The CEO's Beautiful Obsession

Chapter 3: Selling My Soul For Secrets

The rage from the night before hadn't dissipated; it had turned into a cold, hard diamond of resolve. Gabby had barely slept, her mind trapped in a loop of Grace’s innocent words and the haunting image of Lucas’s face on her phone screen.

The Ping! of her laptop at 7:00 AM felt like a starter pistol.

"I’ve got it!" Gabby yelled, stumbling toward her computer. She opened the email, her heart skipping a beat. It was the response to the private housekeeping and personal assistant application she’d sent out weeks ago to the Hargreeves Estate.

Miss Carter, your preliminary application has been reviewed. Please report to the North Gate Annex at 10:00 AM sharp for a formal interview. Dress accordingly.

A slow, dangerous smile spread across Gabby’s face. "The manor," she whispered to the empty room. " Hmm, free invitation to his castle."

Before she could storm the castle, she had to face the music at The Grind Cafe. Mr. Henderson was already purple-faced when she walked in ten minutes late.

"Don't even take off your coat, Gabby," he snapped, slamming a milk pitcher onto the counter. "You’re done. I told you yesterday that one more slip-up and you’d be out on the street."

"I need the next four hours off, Mr. Henderson," Gabby interrupted, her voice eerily calm. "Something more important came up."

"More important than your paycheck?" Henderson barked, stepping toward her. "You're being fired for being unserious! You’re a liability, Carter. You think people like you can just walk in and out when they feel like it?"

Gabby leaned over the counter, her eyes flashing with a fire he had never seen before. "Then fire me. But I’m leaving now. Keep the tips from yesterday; you clearly need the money more for your blood pressure medication than I do for this dead-end job."

She turned on her heel and walked out without looking back, leaving her manager sputtering in shocked silence.

The Hargreeves manor was a fortress of limestone and glass, perched on a hill like a crown. The interview took place in a secluded office in the North Annex, far from the main living quarters. The air inside smelled of expensive wax, cold stone, and ancient secrets.

The interviewer, a man named Mr. Gable with spectacles perched on the tip of his nose, didn't look up from Gabby’s resume for a long time.

"The position requires absolute discretion, Miss Carter," Mr. Gable said, his voice dry. "The Hargreeves family value their privacy above all else. We need to know about your flexibility. Are you tied down? Any... personal attachments? Boyfriends? Living situations that might interfere with late-night calls or emergency shifts?"

Gabby felt a lump in her throat, thinking of the small girl waiting for her at home. "No. No attachments. I live with a friend."

Mr. Gable finally looked up, his eyes piercing and suspicious. "And children? Let me be blunt: the Hargreeves household is no place for the distractions of a mother. A child’s fever, a school play, or a babysitter crisis cannot come before the family’s needs. Do you have any children, Miss Carter?"

Gabby’s hand clenched under the table, her nails digging into her palms until it hurt. She thought of Grace’s face, her little "Papa" wish, and the hospital bill she could never have paid on her own. To destroy the monster, she had to hide the treasure.

"No," Gabby said, her voice steady as a surgeon's. "I don’t have any children."

The lie felt like a lead weight in her stomach, but Mr. Gable simply nodded and checked a box on his form. "Good. We find that 'unencumbered' staff are much more... loyal. We will be in touch."

Gabby spent the rest of the day in a daze. She picked up Grace from school and held her just a little too tight, her heart aching with the weight of the lie she had told. That night, after Grace had drifted off to sleep dreaming of superheroes and birthday cake, Gabby sat at the kitchen table with Megan.

"I lied, Meg," Gabby whispered, staring into a steaming mug of tea. "I looked him in the eye and told him I don’t have a kid."

Megan gasped, nearly dropping her phone. "Gabby! If they find out—if he finds out—this isn't just a job. This is a Pandora’s box. Once you open it and step into that house, you can’t just close it when things get messy. What happens when Grace asks why you're never home?"

"I have to do this," Gabby hissed, her eyes filling with tears of rage. "He’s living in a palace while his daughter thinks he’s a ghost in a phone. He paid a hospital bill like it was pocket change, Meg. He has everything, and we have nothing because of what he did. I’m going to get inside, and I’m going to make him pay for every single tear I’ve shed in the last six years."

A few miles away, atop the highest penthouse of a luxury suite, Lucas stood on the balcony. A bottle of vintage champagne sat chilled beside him, but he hadn't poured a glass. He was staring at the city lights, the little girl’s voice echoing in his head like a haunting melody.

Mama stares at your picture...

"Who are you?" he muttered to the wind.

His phone buzzed on the railing. It was a message from his family’s private physician regarding his grandmother, the matriarch of the Hargreeves empire.

Lucas picked it up, his thumb sliding across the screen. As he read the lines, his eyes went wide, the color draining from his face.

Your Grandmother’s condition has shifted. She needs you now!

"No," he breathed, his grip tightening on the phone until the glass groaned under the pressure. "Not now.”