Love Across Class

Chapter 3: Secret Burdens.

He was tall, slim, and sharp-featured, dressed in a tailored and expensive gray suit that he wore more like armor than fashion. A camera hung around his neck like a weapon, and the scowl on his face sent shivers down her spine.

"I have been dying to meet you," he said, his voice silky with deceitful charm.

Evelyn's breath caught. Her instincts led her to run.

"Who are you?" she said, taking a step back.

He lifted his hand as if he meant no harm. "Relax, Miss Hart. I am not here to hurt you. Quite the contrary. We can help each other.

She narrowed her eyes. "You are the one who sent the message."

He nodded shamelessly. "Guilty. A formal introduction throughout the day would be... difficult.

She clenched her fists at her sides. "You are a reporter."

"Photojournalist," he said, removing an imaginary lint from his sleeve. "I am Miles Carter. I work for a few large magazines, mostly on a freelance basis. Human interest. Scandals. Secrets. You know what people want to read.

"I have absolutely nothing to say to you."

He laughed softly. "You already do, Miss Hart." Or, more particularly, you did as soon as the item hit the wire."

Evelyn felt her tummy flip.

"You lied," she said coldly. "That article was fiction."

Miles tilted his head. "Was that all?" Evelyn, the public was not interested in the whole truth. They value emotions, tension, and drama. You and Wolfe? You are clickbait gold. Innocent maid. "Cold billionaire." It writes itself.

"You have ruined my life.

"No," he said gently. "I have disclosed your life. And in return, I would like to offer you an alternative."

Evelyn gazed at him, her heart racing.

"I know you are hiding something," he said. Something huge. What is your job here? It is just the surface. "You are moonlighting, right?" I have been digging.

Evelyn froze.

He smiled even more when he saw it hit. "I know about the club."

Her throat tightened. "You do not know anything."

"I know enough." The Red Key is an expensive piano bar in Midtown. You wait tables, sing, and sometimes serve the affluent. "Not a place for the average maid."" So either you have expensive habits or you are desperate."

Evelyn's eyes blazed with rage. "How dare you follow me?"

"How dare you let your life become so exciting?" he said quietly. "And here's the fun part, if you do not want this to be tomorrow's front-page update, maybe you could email me something else."

She shivered now, not because of fear but because she was enraged.

"I am not your story," she said. "I am a human." I work three jobs to help fund my brother's medical bills. I do not owe you anything.

Miles' eyelids twitched at the word "brother." Curiosity, maybe even sympathy. But it passed.

"Then make me go away," he said calmly. "Give me something better."

Evelyn turned away, her lips tight and her fingers white-knuckled at her sides.

"I have done talking to you," she said.

Miles did not prevent her from going away. But, as she disappeared under the garden gate, his words drifted after her like smoke.

"Evelyn, you are stronger than you look. But you are no longer invisible. "Neither is your brother."

Her blood turned cold.

She did not sleep that night. Again.

When she returned to her room, she checked on Liam, her seventeen-year-old brother and the center of her existence. She opened the folder in her drawer, which included his most recent test results, tuition papers, scholarship essays, and medical bills. Ink and paper describe a life on the edge.

He wanted to study mechanical engineering. Build something that will last. Be the first in their family to go to college. But his kidneys had other plans. Dialysis was draining, both physically and financially.

She had been holding the line for three years since their parents died in a car accident. She took on the roles of his sister, mother, and provider at once.

Stephen Wolfe was ignorant of this. Nobody did in his luxurious cocoon.

To the world, she was just the "maid who got caught."

The next night, soon after ten p.m., Evelyn slipped out of the staff exit.

She took off her cleaning outfit, revealing a simple black dress that suited her body and low shoes she could run in if required. She took off her makeup and applied something gentler. No perfume. Nothing very remarkable.

The Red Key was only accessible to members and their guests in a renovated hotel piano bar concealed behind velvet curtains and towering walls. Celebrities, CEOs, and politicians sipped cocktails in covered seats while jazz musicians played classics in the background.

Evelyn was not chosen for her voice, despite having one. She was chosen because she could move unnoticed and knew when to quiet up.

Renee, the manager, approached her, holding a clipboard and frowning.

"You are late," Renee said, eyeing the clock.

"Only for three minutes."

"In this location, three minutes might be the difference between a tip and a lawsuit. Table 7 requires a new bottle of Glenlivet. And "she went closer," Wolfe's colleague returned to the back room. "No instructions; I simply want privacy."

Evelyn dropped. "Julian?", Renee raised her eyebrow. "I did not ask for your name."

Evelyn knew, however. Julian's been here before. Once or twice. Never be rude. Always wonderful. But it came too close.

Too close to Stephen Wolfe.

She worked her shift in a whirl of dim lighting and mumbled conversations, balancing trays while smiling. Her feet ached. Her back throbbed. However, she made it to the last hour without incident.

Until she passed the back lounge and saw him.

It was Julian.

He sat alone, clutching a glass of scotch and reading on his phone. He seemed fatigued and older than he did at the house. She halted at the entrance, unsure whether to turn away.

He looked up. Their eyes met. Julian blinked. Then he set down his drink.

"I was wondering when you would come over," he said gently.

Evelyn sighed and moved ahead. "It is my second job. "Please do not tell him.

"I assumed as much," he said. "Your secrets are safe with me."

She gave him a stern look. "Why are you here?"

"Honestly? I needed a break from Stephen's shenanigans. And I might see you.

Her heart tightened. "Why?"

He cast a look away. "Because you deserve more than this."

Evelyn was unsure what to say.

Julian stood up and pulled something from his coat. He handed her the packet.

"What is this?"

"Proof that you are being set up," he said. "Stephen is not aware that I am delivering it to you. "Be careful."

Before she could respond, he was already walking away.

Back in her shared room, she ripped open the envelope in the fading light.

There were printed copies of private text messages, time-stamped emails, and a blurry image of a woman chatting with a man in a black hat. Initially, they had little relevance.

But then her eyes rested on a single name.

Vanessa Blake.

Stephen's previous fiancé.

The one who vanished from his life under mysterious circumstances. Everyone muttered about it.

And just next to her name came another familiar name.

Miles Carter, journalist.

Evelyn's hands trembled as she perused the message thread.

Vanessa makes her seem like a gold-digging tramp. Wolfe will throw her out. He despised betrayal. Miles are easy. She already works at the mansion. The angle writes itself. Vanessa, Good. I want to burn him because of what he did to me.

Evelyn gasped. Her heart raced in her chest. It was not arbitrary. It was more than press curiosity.

She was the target. Stephen did not know. She thought that he didn't.

Her eyes scanned the last page, the last line written in Julian's handwriting.

"The walls have ears. Be wary of who you trust, even him."

Suddenly, a loud knock occurred on her door.

She slipped the papers under the mattress and rose to her feet.

Another knock. This time, the task is more difficult. She opened it softly.

It was not Julian. It was not Stephen.

It was a stranger. Dressed in a black suit. The eyes are empty. The posture is stiff.

"Miss Hart?" he asked.

She nodded nervously. "You have to join us. Now."

"Why? Who sent you?

He did not react. Instead, two more people approached him, clothed in black suits.

One of them reached for her arm. Evelyn stepped back.

"What is this?" "Who are you?"

However, the man's expression remained unchanged.

"Orders from Mr. Wolfe. He wants to see you. Alone. Immediately."

And before she could argue, the corridor went dark behind her.