“Are you insane? Let go of me!”

The furious shout tore through the solemn hush of St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Chicago. A wedding of the century, unfolding in full ceremonial grandeur, turned in an instant into a spectacle no one had imagined.

Five hundred members of high society turned at once—politicians, business magnates, and the most powerful bosses in the underworld. All of them froze at the unbelievable scene playing out right in front of their eyes.

A maid in a black uniform smeared with grime stood in the middle of the aisle, her chestnut-brown hair shaken loose. She was boldly clamping her hand around Nico Fontaine’s wrist, yanking him forward without mercy.

Veronica Sterling, the radiant bride in a Vera Wang gown worth a million dollars, went pale, then flushed a furious red.

“Security! Drag this lunatic out right now. She’s mentally ill!”

Guards surged in from every direction like wolves catching the scent of prey—black suits, cold faces, men ready to deal with anyone who dared violate their boss’s wedding.

But the maid didn’t flinch. She tightened her grip on Nico even more, green eyes glassed with tears yet blazing with a desperation that had reached its final edge.

“You’re in danger. Please listen to me. Just one minute.”

Nico Fontaine—a thirty-six-year-old man with gray eyes as cold as ice—stared at the maid with an expression he couldn’t place. This was the woman he’d fired last night, a thief, a liar, and yet she dared to appear here on the most important day of his life, in front of five hundred distinguished guests.

She really had lost her mind.

The guards were close enough now that their shadows fell over her. With a single nod from Nico, the maid would be dragged away and vanish from Chicago forever.

No one touched someone from the Fontaine family and lived peacefully afterward.

And yet, there was something in her eyes. Not madness, not hatred, but real fear—fear for someone who wasn’t herself.

Before the guards’ rough hands could lay hold of her, Nico suddenly signaled for them to stop. He let the maid pull him toward the coat room beside the aisle, and the heavy oak door slammed shut behind them.

Outside, five hundred people held their breath. Veronica stood rigid in the center of the church, her dazzling gown suddenly looking strangely out of place.

She wanted to pound on the door and storm in, but she didn’t dare. The look in Nico’s eyes just before he disappeared behind the wood made her shiver.

One minute passed. Then two. Then five.

A terrifying silence settled over the cathedral. Whispers began to spread like waves.

Who was that maid?

What did she have in her hands that made her dare risk everything?

And what would happen when that door opened?

No one knew that in those few short minutes, the fate of an entire empire would be completely rewritten.

Forty-eight hours earlier, it had all begun with the sharp crack of a teacup shattering.

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Forty-eight hours before that wedding of the century, the Fontaine estate rested in calm silence on the outskirts of Chicago, like an old castle preserved from another age. Towering greystone walls and stained-glass windows glittered under the late-afternoon sun, and an endless garden was crowned with a marble fountain.

Everything radiated a kind of privileged splendor that ordinary people only dared to dream about. But behind that flawless beauty, there were shadows no light could ever reach.

The sound of porcelain shattering ripped through the stillness of the main sitting room. A Wedgwood teacup—an antique worth thousands of dollars—exploded into fragments across the cold marble floor, scalding Earl Grey spilling outward.

The tea soaked into a hundred-year-old Persian rug and ran toward a pair of vivid red Christian Louboutin heels set carelessly on the floor.

Audrey Shaw stood frozen.

She was twenty-eight, with chestnut-brown hair braided neatly at the nape of her neck, clear green eyes, and pale skin tinted bluish from too many sleepless nights. Eight months working as a maid in the Fontaine mansion had taught her the harshness of the upper class, but she had never faced anything like this.

Her hand was still gripping an empty silver tray. She hadn’t dropped the teacup; she had set it down carefully, as she always did.

It was Veronica Sterling—Nico Fontaine’s arrogant fiancée—who had knocked it over. A calculated flick of the hand. A perfectly staged performance.

