Chapter 2 - The Cold Marble Of The Foyer
The silence that fell across the grand foyer of the Sterling estate was heavy, suffocating, and colder than the autumn rain outside.
I lay on the marble floor, my light blue scrub uniform wrinkled and damp, clutching my one-year-old son Ethan tightly against my chest.
My stomach burned with an agonizing pain from the kick Victoria had delivered moments before my husband, Mark Sterling, stepped into the room.
Victoria stood in her crimson red designer dress, her hands trembling in a masterful performance of fake, panicked terror as she pointed at me.
Mark looked down at us, his charcoal grey overcoat still wet from the rain, his dark eyes shifting frantically between his wife and me.
He knew me only as Clara—the quiet, hardworking maid who had spent six months cleaning the thirty-room mansion for his wealthy family.
He had no idea that the baby I was holding was his biological son, born from a secret marriage we had hidden five years ago.
“Mark, thank God you’re home!” Victoria sobbed, taking a frantic step toward him with crocodile tears spilling down her cheeks.
“She tried to drop Ethan down the wooden stairs! I tried to stop her, and she attacked me!” Victoria lied, her voice pitched high with hysteria.
Mark took a step forward, his heavy dress shoes clicking sharply against the polished marble floor as he stared down at my bruised face.
I didn't cower, nor did I lower my eyes to play the role of the submissive domestic worker they expected me to be.
I pulled Ethan closer, smoothing down his white onesie as I looked up at the man who had abandoned us for a corporate dynasty.
“She’s lying, Mark,” I said, my voice quiet, completely steady, and devoid of the fear Victoria had tried to kick into my ribs.
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“Check the security camera mounted right beside the framed American flag near the hallway entrance.”
Victoria’s frantic sobbing instantly stopped, her posture freezing as my words registered in the cold air of the foyer.
