The elevator chimed.
Kaylee looked up from polishing the grand staircase as heels clicked across the marble. Sharp, deliberate.
Victoria Langford.
Media heiress. Socialite. Clarence's fiancée.
And danger wrapped in couture.
“Charming," Victoria said, her voice syrupy. “So this is the maid everyone's whispering about."
Kaylee straightened. “I clean floors. I don't entertain rumors."
Victoria's smile was all teeth. “Darling, you are the rumor."
She held out a small silk-wrapped box.
Kaylee didn't move.
“Go on," Victoria said sweetly. “A gift. To hide those scars."
Kaylee opened it. Designer gloves—ivory, delicate, expensive.
“Your pity is insulting," she said flatly.
“My pity?" Victoria chuckled. “No, sweetheart. This is strategy. No one wants to see ruined hands near champagne