Veronica sprang up from the crimson velvet sofa, a turquoise Valentino couture dress clinging to the flawless lines of her body. Her beautiful face—full red lips, shining blonde hair—twisted into a mask of fury.

But Audrey saw it clearly. Behind those icy blue eyes, there wasn’t real anger at all.

There was satisfaction—the gleaming delight of someone who enjoyed grinding another person into the floor.

“You filthy little maid!”

Veronica’s shrill voice rang through the vast room.

“Do you have any idea how much these shoes cost? More than your pathetic salary for an entire year. How do you plan to pay me back, huh? With that skinny, ugly body of yours?”

Audrey lowered her head, lips pressed so tightly they split and bled. She wanted to say she was innocent; she wanted to point out that Veronica had been the one to knock the cup over.

But who would ever believe a maid?

In the corner of the room, Mrs. Patterson—the housekeeper who had served the Fontaine family for more than thirty years—stood as still as stone. She had seen everything. She knew perfectly well Veronica had done it on purpose.

But she only bowed her head, eyes sliding away, not daring to speak a single word. In this house, Veronica Sterling’s power was nearly absolute.

She was about to become the mistress of the estate. No one dared to challenge her.

“Neil.”

Veronica’s voice turned ice-cold, cutting through every thought in Audrey’s mind.

“Clean it up with your hands.”

With the white cloth in her apron pocket, Audrey looked up, green eyes wide with disbelief at what she’d just heard. Veronica’s stare—cold and threatening—didn’t waver.

Slowly, Audrey sank to her knees.

Her knees landed in the puddle of tea that was still warm, shards of broken porcelain slicing into her skin through the thin fabric of her uniform. She pulled out the white cloth, bent forward, and began wiping Veronica’s red shoes.

Then, without warning, a kick to her shoulder made her lurch, nearly falling. The needle-sharp tip of Veronica’s high heel drove into Audrey’s collarbone.

“Scrub harder,” Veronica hissed, her voice thick with pleasure. “And don’t let your cheap, filthy poverty smell get on my things. Do you know what you’re worth? Not even as much as my fingernail.”

Audrey bit down hard, swallowing every ounce of humiliation.

In her mind, she saw Tommy—her sixteen-year-old brother—lying in a hospital bed at the University of Chicago Medical Center. A congenital heart condition had tormented him since childhood, and the doctors said the surgery would cost two hundred thousand dollars.

Two hundred thousand—a monstrous number Audrey had no idea how to find.

This job at the Fontaine mansion was her only income. If she lost it, Tommy would have no chance to live.

She couldn’t lose her job. Even if she had to swallow her pride, even if she had to kneel at someone else’s feet, she had to keep going.

Tears slipped down in silence, blending with the tea that was cooling on the floor. Audrey wasn’t crying from pain.

She was crying from helplessness, from the cruel irony of a fate that had forced her into this moment, because she knew this was only the beginning of the nightmare.

Heavy footsteps sounded from the hallway—steady and decisive, like the pulse of a heart that had long ago hardened.

Audrey was still kneeling on the floor, the white cloth in her hand now stained brown with tea, her knees aching where broken porcelain had bitten into flesh. The moment she heard those footsteps, her heart clenched tight.

Nico Fontaine walked into the sitting room.

He was thirty-six years old, one hundred eighty-five centimeters tall, wearing a flawless black Tom Ford suit as if he’d stepped straight off a fashion magazine cover. A sharply angled face, clean-cut lines, a squared jaw, and a high straight nose gave him that distinctive cold handsomeness.

But what made people shudder were his gray eyes—icy and distant—and buried deep inside them, a sorrow no one could ever touch.

He was the head of the Fontaine family, one of the most powerful organizations in Chicago. In the underworld, the name Nico Fontaine meant absolute power.

No one dared challenge him. No one dared betray him. And no one dared meet his gaze for too long.

Nico’s eyes swept over the scene in front of him. His fiancée stood there wearing anger like a crown, and the maid knelt on the floor amid spilled tea and shards of porcelain.

