The maid’s secret

CHAPTER SIX

DAMIAN’S POV

The boardroom was silent, except for the sound of my pen clicking against the polished table. Men twice my age sat stiff in their suits, eyes downcast, too afraid to breathe wrong in my presence.

“Your projections are sloppy,” I said, flicking through the pages of the quarterly report. My voice was flat, sharp as glass. “If you expect me to approve this, you’re wasting my time. Fix it. Today.”

The man across from me swallowed hard, nodding furiously.

I leaned back in my chair, scanning the room. Fear. Submission. That’s how it always was. That’s how I liked it. Business ran smoother when no one dared to question me.

And yet…

My pen stilled in my hand. The image that surfaced was not of contracts or balance sheets, but of wide brown eyes looking up at me without fear. A little voice asking if I was the king of the house.

I forced my jaw to tighten, irritation prickling beneath my skin. Why am I thinking about a child right now?

I flipped the page. Tried to focus on numbers. On profit margins. But another memory intruded—the quiet maid with downcast eyes. The way she looked at me in the study, pale and shaken, like she’d seen a ghost.

My brows furrowed. There was something about her. Something I couldn’t place.

“Sir?” one of the directors ventured, breaking the silence.

I snapped the folder shut, my glare silencing the man instantly. “This meeting is over.”

They scrambled to gather their things, relief etched into every face.

When the room finally emptied, I stayed seated, staring at the city skyline through the glass windows. The night stretched endlessly beyond, but my thoughts kept circling back to that little girl’s laughter. To the maid’s trembling voice.

By the time I returned to the mansion, the air felt different. Heavier. Normally, I walked straight to my study, avoiding everyone like the plague. But tonight, my steps slowed. My eyes searched the halls.

Ridiculous. I had no reason to.

And yet, I caught myself listening. Hoping.

For the sound of tiny footsteps.

For the voice that had dared to speak to me without fear.

Lily.

The corner of my mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but dangerously close.