Chapter Ten
912 Words
Blackwood Estate was eerily quiet the next morning.
Too quiet.
Margaret knew that silence.
It was dangerous.
She stood in the kitchen pouring coffee when Amelia walked in.
“Good morning.”
Margaret snorted.
“For you, maybe.”
Amelia glanced around.
“He’s still upset?”
Margaret looked offended.
“Upset?”
“Child, upset is when you miss your train.”
“Mr. Blackwood lost a seven-hundred-million-dollar acquisition.”
“He’s beyond upset.”
Amelia poured herself tea.
“He’ll survive.”
Margaret raised an eyebrow.
“You say that because you’re not presenting to investors this morning.”
Amelia smiled.
“Thankfully.”
At exactly 7:15 a.m., Ethan stormed downstairs.
Same charcoal suit.
Same unreadable expression.
Same untouched breakfast.
But today, he looked exhausted.
His eyes had dark circles beneath them.
His tie was crooked.
His hair wasn’t perfectly combed.
Margaret gasped.
“Oh dear.”
Ethan stopped.
“What?”
“You look human.”
Amelia nearly choked on her tea.
Ethan sighed.
“Margaret.”
“Not today.”
Margaret crossed her arms.
“Eat.”
“No.”
“Coffee.”
“No.”
“Half a muffin.”
“No.”
“An apple?”
“No.”
Amelia couldn’t help herself.
“You’re negotiating worse than investors.”
Ethan looked at her.
For a second—
Just a second—
His lips twitched.
Almost smiling.
Almost.
Then his phone buzzed.
He answered.
“What?”
Silence.
His expression hardened.
“What do you mean it won’t open?”
Pause.
“You tested it yesterday.”
Pause.
“I don’t care.”
“Fix it.”
He ended the call.
Margaret looked concerned.
“Problem?”
Ethan grabbed his laptop bag.
“My presentation file is corrupted.”
“The investor meeting starts in ninety minutes.”
“And my team apparently employs professional spectators.”
Then he was gone.
By noon—
Blackwood Estate felt like a war zone.
Executives were arriving.
Assistants were running.
Phones rang nonstop.
Margaret whispered to another maid.
“I’ve never seen him this angry.”
“Last time he was this angry, three managers resigned.”
Amelia folded towels.
She stayed quiet.
Not her business.
Not her problem.
She had laundry to finish.
A dashboard to code tonight.
And a brother waiting for tuition money.
At around one-thirty—
Margaret hurried in.
“Amelia.”
She looked up.
“Yes?”
“Can you take coffee to Mr. Blackwood’s office?”
Amelia froze.
“The office?”
Margaret nodded.
“Everyone else is scared.”
“He yelled at David.”
“He yelled at his assistant.”
“He yelled at the printer.”
“The printer?”
Margaret shrugged.
“It jammed.”
Amelia sighed.
“Fine.”
She picked up the tray.
Knocked once.
No response.
She knocked again.
Still nothing.
Slowly—
She opened the door.
The scene surprised her.
Ethan sat hunched over his desk.
Jacket discarded.
Sleeves rolled up.
Tie loosened.
Three laptops open.
Papers everywhere.
Coffee cups.
Sticky notes.
Half-eaten toast.
And frustration radiating from every corner.
He looked up.
“What?”
Margaret sent coffee.”
“I didn’t ask for coffee.”
“Margaret doesn’t seem to care.”
Silence.
Then—
He rubbed his forehead.
“Leave it there.”
Amelia placed the tray down.
She noticed one screen.
An error message.
Presentation File Damaged.
Recovery Failed.
She looked away.
Not my business.
She turned to leave.
Then Ethan spoke.
“Wait.”
She stopped.
“Do you know anything about corrupted files?”
Amelia inhaled slowly.
Dangerous question.
She should say no.
She should walk away.
She should remember why she was here.
Lucas.
MIT.
TaskFlow.
Freedom.
Instead—
She heard herself ask,
“Do you have a backup?”
“No.”
“Cloud sync?”
“Broken.”
“Version history?”
“No.”
She sighed.
“Okay.”
Ethan leaned back.
“Okay?”
She hesitated.
Then sat down.
“But if I fix this…”
She looked directly at him.
“You eat lunch.”
Ethan blinked.
“What?”
“You haven’t eaten.”
“You look terrible.”
“So my condition is lunch.”
Silence.
Then—
For the first time all week—
Ethan smiled.
A real smile.
Small.
Unexpected.
Dangerously handsome.
“Fine.”
“I’ll eat.”
Amelia extended her hand.
“Laptop.”
He stared.
“You negotiate with billionaires now?”
She shrugged.
“I learned from watching one.”
He handed over the laptop.
Ten minutes passed.
Twenty.
She worked quietly.
Calmly.
Methodically.
Ethan watched.
No panic.
No drama.
No complaints.
Just focus.
Like she’d done this a hundred times before.
Then—
She clicked one button.
The presentation appeared.
Perfect.
Complete.
Recovered.
Ethan sat upright.
“How?”
Amelia stood.
“You autosaved a hidden cache file.”
“You just didn’t know where to look.”
Silence.
Heavy silence.
Ethan slowly looked at her.
Gray eyes narrowing.
Studying.
Analyzing.
The same way investors studied markets.
The same way founders studied opportunities.
“Amelia.”
“Yes?”
“Who exactly are you?”
She smiled.
Just enough.
“Your housekeeper.”
And before he could ask another question—
She walked away.
Leaving Ethan Blackwood staring at his recovered presentation.
And wondering—
Why did his maid solve in twenty minutes what his entire tech team couldn’t solve in six hours?
- Writer