The priceless Persian rug was stained. The vivid red Louboutin heels lay there carelessly.

A chaotic tableau he had no interest in understanding.

And then a miracle happened.

Veronica Sterling—the woman who moments earlier had been screaming like a wicked witch—transformed in an instant into a fragile, pitiful princess. She hurried to Nico, her heels clicking on the stone floor, and clung to his arm.

She pressed her head against his chest, blue eyes filling with tears, lips trembling as if she were about to cry.

“Nico, my love,” Veronica said, her voice sweet as honey, completely different from the shrill, venomous tone she’d used seconds before. “I only asked her to bring me tea, and she spilled it all over the shoes you just gave me. The shoes I love the most. I’m so upset. It’s a bad omen for our wedding tomorrow.”

Audrey stayed on her knees, green eyes wide, watching the performance unfold right in front of her. She wanted to speak; she wanted to scream that it was all a lie.

But her throat felt crushed shut, and no words came.

Nico looked down at the maid kneeling at his feet. His gray gaze passed over her the way it might pass over an object not worth noticing.

He didn’t ask what had happened. He didn’t look into her eyes to search for the truth. He only felt tired—tired beyond measure.

Tomorrow was his wedding, the day he would bury the memory of Kate, his first wife, who had died two years earlier from a sudden heart condition. He didn’t need any more trouble.

He only needed quiet.

“Get out,” Nico said, his voice cold and final, like a sentence handed down in court. “Don’t cause any more disturbance. Next time, be more careful—or find another job.”

Not a single question. Not a single glance of compassion.

He didn’t even bother to hear an explanation.

He turned away, letting Veronica cling to his arm, and headed for the stairs as if the maid kneeling there had never existed at all.

Audrey felt as though someone had driven a knife into her chest. Veronica’s cruelty hurt her, but Nico’s indifference hurt a hundred times more.

He wasn’t cruel. He didn’t torment her the way Veronica did. But he treated her like air—like invisible dust.

She wasn’t worth even one second of his attention.

That was the most painful thing of all. To be treated badly still meant you existed.

To be ignored completely was what truly made you feel like nothing.

“Yes, Mr. Fontaine,” Audrey murmured, her voice so small it was almost only a breath.

She stood up, knees trembling, cuts from the porcelain bleeding through the black fabric of her uniform. She picked up the silver tray, kept her head lowered, and hurried out of the sitting room.

She didn’t look back. She didn’t let anyone see the tears sliding down her cheeks.

Humiliation burned through her from the inside out, but she had to keep going—for Tommy, for the two hundred thousand dollars in surgery she still had no way to pay.

She didn’t have the right to collapse.

She didn’t know that in only a few hours, fate would shove her into a vortex she could never have imagined.

Audrey walked down the mansion’s long, hollow corridor, her legs feeling as though they were weighted with lead. Old oil paintings hung along the walls, looking down at her with cold, judging eyes.

Dim yellow lights cast strange shadows across the glossy marble floor. The humiliation still burned in her chest, but she bit her lip hard and swallowed everything down.

For Tommy. She had to be strong for Tommy.

As she passed the ground-floor library, Audrey suddenly slowed to a stop. The heavy oak door was cracked open—just a narrow slit—and a familiar voice carried out from inside.

Veronica Sterling’s voice.

But it wasn’t sweet as honey anymore. It wasn’t weak and pitiful anymore.

Now it was cold, triumphant, and so vicious it made the skin crawl.

Audrey knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop. That was forbidden in this house. If she was caught, she’d lose her job instantly.

But something in that voice kept her from moving on—a vague instinct, a curiosity she couldn’t restrain.

She pressed herself into a dark corner of the hallway, her back against the icy wall, holding her breath as she listened.

“He’s still crazy about me like an idiot,” Veronica said, dripping with contempt. “Don’t worry. That old man is stupid. All he does is drown in his pain—in memories of his dead wife. Pathetic.”

Audrey stopped breathing altogether.

Old man.

