The Heiress' Revenge

Chapter 188: Phillip

Ariana’s POV

The garden was quiet and peaceful, just the way I like it. The flowers were in bloom.

Roses.

Lavender.

Hydrangeas

The air smelled sweet like honey and earth and something else I couldn’t name.

I came here often after my chores were done. I’d sneak out and sit on the stone bench to breathe in the fresh air.

Pretend I was somewhere else.

Someone else.

The bench was hidden behind a large oak tree; no one could see me here.

No one knew I came here; it was my little sanctuary.

My escape.

I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, feeling the breeze on my mask.

On my cheeks, pretending it was Dante’s touch.

Gentle.

Loving

Warm.

I missed him so much.

But by now, I’m sure he’s moved on, I mean, why wouldn’t he? It’s been two years.

I just hope that it’s with the right person and not someone like Melissa, but someone who could make him laugh and fill the emptiness I left behind.

Even though I wanted someone to be me so badly, the idea of someone being with him broke me.

I heard footsteps behind me; someone was coming.

I opened my eyes and turned my head.

Phillip Anderson walked around the oak tree.

He was wearing a casual shirt and dark jeans; his hair was messy.

His face was relaxed.

He looked different from the party, less formal.

He smiled when he saw me, the same kind smile. Those same blue eyes. "Emily. I thought I might find you here."

My heart started pounding. What was he doing here? How did he know about this place? How did he know I came here?

I stood up. I stepped back. "Mr. Anderson. I didn’t expect to see you here. I was just leaving. I have work to do. The kitchen—"

"Please don’t go." His voice was gentle. "I just want to talk. I just want to get to know you."

I shook my head. "There’s nothing to know. I’m just a maid, I work for your family, I’m not worth your time."

Phillip stepped closer. "I think you’re worth my time. I think you’re worth a lot more than you give yourself credit for."

I looked away cause I couldn’t look at him. His eyes were too kind and understanding. Too knowing. "You don’t know anything about me. You don’t know who I am—"

"Then tell me." He sat on the stone bench. He patted the spot beside him. "Tell me about yourself, tell me everything."

I didn’t sit, I stayed standing. My hands were shaking. My heart was pounding. "I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t tell you anything."

Phillip’s face was soft. "Why not? What are you afraid of?"

"I’m not afraid," I lied. "I just... I prefer to keep to myself. I prefer to be alone and not to talk about my past."

Phillip nodded slowly. "I understand and respect that, but I hope you know that I don’t see you as you portray yourself to me. I don’t judge people based on their station or their appearance. I judge them based on their character."

I looked at him.

For a heir like him, he did seem pretty humble.

But I couldn’t trust him or get comfortable. I respected Dante enough not to do that to him, even though he doesn’t know I’m still alive.

"I should go," I said. "The other maids will be wondering where I am. The head maid doesn’t like it when we disappear. She’ll think I’m slacking off."

Phillip stood up. "Emily, please. Just stay for a few more minutes and talk to me. Just let me get to know you."

I shook my head. "I’m sorry, Mr. Anderson. I can’t. I have work to do. I have—"

"Emily." His voice was firm. Not angry. Just insistent. "Please call me Phillip, not Mr. Anderson. Just Phillip."

I felt my heart soften just a little and enough to make me hesitate. "Phillip, I’m sorry. I really have to go."

I turned away.

I started walking toward the house with my feet heavy

"Emily," Phillip called after me. "I’ll be here tomorrow at the same time and place. If you change your mind."

I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. If I looked back, I might stay and say something I’m not supposed to say.

And I couldn’t let anyone in, not ever again.

I walked through the garden.

I reached the back door.

The service entrance and the door that led to the kitchen.

I put my hand on the handle. I was about to push the door open when a hand grabbed my arm.

I was yanked inside. The door slammed shut behind me. I stumbled and almost fell.

I caught myself on the wall

Jessica.

The head maid.

She was standing in front of me with her arms crossed, and her face was hard.

She was tall.

Thin.

Severe.

She had been working for the Andersons for twenty years and ruled the staff with an iron fist.

"What do you think you’re doing?" she demanded, her voice was sharp and accusing.

I looked at her, confused. "I was just getting some fresh air. I finished my chores. I wasn’t—"

"Don’t lie to me." Jessica stepped closer with her face inches from mine. "I saw you in the garden with Mr. Anderson, talking to him and trying to seduce him."

My eyes widened. "What? No. I wasn’t—I would never—Mr. Anderson just happened to be there. He was the one who started the conversation. I was just being polite. I wasn’t—"

Jessica grabbed my chin and forced me to look at her. "Listen to me, you pathetic little girl. Mr. Anderson is the heir to this family. He is worth millions. He could have any woman in the world, and he will never ever settle for someone like you."