Chapter 3

3

When Cleo saw me again, I had already been chatting with the maids about Mrs. Montgomery for a long time, right at the juiciest part.

Everyone praised Mrs. Montgomery for being elegant and generous. She never made things difficult for them and was the perfect boss and wife.

Unlike Miss Cleo, who lived here with no title but ordered them around like slaves. She constantly used the baby and the elders as an excuse, which only made Mr. Montgomery more distant.

She had changed rooms eight times but still couldn't find a floor she liked. She didn't even know how she liked her steak cooked, yet she claimed the executive chef's skills were worse than the town's pig butcher.

Some bold maids even started asking if Mr. Montgomery and I were getting serious, saying I would be a much better fit as the lady of the house.

I smiled at Cleo, who was standing right in front of me. Her face was red with anger, and her nostrils were flaring wildly.

Cleo had been like this since childhood. She hated being compared, especially when she was clearly losing.

"Maeve! You little bitch! It's bad enough you're clinging to Mr. Montgomery, but now you're spreading rumors about me?!" She lunged at me. This time Mr. Montgomery wasn't around, and no one dared to stop her.

I moved my face away with the force of her slap. It didn't hurt much, but my delicate skin was still scratched by her long nails, leaving bloody streaks.

"Clinging? I don't have that kind of time. Isn't everyone just telling the truth? Someone like you could never compare to Mrs. Montgomery, and you think you can rule this house?"

I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, scanning her up and down with an expression of pure disgust.

Cleo just started screaming at the top of her lungs. She called me a born slut with a body made for whoring. She called Mrs. Montgomery a fake hypocrite for not taking her out of the mountains sooner.

She even dragged Mr. Montgomery's name through the mud, making everyone's faces turn pale.

But I was absolutely thrilled. Yes, this screeching banshee was the real her. That fake, breathy voice was just weak and pathetic; she wasn't even worth a single hair on Mrs. Montgomery's head.

Right on cue, Mr. Montgomery took in the whole scene.

I covered my face and walked toward him, deliberately exposing the red scratches near my eye.

I stood behind him just like I used to. I had even practiced the angle of my lowered head―my back straight, my neck slightly tilted. It would instantly remind him of his late wife.

Rich people's floors were truly amazing. They were so polished you could use them as mirrors, clearly reflecting Mr. Montgomery's bloodshot eyes.

He marched up to Cleo and, without waiting for her to explain, slapped her hard across the face. The force was so shocking that blood seeped from the corner of her mouth.

"Behave yourself. Your only job is to give birth to that baby. Do not overstep your bounds."

After saying that, he walked out without looking back. My work had all been handed over to the new secretary, so I went back to my room since I had nothing to do.

The maids scattered too, leaving Cleo to cry alone. Well, it couldn't be helped. Who told her to have such a punchable mouth?

Mr. Montgomery came back, his coat smelling strongly of alcohol.

I wanted to step forward and change his clothes, but he grabbed me by the waist and tucked me under his arm. My toes barely dragged on the floor, making me look like an accessory hanging off him as he swayed.

Thankfully, the mattress was soft enough, so it didn't hurt when I was violently thrown onto it.

My eyes followed his wandering, fiery hands. When a frantic knock sounded at the door, we both stopped.

"Sir, the old madam is asking for you and Miss Maeve downstairs."

Mr. Montgomery pressed his lips tightly together. He actually looked quite emotionless, not bothered by the interruption at all.

This old lady was definitely not someone to mess with.