Was Veronica talking about Nico Fontaine? The man she’d been clinging to only minutes ago, calling my love.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Veronica continued, her sweetness turning grotesque. “After the honeymoon, he’ll end up just like Kate. Then no one will be in our way anymore.”

Audrey’s heart felt crushed in a fist.

Just like Kate.

Kate Fontaine—Nico’s first wife—had died two years earlier from a sudden heart attack. All of Chicago knew that tragic story.

People said Nico had collapsed after her death, turning into the cold, emotionless man he was now.

But what did just like Kate mean?

“The inheritance papers are ready,” Veronica went on, her voice thick with satisfaction. “My lawyer already finished everything. All I need is his signature tonight and it’s done. He trusts me. He trusts me blindly.”

A soft laugh followed—chilling to the bone.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ve got the medicine. This new kind doesn’t leave any trace. Not even an autopsy can detect it. A few more doses and it’s over. He’ll sleep forever. Just like his poor wife did.”

Audrey had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out in horror.

Medicine. No trace. Sleep forever.

Just like Kate.

Dear God.

Kate Fontaine hadn’t died of a heart attack.

Kate had been murdered.

And Veronica Sterling was the killer.

“Then, baby, you’ll have everything,” Veronica purred, as if she were whispering to a lover. “The Fontaine empire will be ours—money, power, everything. We just need a little more patience. After the wedding, I’ll take my time. No one will suspect a thing. A young widow grieving her husband’s sudden death—who would ever suspect her?”

Her sharp laughter rang out again, full of malice.

Audrey stood there trembling from head to toe, her mind spinning. The woman she had just knelt before—cleaning her shoes with bare hands—was a murderer.

She had killed Kate Fontaine. And she was planning to kill Nico Fontaine, the man who had just coldly dismissed Audrey without a shred of mercy.

He was going to die without ever knowing.

He was sleeping beside his enemy and still calling it love.

Suddenly, the click of high heels sounded inside the library. Veronica was coming toward the door.

Audrey panicked.

If she was discovered, she would die. She knew too much. Veronica would never let her live.

She turned and ran for the kitchen, her steps skidding on the slick marble. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as if it might burst.

She stumbled once, her knee crashing into the floor with a sharp bolt of pain, but she didn’t dare stop. She forced herself up and kept running.

The dark hallway felt endless. The shadows swallowed her whole.

The sound of her own breathing roared in her ears like wind.

At last, the kitchen door appeared. Audrey lunged inside, slammed it shut behind her, pressed her back to the wall, and gasped for air as if she’d run a marathon.

Her whole body shook beyond her control.

What she’d just heard kept twisting through her mind like a nightmare with no end.

Kate had been murdered. Nico was about to die. And she—a small, ordinary maid—was the only person who knew the truth.

What was she supposed to do now?

Tell who?

Who would ever believe a filthy maid?

Audrey had barely burst through the kitchen door when she nearly slammed into someone. She staggered back, her heart still pounding like a mad thing in her chest.

It was Maggie Torres.

Maggie was thirty-five, a Hispanic woman with black curly hair tied high and warm brown eyes, and she was Audrey’s closest coworker during her eight months at the Fontaine mansion.

Maggie had just set down a stack of porcelain plates, her eyes widening as she stared at Audrey with pure alarm.

“Audrey, what happened? Oh my God—your face is white as paper. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Audrey couldn’t speak. She grabbed Maggie by the sleeve and pulled her toward the darkest corner of the enormous kitchen behind the towering shelves—far from the doorway, as far as she could possibly get.

Maggie let herself be dragged, her face full of confusion and fear.

When they reached a place that felt safe, Audrey turned back, green eyes still wet with terror. She gripped Maggie’s shoulders, her whisper trembling.

“Maggie, I just heard something horrible. Veronica… She just called someone.”

Audrey told her everything—every word, every sentence. About Nico being called an idiot, about Kate and a death that had been staged, about a kind of medicine that left no trace, about a plan to seize the Fontaine empire after Nico slept forever.

