The maid’s secret

CHAPTER TEN

Amelia’s POV

Lately, I couldn’t shake the feeling.

Everywhere I went in the mansion, I felt eyes on me. Heavy, sharp, lingering. I’d glance up suddenly, but there’d be nothing there—just the hum of silence and the endless stretch of polished marble floors.

Still, the weight of that gaze pressed on my skin, raising goosebumps.

Was I imagining it? Or was someone truly watching me?

I tried to push the thought away. I had more important things to worry about—like Lily. My daughter had grown quieter in recent days, her little smiles laced with secrets. She still slipped food into her pockets, tucked cookies into her dress, and I noticed the way she disappeared at odd hours.

At first, I thought she was sneaking to the garden. But tonight, as I carried a basket of linens down the hallway, I caught her tiptoeing past, Daisy the doll tucked under her arm, a packet of biscuits in her hand.

“Lily,” I called softly.

She froze, guilty, but when I stepped toward her, she giggled nervously. “I’m just… going to play, Mama!”

Before I could press her, she darted down the corridor.

My heart sank. Not again.

This time, I followed.

Her small feet padded across the cold tiles, quick and determined. She moved with the certainty of a child who’d done this before. My breath caught as she turned down the hall toward the east wing—the wing no staff dared to linger in.

Toward his study.

My pulse quickened.

I stopped just short of the door, pressing myself against the wall as she pushed it open a crack and slipped inside.

Voices drifted out.

Damian’s low, commanding timbre—and Lily’s soft, bright chatter.

“…You came back,” his voice rumbled.

“I brought you something!” Lily said cheerfully. “Don’t tell Mama, okay? She’ll be mad if she knows I gave away my snacks.”

I clutched the linen basket tighter, my breath shallow.

“You shouldn’t be giving them to me,” Damian replied, though his tone wasn’t harsh—just… strange. Almost gentle.

“I want to,” Lily insisted. “You look lonely, Mister Damian. And snacks make everything better.”

There was silence for a long moment. Then, his voice again—quiet, almost reluctant.

“…Thank you.”

My heart pounded in my chest. Lily. With him.

The ruthless master of the house, feared by everyone, was sitting in his study… sharing cookies with my daughter.

And I stood outside, paralyzed. Shocked. Terrified.

I stood there, pressed against the wall, my breath caught in my throat. Every instinct screamed at me to rush in, to pull Lily into my arms and away from him.

But my legs refused to move.

What would happen if I stormed in? What if Damian thought I was spying on him? People had been dismissed for less, thrown out of the mansion without a second thought. And if I lost this job… what then? What would happen to Lily?

Her little giggle carried through the door, light and innocent. “You didn’t eat your biscuit yet. Don’t just stare at it—take a bite!”

A pause. Then his deep voice, reluctant but almost amused: “…Bossy little thing.”

Lily giggled louder.

My heart clenched. She shouldn’t be there. She shouldn’t be near him. And yet… he wasn’t scolding her. He wasn’t the cold, ruthless man the staff whispered about. His voice was softer, unfamiliar.

I leaned closer, careful not to make a sound.

“You know,” Lily said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I think you’re not as scary as everyone says.”

For a long moment, there was silence on his end. Then, low and rough: “…They shouldn’t have told you that.”

“They did,” she replied simply. “But I don’t believe them. You’re nice. Just lonely.”

The words pierced through me, leaving me shaken. My little girl—speaking so freely to a man who could destroy us both with a single command.

I pressed a trembling hand against my mouth, fighting the urge to cry out, to stop her.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

Because if Damian knew I was there, if he realized Lily’s mother was standing outside his door, he might begin asking questions. And the one thing I could never afford was for him to look too closely at us.

So I stood frozen in that hallway, listening as my daughter unknowingly threaded herself deeper into the life of the most dangerous man I’d ever met.

And I stayed silent.