The Heiress' Revenge

Chapter 189: Her Fiancé

Ariana’s POV

Tears filled my eyes, but I blinked them back. "I know, I know that. I wasn’t trying to—I don’t want—"

"I don’t care what you want." Jessica’s voice was low. "I’m telling you how it’s going to be. Stay away from Mr. Anderson. Don’t talk to him. Don’t look at him. Don’t even breathe in his direction, or I will make your life a living hell. Do you understand?"

I nodded, my chin still in her hand. "I understand, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t trying to—"

"Save your apologies." Jessica let go of my chin. She stepped back and looked at me with disgust. "You’re pathetic. You wear that mask because you’re hiding something. I don’t know what it is and I don’t care cause you’re a nobody, a worthless piece of crap... So stay in your lane, do your job, and keep your head down... stay away from the family."

I swallowed; my throat was tight. My heart was pounding. "Okay, I will, I promise. I’ll stay away."

Jessica nodded. "Good, now get back to work. The kitchen needs to be cleaned."

I walked past her with legs that were shaking.

I walked to the kitchen the other maids were already there.

I grabbed a sponge and started scrubbing the counter.

The motions were automatic.

Mechanical.

Numbing.

She was right, I was pathetic. I was hiding something. I should stay away from the family, but it still hurts.

It still stung.

It still made me feel like nothing.

Because I was nothing.

I was someone.

I was Ariana Watson/Russo. I was the wife of Dante Russo. I was the mother of five children.

But no one here knew that. To them, I was just Emily the masked maid. The ugly woman who cleaned toilets and scrubbed floors.

The nobody.

I chose this, I reminded myself, so I had to live with it, I had to accept it, and to make peace with it.

The kitchen was quiet, with most of the other maids having gone to bed. The dishes were washed.

The counters were wiped.

The floors were mopped, everything was clean, and ready for tomorrow. I was sitting at the small table in the corner. The one where the staff ate their meals.

The one that was hidden from the main kitchen, the one that was just for us.

Amaya sat across from me.

She was my only friend here.

The only person who treated me like a human being.

She was from Jamaica, with dark skin and a warm heart. She had been working for the Andersons for five years, so she knew the family well.

Their secrets.

Their scandals.

Their sins.

She snoops more than she’s supposed to, but she is a total sweetheart.

She didn’t care about my mask or ask questions since I never gave her room to entertain them, and she understood that and accepted me the way I am.

"You look tired, chile," Amaya said, her accent was thick. "You’ve been working too hard; you need to rest. You need to take care of yourself."

I shook my head. "I’m fine, I just couldn’t sleep, there’s just too much on my mind."

Amaya leaned forward. Her eyes were soft. "You wanna talk about it? You know I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Whatever you wanna say. I’ll listen."

I wanted to tell her everything about Dante and my children.

About the life I left behind, the lies I was living, but I couldn’t. It was too dangerous and risky.

"I’m okay," I said. "Just tired, as you said. I’ll be fine after some sleep."

Amaya didn’t push; she never did. She just nodded and changed the subject. "You hear about the engagement? The whole house is buzzing. Can’t stop talking about it."

I frowned. "What engagement?"

Amaya’s eyes lit up. "Miss Natasha, she’s engaged to be married. To some billionaire from New York, rumors have it that he’s very rich, handsome, and powerful.

My heart skipped.

New York.

Billionaire.

Handsome.

Powerful.

It could be anyone. It could be no one. It probably had nothing to do with me.

"When did this happen?" I asked. "I didn’t hear anything."

Amaya waved her hand. "It’s been in the works since the beginning of this month. The family kept it quiet. Wanted to make sure everything was perfect before they announced it, but now it’s official. The man is coming to dinner in two days to meet the family and to finalize the arrangements."

I felt a chill run down my spine two days after being a billionaire from New York.

It was probably nothing, just a coincidence. Just a rich man marrying a rich woman.

Nothing to do with me.

Nothing to do with my past.

"Do you know his name?" I asked my voice to be casual and careful. "Amaya shook her head. "No one knows, yet the family is keeping it secret; they say he’s very private and shy. Doesn’t like the spotlight. That’s why they haven’t released his name to the public."

Private.

Shy.

Didn’t like the spotlight.

"Well, whoever he is, he’s in for a treat," I said. "Natasha is... a lot."

Amaya laughed. "That’s one way to put it. She’s difficult, demanding, and spoiled, but she’s also beautiful, rich, and connected. Men have been lining up to marry her for years. It was only a matter of time before she found someone worthy."

I thought about Natasha.

About the way she treated me.

About the cruel words she said and the way she looked at me like I was dirt under her shoes.

Her fiancé was probably just like her: rich, arrogant, and entitled. They deserved each other.

"I hope he knows what he’s getting into," I said. "Marrying into this family is not for the faint of heart."

Amaya nodded. "True, but love is love, or maybe it’s just business. Either way, it’s not our place to judge; we just work here. We just clean up after them. We just stay out of the way."

I looked at her. "You’re wise, Amaya. You always know what to say."

She smiled. "I’ve been around a long time. I’ve seen a lot and learned a lot. The most important thing I’ve learned is that life is too short to worry about things you can’t control. So don’t worry about the burden you carry, you just take care of yourself."

I nodded. "I’m trying. It’s hard sometimes."

Amaya reached across the table and took my hand. Her skin was warm. "I know it’s hard, but you’re strong, you can handle whatever comes your way."

I squeezed her hand. "Thank you for this, really."

Amaya smiled. "You don’t have to thank me. That’s what friends are for. Now finish your tea and go to bed."

I finished my tea and stood up, putting my cup in the sink and turning to Amaya. "Goodnight, Amaya. Sleep well."

She nodded. "Goodnight, chile. Dream sweet."

I walked out of the kitchen.

I got to the room and closed the door, leaning behind and letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

This was my life.

This was my home.

This was my prison.