Maggie stood as if she’d been turned to stone, her brown eyes widening more with each thing Audrey said.

When Audrey finished, Maggie hurriedly lifted a hand and covered Audrey’s mouth, her gaze darting around in panic.

“Are you crazy? Don’t say it that loud. If anyone hears, we’re all dead,” Maggie hissed through clenched teeth. “But… but are you sure? You heard it clearly? You didn’t misunderstand something?”

“I heard it clearly, Maggie,” Audrey whispered, her voice soaked in desperation. “She said she’ll act after the honeymoon. She has the medicine. She has a plan. Maggie, she’s a devil. She killed Mrs. Kate—and now she wants to kill the boss.”

Maggie trembled, her back pressing into the shelving as if she didn’t have the strength to stand on her own.

“But… but what do we do now? Tell who? Who would believe us?”

Helplessness flooded Maggie’s eyes.

“We’re just maids, Audrey. Two small, ordinary maids. And this is the Fontaine family—the most powerful mafia in Chicago. If we accuse her and we’re wrong, we die. If we’re right and can’t prove it, we die too. Do you understand?”

Audrey understood.

She understood better than anyone.

This world wasn’t fair. The words of a maid meant nothing beside the words of a beautiful high-society woman who was about to become the lady of the house.

Suddenly, the click of high heels sounded outside the kitchen door. Click. Click. Click.

Steady. Clear.

Coming this way.

Audrey and Maggie fell silent at once, blood turning to ice in their veins. They didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Both of them hurried behind the tall shelving, shrinking as small as they could.

The kitchen door opened.

Veronica Sterling walked in, still wearing that stunning turquoise Valentino dress. She went straight to the refrigerator, took out a bottle of mineral water, twisted the cap, and drank a sip.

Then she stopped.

Her icy blue eyes swept across the kitchen as if she sensed something—as if she knew someone was here.

Audrey held her breath. Her heart beat so hard she feared Veronica could hear it.

Beside her, Maggie was shaking too, both hands clamped over her mouth.

One second. Two. Three.

Time seemed to stop moving.

Finally, Veronica shrugged, set the bottle down, and walked out of the kitchen.

The sound of her heels faded farther and farther away until it disappeared completely.

Audrey and Maggie exhaled at the same time, their bodies limp with tension.

Maggie gripped Audrey’s hand, her whisper low but firm with resolve.

“We need proof, Audrey. Real proof. Without it, we’re nothing. Words alone aren’t enough to convict someone like Veronica Sterling. Do you understand?”

Audrey nodded.

She understood.

But where would the proof be?

How were they supposed to find it?

And who would help them?

Late at night, the Fontaine mansion sank into darkness—frightening, breathless silence. Audrey lay on the narrow bed in the servants’ quarters in the basement, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.

What she’d heard that afternoon kept drilling through her mind, looping without end.

Medicine that left no trace.

Sleep forever.

Just like Kate.

She turned over again and again, but sleep wouldn’t come.

Finally, she decided to get up. Maybe a little walking would calm her down.

Audrey pulled on a thin sweater, gently opened her door, and stepped outside.

At night, the Fontaine estate carried a haunted beauty, completely unlike the daylight hours. The long corridors were lit only by a few dim lamps, casting strange shadows along the walls.

The sound of Audrey’s footsteps was soft against the cold stone underfoot.

As she crossed the main hallway on the ground floor, Audrey suddenly stopped.

Someone was standing there.

A small figure with hair as white as frost, motionless before a large painting on the wall.

Mrs. Patterson.

The housekeeper who had served the Fontaine family for more than thirty years. The woman who had witnessed Audrey’s humiliation that afternoon and said nothing.

Audrey started to turn away, but curiosity tugged at her. She wanted to know what Mrs. Patterson was looking at.

She stepped closer and realized it was a portrait of a young woman—blonde hair like ripe wheat, gentle blue eyes like an autumn lake, a warm smile that seemed to light the entire canvas.

