EVERYONE SECRETLY FEARED THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE — UNTIL THE MAID FINALLY PUNCHED HER IN FRONT OF EVERYONE

The following Tuesday brought a sudden, violent rainstorm that battered the slate roof of the mansion and turned the surrounding gardens into lakes of dark mud.

At two o'clock in the afternoon, the kitchen was quiet.

The primary cook had gone to the basement pantry to inventory dry goods, leaving seventeen-year-old Ivy alone at the central prep station, carefully slicing strawberries for the evening dessert course.

The heavy swinging door of the kitchen opened with a sharp whoosh.

Corinne Wade stepped inside.

She wore a blood-red silk dress that rustled softly against the stainless-steel counters. She had her hands folded over a small leather notebook. Her face was calm, but her eyes held a frantic, sharp glitter that made Ivy instantly drop her paring knife onto the cutting board.

"M-Miss Wade," Ivy stammered, backing up until her spine hit the edge of the industrial sink. "I... I’m just finishing the fruit—"

"Quiet," Corinne commanded smoothly, stepping right up to the prep table.

She picked up a single strawberry, looked at it with intense disgust, and tossed it into the trash bin beneath the counter.

"You’ve been very loud lately, Ivy," Corinne whispered, leaning over the table until she was inches from the girl’s trembling face. "Crying in the corridors. Making a scene in front of my guests. Making people think that I am somehow cruel to the staff."

"N-no, Miss Wade!" Ivy’s eyes filled with instant tears. "I never said that! I swear!"

"You didn't have to say it," Corinne hissed, her voice dropping into a razor-thin whisper. "Your little performance with the tea tray started all of this. That new maid—Elena—thinks she’s your protector now, doesn't she? She thinks she can look at me like I'm nothing."

Corinne reached into her pocket and pulled out a small glass bottle filled with a clear, odorless liquid.

She set it firmly on the cutting board beside the sliced strawberries.

Ivy stared at the bottle, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. "W-what is that?"

"That is a very mild, non-lethal laxative compound," Corinne lied smoothly. "You are going to drop ten drops of it into the Earl Grey tea service that Elena is taking up to Damon’s private study at three o'clock."

Ivy’s breath caught in her throat. "I... I can't do that! That’s Mr. Ashworth’s tea!"

"If Damon becomes ill after drinking tea prepared and delivered by Elena Marsh," Corinne whispered, her eyes flashing with wicked delight, "she will be terminated immediately for gross negligence and potential poisoning of an employer. She will be escorted off this property by state troopers before sunset."

Ivy shook her head frantically, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. "Please, Miss Wade... please don't make me do this... Mr. Ashworth will destroy me..."

Corinne reached out, her sharp nails digging into the soft flesh of Ivy’s upper arm, squeezing until the girl let out a small gasp of pain.

"Listen to me very carefully, you pathetic little orphan," Corinne snarled into her ear. "Your brother is currently serving a three-year sentence at the county farm for joyriding. Do you know who pays his legal appeals fund? My father’s law firm. One phone call from me, and his legal aid disappears. He will be transferred to the maximum-security block by Friday."

Ivy let out a broken sob, her entire body shaking uncontrollably. "Please..."

"Ten drops in the teapot," Corinne whispered, releasing her arm and slapping the glass bottle against the girl’s palm. "If it isn't in that pot by three o'clock, your brother spends the next five years in a cage. Do we understand each other?"

Corinne turned on her heel and walked out of the kitchen, the red silk of her dress swishing against the swinging door.

Ivy collapsed against the edge of the sink, burying her face in her apron, her sobs echoing hollowly in the quiet kitchen.

Two minutes passed.

The door of the walk-in refrigeration unit clicked open softly.

Elena Marsh stepped out, holding a large crate of fresh cream. She set the crate down on the counter, walked over to Ivy, and gently pulled the girl’s trembling hands away from her face.

"I heard," Elena said quietly.

Ivy looked up, her eyes wide with terror. "Elena... oh God, Elena... you have to run! You have to leave this place today! She’s going to ruin my brother!"

Elena didn't look panicked. She picked up the small glass bottle from the counter, held it up to the light, unscrewed the cap, and took a brief, cautious sniff.

"Concentrated castor oil and industrial detergent," Elena noted flatly, screwing the cap back on. "It wouldn't just make Mr. Ashworth ill; it would burn his throat lining."

"What am I going to do?!" Ivy cried out, grabbing Elena’s grey sleeve. "If I don't do it, my brother—"

"Your brother will be fine," Elena said, her voice dropping into an absolute, unwavering calm that seemed to act like a anchor in the middle of the girl’s storm. "Give me the bottle."

"What are you going to do?"