The gray maid uniform wasn't just something I threw on every morning. It was like putting on a disguise. In a house full of rich people, the help is supposed to disappear into the walls. You learn to step lightly, keep your voice low, and watch everything without anyone realizing you're even there.
By my third day, I already had the place figured out pretty well. The guards outside switched at six in the morning and again at six at night. Christian's private part of the house locked up tight every midnight. And every four hours, like clockwork, Marcus sent a quick encrypted message to the burner phone I kept tucked away in the heel of my boot.
"Get your head in the game, Daniella," I muttered while I scrubbed the marble floor in the west gallery. "He's just a guy. A guy who needs to stop breathing one day soon."
Still, I couldn't shake what happened in the library the night before. The way Christian looked at me wasn't the usual creepy stare I expected from men like him. It was more tired than anything, like he'd seen too much bad stuff in his life. Marcus had always described him as this heartless tyrant who got off on power. He never said anything about the quiet sadness in his eyes or how he smelled like fresh rain mixed with that expensive cologne.
"You missed a spot there, Cruz."
I jerked a little and glanced up. Mrs. Gable, the head housekeeper, was standing over me with her arms folded, looking as stern as ever.
"Sorry about that, Mrs. Gable. My mind wandered for a second."
"Well, bring it back," she said sharply. "Mr. Harper's got the board coming over for a private dinner tonight. Everything has to be spotless. If one glass has even a tiny smudge, you'll be the one hearing about it."
"Yes, ma'am."
That dinner was my shot. All those board members would be there—the guys who actually held the purse strings for the whole Harper operation. If I could slip a few listening devices into the dining room, Marcus would have the ammo he needed to start tearing things apart from the inside. Then, when everything went crazy, I could finish what I came here to do.
As the sun started sinking behind the Chicago buildings, the whole house woke up. Fancy cars rolled up the driveway one after another, and these men in suits that probably cost more than my dad's whole life stepped inside, bringing the smell of cigars and too much confidence with them.
They put me on tray duty with the catering crew, so I moved through the crowd carrying champagne glasses. I kept my eyes down on their shiny shoes, trying to stay invisible. Just another shadow in the room.
I saw Marcus first. He looked totally different tonight nice suit, big smile, laughing and shaking hands with the exact people he was planning to bury. When our eyes met for half a second, he didn't show anything. No wink, no nod. Just that cold look that meant one thing: do the job.
Then Christian walked in.
The energy in the room shifted right away. All the loud talking quieted down fast. People got this respectful, almost nervous vibe. He wasn't grinning or anything. He just moved through the space like he owned every inch of it, and the air felt heavier when he was around.
"Christian!" called out this older guy named Sterling, who was all puffed up and loud. "We were just chatting about the merger. The press keeps bugging us about your personal life, you know? A man like you really needs a wife. Someone who makes you look more… approachable. Helps keep the shareholders happy."
I hung back by a big pillar, pretending to straighten some flowers while I listened in.
"I'm not in the market for a trophy wife, Sterling," Christian said, his voice low and a little rough around the edges. "I care about getting things done."
"The board feels differently," Sterling pushed. "People want a story, not just some cold machine running the show. If you don't start softening things up, we might need to have a serious talk about leadership."
It was a straight-up threat, clear as day. They were trying to shove him aside.
Weirdly, it kind of annoyed me. These guys didn't have any right to mess with him like that. If anyone was going to decide his future, it was supposed to be me.
Christian's jaw clenched tight. He looked around the room with this bored, irritated expression until his eyes landed on me. I didn't look away quick enough. For a moment, everything else kind of faded. It was just the two of us staring at each other.
The rest of dinner felt like a blur—clinking forks, quiet little conversations full of hidden meanings. I waited until the guests started heading to the smoking lounge, then I snuck back into the dining room like I was just clearing up.
My hands stayed steady as I reached under the big mahogany table, feeling around for the right spot on the carved base. I started peeling the sticky backing off one of the tiny listening devices.
"It's a long way down if you fall, Daniella."
I didn't jump, but my whole body went still. I slowly pulled my hand back, tucking the little device into my glove, and stood up.
Christian was standing in the doorway, holding a glass of something dark. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, and he looked… real. Tired, but real. And that made him even more dangerous somehow.
"The table leg felt a bit off, sir," I said, trying to sound calm. "I was just making sure it was steady."
He started walking toward me, taking his time. "You're not a very good liar. I can see your pulse jumping right here in your neck, and your eyes keep darting around like you're looking for the closest way out."
I made myself breathe slow. "I'm just a maid, Mr. Harper. I get nervous when important people are around."
He set his glass down—right above where I'd been working—and stepped in close, so close I had to look up at him.
"You're a lot of things, Daniella, but 'just a maid' isn't one of them. I've been paying attention. You move like someone who always knows exactly where every exit is. You clean a room like you're hunting for something dangerous."
He reached out and gently pushed a piece of hair away from my face. His fingers were warm, and the touch sent this strange little spark through me. It was the first time any man had touched me without it feeling like a threat.
"Who sent you?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Marcus? Sterling? One of the others who want me out of the picture?" He leaned in even closer, his chest almost touching mine. "They all think I'm the monster in this story. Maybe I am. But I'm the monster who keeps the worse ones from getting too close."
This was it the perfect chance. I could feel the knife pressed against my thigh. One fast move and it would be over.
But I couldn't do it.
There was something in his eyes that hit too close to home. That same tired, hollow feeling I woke up with every single morning.
"I need a wife, Daniella," he said, almost under his breath.
The words caught me completely off guard.
"The board wants someone they can parade around and use to get to me. Someone they think they can control."
"Why are you telling me all this?"
"Because you've got that look in your eyes—like you've been through the same kind of hell I have. And I think you hate these guys almost as much as I do." He lowered his head so his breath brushed my ear. "Here's what I'm offering: One year. You stay here, wear the ring, act the part when people are watching. I'll give you ten million dollars when it's done. Enough money to walk away and start over. Enough to get back some of what life took from you."
"It's a contract," I whispered.
"It's a shield," he said. "For both of us."
I looked past him through the glass doors and saw Marcus standing out on the terrace, watching us. Waiting for me to give the signal.
If I agreed, I'd be right in the middle of everything. Total access. I could take Christian apart piece by piece from the inside.
But staring into those guarded eyes, I suddenly realized the trap wasn't closing on him.
It was closing on me.
"I accept," I said. The words felt heavy, like a promise and a lie all mixed together.
Christian just nodded once, like he'd known what I'd say. "Go on back to your room, Daniella. Tomorrow the maid disappears. The wife starts."
I walked away with my heart banging hard in my chest. I'd just walked straight into the lion's den, but not as the hunter this time.
As I touched the hidden knife through my dress, I wondered if I'd really be able to pull it out when the time came.
Behind me, I heard the sharp sound of a crystal glass shattering on the floor.
Christian Harper didn't want a wife.
He wanted a weapon.
And he had no clue he'd just invited the sharpest one right into his house.