Chapter 1 - THE WRONG WOMAN
The billionaire’s son walked past three women dressed to become his new mother, grabbed my maid’s uniform, and called me “Mommy.”
Four hundred people heard him.
For one terrible second, nobody moved.
Then the room erupted.
Phones rose above the white roses. A champagne glass shattered against the marble. Somewhere behind me, a woman whispered, “Is that the maid?”
I was holding a silver tray. Five-year-old Noah Sterling had both arms locked around my waist.
“Come on, sweetheart,” I whispered. “Let’s go somewhere quiet.”
“No.” He pressed his tear-streaked face against me. “I choose you.”
I looked toward his father.
Alexander Sterling stood beneath the ballroom’s towering flower arch, his face drained of color. Beside him were the three women his mother had invited for what she called a family introduction. Everyone else knew what it was. One of them was supposed to become Alexander’s wife and Noah’s new mother.
Vanessa Caldwell wore diamonds that could have paid my rent for years. Madeline Royce had spent the evening smiling for cameras. Claire Whitmore stood slightly apart, looking as uncomfortable as I felt.
And Noah had walked right past them.
“Why Emma?” Eleanor Sterling asked.
Noah tightened his grip.
“She stays when I’m scared.”
The words hit harder than the glass hitting the floor.
I had worked at Sterling House for eight months. I knew Noah hated crusts on his toast. I knew his stuffed rabbit belonged on the left side of his pillow. I knew he waited by the upstairs window when Alexander’s flights were late.
I also knew that Eleanor had begun calling me too attached.
That was why my resignation letter was folded inside my apron pocket. I intended to leave before sunrise.
“You’ve made your point,” Eleanor told Noah. “Go to your father.”
Noah flinched.
I lifted him before I remembered the tray. It crashed onto the marble, sending glasses rolling beneath the guests’ shoes.
“Put him down,” Eleanor said.
“I’m sorry, ma’am.”
I didn’t put him down.
Alexander finally looked around. At the cameras. At the three women waiting to be chosen. At his son trembling in the arms of a woman wearing a name tag.
“The event is over,” he said. “Security, clear the room.”
Vanessa stepped forward. “Alexander, you cannot be serious. Your son just called a servant his mother in front of half of New York.”
“Leave, Vanessa.”
Guests began moving toward the doors. Claire stopped beside me.
“He knew what he wanted,” she said quietly.
Then Eleanor saw the paper in my pocket.
Before I could stop her, she pulled it free and handed it to Alexander.
His eyes found the heading.
RESIGNATION.
“You were leaving?” he asked.
Noah lifted his head from my shoulder.
“You said people stay.”
May you like
I opened my mouth, but Eleanor spoke first.
“Now,” she said, looking directly at me, “tell him why you were really hired.”
