Chapter Nine
850 Words
Amelia learned one thing quickly about Blackwood Estate.
The weather inside the mansion depended entirely on Ethan Blackwood’s mood.
When he was calm, the house breathed.
Margaret hummed while preparing breakfast.
The gardeners chatted outside.
The staff laughed quietly in the kitchen.
Even the security guards seemed more relaxed.
But when Ethan was angry…
Everyone felt it.
Today was one of those days.
Margaret knew it before sunrise.
At exactly 6:15 a.m., Ethan stormed downstairs.
No coffee.
No greeting.
No acknowledgment.
Just a man in a charcoal suit, carrying his laptop bag like he was heading into battle.
His jaw was tight.
His eyes dark.
And his phone was already ringing.
“Cancel lunch.”
Pause.
“No.”
“I don’t care what their excuse is.”
“We spent six months negotiating.”
“They don’t just walk away.”
Another pause.
“Get everyone into the conference room.”
“I’m ten minutes away.”
He ended the call.
Margaret placed his coffee on the counter.
“Breakfast?”
“No.”
“You haven’t eaten.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You said that yesterday.”
“And?”
“You nearly fainted last month.”
“I’m alive.”
“Barely.”
Ethan grabbed his coffee.
“Margaret.”
“Not today.”
She sighed.
“Fine.”
“But if you collapse, I’m telling your mother.”
He stopped.
Slowly turned around.
“Margaret.”
“My mother has been dead for ten years.”
Margaret’s expression softened.
“I know.”
“That’s why I’d tell her.”
For the briefest moment—
The anger in Ethan’s eyes dimmed.
Then he left.
The front door slammed shut.
Silence.
Margaret exhaled.
“He’s going to come back worse.”
Amelia looked up from folding towels.
“How can you tell?”
Margaret laughed.
“I’ve worked here six years.”
“When he skips breakfast, investors cry.”
“When he skips coffee, executives resign.”
“When he skips both…”
She crossed herself dramatically.
“God help us.”
Amelia chuckled.
She had no interest in billionaires.
Especially difficult ones.
She simply focused on her tasks.
Cleaning.
Laundry.
Dusting.
Working.
That was why she was here.
Not to understand Ethan Blackwood.
Certainly not to fix him.
Blackwood Technologies occupied the top twenty floors of a sleek glass tower overlooking Manhattan.
Inside the boardroom—
Tension hung heavier than the rain outside.
Eight executives sat quietly.
No one dared speak.
Ethan stood at the head of the table.
A presentation glowed behind him.
The words were impossible to ignore.
PROJECT NOVA
Acquisition Status:
FAILED
Six months.
Hundreds of hours.
Multiple international flights.
Millions in legal costs.
Gone.
A competitor had secured the deal.
A smaller company.
One Ethan had dismissed.
He slammed his tablet onto the table.
“No one saw this coming?”
Silence.
“I asked for market intelligence.”
Silence.
“I asked for contingency plans.”
Silence.
He laughed.
Coldly.
Interesting.”
“We employ some of the brightest minds in technology.”
“And yet…”
“We were blindsided.”
The Chief Financial Officer cleared his throat.
“They offered flexibility.”
“We offered acquisition.”
“They wanted partnership.”
Ethan stared.
“Then why wasn’t I told?”
The room became quieter.
His assistant shifted uncomfortably.
“Sir…”
“We thought—”
Ethan snapped.
“That’s the problem.”
“You thought.”
“I hired you to know.”
No one spoke.
No one moved.
Everyone understood one thing.
Ethan Blackwood hated failure.
Not because of money.
But because failure reminded him of things he couldn’t control.
His father’s bankruptcy.
His mother’s illness.
His fiancée leaving.
Loss.
Abandonment.
People leaving.
He hated losing.
And today—
He had lost.
Again.
By nine-thirty that night—
Blackwood Estate felt different.
Heavy.
Like everyone was waiting for an explosion.
The kitchen staff whispered.
Margaret lowered her voice.
“He’s been in his office since he came home.”
“No dinner.”
“No coffee.”
“No talking.”
One maid whispered.
“Did he yell?”
Margaret nodded.
“Three executives cried.”
The younger maid gasped.
“Seriously?”
“No.”
Margaret smirked.
“But they looked close.”
Amelia smiled.
People fascinated her.
Even billionaires.
Successful people always looked glamorous from afar.
But up close—
They were simply exhausted humans trying not to fail.
Margaret looked at Amelia.
“You’re quiet.”
Amelia shrugged.
“I wasn’t hired to solve billion-dollar problems.”
“I was hired to clean.”
“And cleaning pays.”
Margaret laughed.
“Fair enough.”
Later that night—
At 1:13 a.m.
Amelia sat cross-legged on her bed.
Laptop open.
TaskFlow glowing on the screen.
She adjusted invoices.
Fixed bugs.
Improved the user dashboard.
Added another feature.
Outside—
Rain tapped softly against the windows.
Down the hallway—
Ethan Blackwood sat alone in his office.
Staring at numbers.
Failed projections.
Missed opportunities.
And a deal he couldn’t get back.
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