Falling for the wrong mark : The maids game

Lunch on a stone bench

​Moving into the east wing of the Vance estate was like stepping onto the set of a movie where I had no business being cast. My room was larger than the apartment Jane and I shared, complete with a private bathroom, plush carpets, and a window that overlooked the sprawling western gardens.

​By noon on my first official live-in day, the technical side of the job was already in full swing.

​I had successfully planted Jane’s hardware tap behind the mahogany desk in Richard Vance’s private study while he was out on a conference call. Jane had texted me ten minutes later with a single emoji: a green checkmark. Phase one was complete. The tap was live, mirroring data packets and probing the estate’s secure subnet.

​My next task, according to the strict itinerary Jane had mapped out for me, was to use my afternoon break to study Richard’s personal routine memorizing his phone codes, observing when he accessed his private wall safe, and finding a way to get close enough to secure his biometric tokens.

​Instead, the moment my mandatory two-hour rest break began, I found myself slipping through the back glass doors and heading straight toward the rose conservatory.

​I told myself I was just getting fresh air. I told myself I was reconnoitering the perimeter security cameras. But as my flats crunched over the gravel pathway, my heart rate quickened for a completely different reason.

​I found Ethan near the ancient stone fountain at the center of the hedge maze. He was kneeling on an old canvas mat, wearing a faded gray t-shirt and dirt-streaked jeans, carefully pruning a row of white hydrangeas. The afternoon sun hit the gold highlights in his hair and for a second, I just stood there, completely paralyzed by how breathtakingly handsome he looked in the raw, unpolished daylight.

​He turned, wiping his brow with the back of his forearm and his face lit up the moment he saw me.

​"Sharon," he said, his deep voice carrying a sudden, warm brightness. He stood up, dusting off his knees. "I was hoping I’d run into you today. How’s day one treating you?"

​"It’s... overwhelming," I admitted, stepping closer and letting out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "The house is huge. Mr. Vance is extremely particular about his library, and I’m pretty sure the head housekeeper watches my every move."

​Ethan chuckled softly, a rich, melodic sound that seemed to chase away all the heavy tension resting on my shoulders. "Yeah, Richard... I mean, Mr. Vance... can be a bit of a tyrant. He likes everything in its exact place. Control is his favorite hobby."

​"You can say that again," I murmured, leaning against the edge of the stone fountain. "Men like him think the whole world is just something they can buy, control or clean up."

​Ethan paused, watching me with a quiet, intense curiosity in his hazel eyes. He reached down into a small wooden crate sitting beside his tools and pulled out a simple brown paper bag.

​"I was just about to take my lunch break," he said, holding up the bag with a shy, charming smile. "I’ve got two turkey sandwiches, a couple of apples, and some cold lemonade. Want to join me? There’s a bench under the willow tree that has the best shade on the whole property."

​My conscience instantly screamed at me. Jane is waiting for security updates. You’re supposed to be watching Richard’s study window. You’re supposed to be working.

​"I’d love to," I heard myself say.

​We walked together to a weathered stone bench tucked beneath the trailing branches of a massive weeping willow tree. The leaves formed a green curtain around us, hiding us completely from the main house and the security cameras. It felt like stepping into a completely different world a place where Richard Vance’s billions and Jane’s lines of code couldn't touch us.

​Ethan sat down next to me, unwrapping a sandwich and handing it to me on a paper napkin.

​"It’s not five-star catering," he said with a small grin. "Just homemade."

​"It’s perfect, Ethan. Thank you," I said, taking a bite. It really was good, but honestly, I could have been eating cardboard and it would have tasted like a feast just sitting next to him.

​"So, Sharon," Ethan began, leaning back against the stone, his eyes searching my face with gentle interest. "What brings a girl like you to a place like this? Working for old-money billionaires isn't exactly a dream job."

​I swallowed, looking down at my lap, carefully crafting a half-truth. "Survival, mostly. My best friend and I... we’ve had to fight for everything we have. No safety nets, no rich relatives. I take these housekeeping jobs because the pay is reliable and right now, I need enough money to go back to school."

​"School?" Ethan asked, his voice soft with genuine warmth. "What do you want to study?"

​"Nursing," I said, and for the first time in months, saying it aloud didn't feel like a pipe dream. "I want to do something real. Something where I’m actually helping people instead of just dusting expensive nonsense for people who don't even notice I’m in the room."

​Ethan went completely still. He stared at me, a look of profound, quiet awe washing over his face. He reached out, his warm, rough fingers gently brushing against my knuckles on the stone bench. The touch sent a violent, electrifying shiver straight down my spine.

​"That’s incredible, Sharon," he whispered, his hazel eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch. "You have a good heart. It’s rare to find someone around here who actually cares about doing something meaningful."

​He paused, looking back toward the distant silhouette of the main mansion through the willow leaves. "I see people come through these gates every day. Men like Richard Vance, their corporate associates, the women who throw themselves at them... all they care about is status, cars, offshore accounts, and power. They’re hollow. They use people up and throw them away."

​"I hate them," I blurted out, the raw truth slipping past my lips before I could stop it. "I hate rich, fake people who think money gives them the right to play with other people's lives."

​Ethan looked back at me, a slow, breathtaking smile spreading across his face. In his mind, he was looking at a girl who was completely pure a hard-working maid who saw right through the illusion of wealth and loved the simple things in life. He didn't know he was looking at a gold digger who had come to rob his family blind.

​"You really mean that, don't you?" Ethan asked, his voice thick with an emotion I couldn't fully comprehend.

​"With all my heart," I said softly, touching his hand in return.

​We sat there under the willow tree for another half hour, talking about simple things favorite movies, music, and memories laughing quietly while the afternoon sun drifted across the sky. For thirty minutes, I wasn't a scam artist and he wasn't a gardener. We were just two people falling hopelessly in love in the shade of a mansion.

​My phone buzzed violently in my apron pocket, shattering the spell.

​I pulled it out, hiding the screen from Ethan.

It was a text from Jane:

WHERE ARE YOU? RICHARD JUST LEFT HIS OFFICE UNATTENDED. GET THE SAFE CODES NOW.

​A cold spike of panic and guilt drove through my chest.

​"Is everything alright?" Ethan asked, noticing the sudden change in my posture.

​"Yeah," I lied, standing up quickly and smoothing down my apron, unable to meet his eyes. "Duty calls. I... I have to get back inside before the head housekeeper notices I’m missing."

​Ethan stood up with me, stepping close enough that I could smell the fresh scent of cedar and rain on his skin. "I’ll see you tomorrow, Sharon? Same time?"

​"Same time," I whispered.

​I turned and hurried back toward the mansion, my pulse hammering against my ribs. As I pushed open the glass doors of the east wing, my phone buzzed again.

​Jane: Why did it take you so long to reply? You were supposed to be monitoring his study.

​I typed back with trembling fingers, hiding the truth from my best friend for the very first time in my life:

Sorry. Got delayed scrubbing the guest bathrooms. Moving into position now.

​I pocketed the phone, leaning against the cold hallway wall, my heart torn violently in two. I was lying to Jane, manipulating Richard, and falling head over heels for a broke garden boy completely blind to the fact that the garden boy was the heir to the very empire I was trying to burn down.