Chapter 1 - The Mask Falls
The billionaire pretended to leave for Canada... But what he witnessed on the hidden cameras between his housekeeper and his daughters left him completely frozen.
Chadworth Prescott switched off the lights in his study, picked up his leather suitcase, and said goodbye to his daughters as if the trip were completely real.
“I’ll only be gone for a few days,” he told them with a relaxed, rehearsed smile. “Be good for Sabina.”
The girls wrapped their arms tightly around his waist. They had no idea their father was pretending. The private jet never left the tarmac. There was no urgent business trip to Toronto. No hotel suite waiting for him overseas. Instead, less than an hour after his limousine vanished through the wrought-iron gates, the most powerful real estate tycoon in the city quietly slipped back through the mansion’s rear service entrance, accompanied only by his head of security, Marcus.
He had not come home to surprise anyone. He had come back to watch.
The night before, his fiancée, Sabina Vance, had leaned across the dining table, her diamonds catching the candlelight, dropped her voice, and whispered something that refused to leave his mind.
“You trust that maid far too much, Chad,” Sabina had said softly. “She’s stealing from your safe. And worse... she’s manipulating Lorelai and Gemma against me.”
Those words stayed with him throughout the night, slowly poisoning his thoughts. For four years, Chadworth had trusted Rosamund, the quiet young woman who kept his sprawling estate immaculate and cared for his motherless daughters. She was low-profile, polite, and moved through the house almost like a ghost. But Sabina’s persistent micro-accusations had finally cracked his foundation.
Now, sitting in a windowless security room tucked away near the wine cellar, Chadworth watched the wall of high-definition monitors. The screens cast a cool blue glow across his tense face.
“Cameras four, seven, and nine are live,” Marcus muttered, adjusting the audio gain.
On the central screen, Sabina walked into the sunlit living room where ten-year-old Lorelai and six-year-old Gemma were sitting on the expensive oriental rug. The second the door swung shut and Sabina believed the master of the house was airborne, her posture transformed. The warm, maternal smile evaporated. Her shoulders tightened, her jaw locked, and her eyes hardened into something downright cold.
“What did I tell you about leaving your toys on the rug?” Sabina’s voice cut through the room's high-end speakers, sharp enough to draw blood.
Both girls jumped instantly. They weren't just startled; they were conditioned. Lorelai scrambled to close her sketchpad, while little Gemma clutched her worn stuffed rabbit tightly to her chest.
Sabina marched over, snatched the stuffed animal from Gemma's hands, and tossed it callously into the grand marble fireplace.
“I’m tired of repeating myself,” Sabina snapped, her voice dripping with venom. “When your father isn’t here, you obey me immediately. Do you understand?”
Gemma’s lower lip trembled, but she didn't dare cry out loud. Lorelai immediately shifted her body, placing herself protectively in front of her little sister. In the dark security room, Chadworth stopped breathing. His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists on the armrests.
Then, Rosamund stepped into the frame, holding a basket of fresh laundry. She didn't raise her voice. She didn't start a scene. She simply walked over and placed her body directly between Sabina and the terrified children.
“Miss Sabina,” Rosamund said softly, keeping her hands visible and her tone completely neutral. “The girls were just about to put their things away. I’ll make sure the living room is clean before lunch.”
Sabina spun on the maid, her face distorted with rage. “Did I speak to you, housegirl? Know your place! You are a paid servant in this house, and your days here are numbered!”
Rosamund didn't flinch. She slowly knelt down, retrieved Gemma's rabbit from the unlit hearth, dusted it off, and handed it back to the little girl. Lorelai leaned into Rosamund's side, resting her forehead against the maid’s apron. The natural, instinctual way his daughters sought refuge in Rosamund—and shrank away from his fiancée—sent a sickening wave of horror crashing through Chadworth's chest.
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Sabina raised her hand, taking a step toward Rosamund. “Give me that toy!”
“No, Miss Sabina,” Rosamund said quietly, meeting the heiress’s furious gaze without a shred of fear. “Mr. Prescott asked me to take care of his daughters while he was away. And that is exactly what I intend to do.”
