The boss's maid

Untitled Episode.The 2am call

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*Chapter 5: The Late Night Call -

It was 2:17 AM when my phone rang.

Unknown Number.

I almost ignored it. Maids don’t get 2 AM calls from unknown numbers. Especially not maids who signed contracts to stay quiet and invisible.

Then it rang again. And again.

“Hello?” I whispered, sitting up in my tiny shared room. My roommates stirred. “Who is this?”

“Why are you awake.”

Henry’s voice. Low. Rough. Like gravel and whiskey. Like a man who hadn’t slept.

“Sir? Is everything okay?” My heart was already racing. “Did something happen at the penthouse?”

“No.” A long pause. I heard ice clinking in a glass. “Come to the office.”

“Now? Sir it’s 2 AM. The building is closed and—”

“Now, Anita.”

He hung up.

I stared at my phone. I should’ve said no. I should’ve blocked him. This wasn’t in the contract. Maids don’t get summoned in the middle of the night.

But 6 months. $50,000 to save my mom’s hospital bills. And that moment with the tea when he was gentle.

20 minutes later I was in a cab, speeding through empty Port Harcourt streets. The city was dark except for Wilson Tower glowing like a ghost in the sky.

The security guard let me up without question. “Mr. Wilson is expecting you, Miss.”

60th floor. His office.

The whole city was dark except for him. He stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, tie gone, top 3 buttons of his shirt undone, sleeves rolled up. There was a glass of whiskey in his hand and files scattered across his desk like he’d been throwing them.

“You called me here to drink alone?” I asked, closing the door softly.

He turned. His eyes were red. Not from sleep. From something worse.

“I fired someone today,” he said.

“Okay…”

“200 people. Just like that. One email. And they’re gone.” He took a drink. “And I came home to an empty penthouse and realized I don’t have anyone to call.”

My chest hurt. “You have assistants. Board members. Your CFO—”

“I have employees.” He set the glass down hard. “I have people who fear me. I have no one.”

The word hung in the air.

“Except you.”

The word hit me like the rain from Chapter 4.

“Henry—”

“Don’t.” He walked to me. Stopped 1 foot away. Close enough that I could smell his cologne and the whiskey and something uniquely him. “Just stay. 10 minutes.”

Rule #1 of our contract: No touching. No personal conversations.

He reached out and brushed his thumb under my eye.

“You look tired.”

“I am.”

“From me?”

“From wanting things I’m not supposed to want.” The truth slipped out.

His hand dropped. “What things?”

“You. Being kind. This.” I gestured between us. “Dinner. Tea. Caring if I’m cold.”

Henry stared at me for a long time. The city lights reflected in his eyes. For a second, the billionaire CEO was gone. He just looked... lonely.

“You know what the worst part is?” he said quietly. “I built all this.” He gestured to the tower, the city. “And I’d trade half of it to not feel this empty at 2 AM.”

I didn’t know what to say. So I did something stupid.

I stepped closer.

“Then don’t be empty,” I whispered. “Talk to me.”

His jaw ticked. “You don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“Then explain it to me.”

He laughed. No humor. “I can’t. Because if I start talking to you, Anita, I won’t stop. And if I don’t stop, I’ll break every rule I made.”

“Rule #1,” I whispered.

“Rule #1,” he repeated. Then he sighed and stepped back. Put distance between us. “Go home, Anita. Before I do something we’ll both regret.”

I nodded and ran. My heels clicked against the marble floor all the way to the elevator.

But his voice followed me, quiet:

“Thank you for coming.”

I didn’t sleep that night.

I laid in bed staring at the ceiling thinking about a powerful man who had everything and nothing. About how he looked at me like I was the only light in his dark tower.

About how dangerous that was.

Because this was supposed to be forced love.

Contract. Money. 6 months.

Not this. Not 2 AM calls. Not thumbs under my eyes.

Not the way my heart raced when he said “Except you.”

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