my blood run cold. "From today, you're going to start earning your place in this house." I stared at her. "How?" Mary pointed toward the door. "By working." And that was how I became a maid in my own home.