Kate Fontaine.

Nico Fontaine’s late wife.

The woman Veronica Sterling had killed.

“You heard it too, didn’t you, my girl?”

Mrs. Patterson’s voice came suddenly, making Audrey flinch.

Mrs. Patterson didn’t turn around, her gaze still fixed on the portrait.

“I saw you running through the hallway this afternoon. I saw the panic on your face. You heard something from Miss Veronica, didn’t you?”

Audrey stood frozen, not knowing how to answer.

Lie or confess.

Either one could get her killed.

But Mrs. Patterson didn’t wait for a reply. She sighed, her voice carrying the deep sorrow of someone who had endured too long.

“I know, my girl. I’ve known for a long time—about Veronica, about what she did to Mrs. Kate, about what she’s planning now.”

Mrs. Patterson turned, old eyes that still held a clear light looking straight at Audrey.

“Mrs. Kate—before she died—she suspected something. She told me she felt unwell after every time she took the supplements from Dr. Harris, the family’s private physician. Exhaustion. Dizziness. Her heart racing. But the doctor kept insisting it was only because she was working too hard.”

Mrs. Patterson lifted her gaze back to the portrait, mercy and grief softening her face.

“She was a smart woman, my girl. She knew something wasn’t right. She wrote a letter recording all her suspicions and hid it away. She told me that if anything happened, I should look for the antique music box—the wedding gift Mr. Nico gave her.”

“A music box?” Audrey asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Mrs. Patterson nodded.

“An old wooden music box carved with roses. Mr. Nico had it made especially for Mrs. Kate by a craftsman in Italy. It plays ‘Clair de Lune,’ Mrs. Kate’s favorite piece—the song they danced to at their wedding.”

Mrs. Patterson sighed again.

“After Mrs. Kate died, Mr. Nico put all her belongings into a storage room on the third floor. He forbade anyone to touch them. The music box is in there too.”

Mrs. Patterson slipped a hand into her pocket and took out a small brass key, worn and dull with time. She placed it in Audrey’s palm.

“I’ve kept this key for two years. Two years of living in fear and silence. I’m too old, my girl. Too old—and too afraid to do anything.”

She looked at Audrey, and something in her eyes shimmered like hope.

“But you… you still have fire in your eyes. I saw it when you knelt on the floor and cleaned Veronica’s shoes and still didn’t cry. I saw it when you ran through the hallway with determination instead of despair. You have something I don’t, my girl. Courage.”

Audrey stared down at the key in her hand, her heart pounding out of rhythm.

This was a clue. This could be the proof she and Maggie needed.

But it was also a road that led straight to death.

The storage room was forbidden. The Fontaine family didn’t forgive trespassers.

If she was caught, she wouldn’t just lose her job.

She would lose her life.

Then she thought of Nico Fontaine—the man with gray eyes sad down to the bone. The man who had lost his wife without ever knowing she’d been murdered, the man who was about to be killed by the very person he trusted most.

He was cold. He was indifferent.

He had not protected her.

But he didn’t deserve to die.

No one deserved to die like that.

“I’ll find it,” Audrey said, her voice trembling but filled with resolve. “I have to find it.”

Two in the morning.

The Fontaine mansion was drowned in darkness and a terrifying silence. There was only the faint whistle of wind outside the windows and the hard thudding of Audrey’s heart inside her chest.

She stood at the foot of the staircase leading up to the third floor, the old brass key clenched tight in her sweat-slick palm.

This was forbidden territory. No one was allowed up there after Kate Fontaine died.

Nico Fontaine’s order.

To violate it meant death.

Audrey drew a deep breath, forcing herself to steady.

She thought of Tommy lying in a hospital bed. She thought of Mrs. Patterson and the hope in her eyes.

She thought of Kate Fontaine, a woman who had died wrongfully while no one knew the truth.

Then she started up the stairs—one step at a time—softly, carefully.

Cold sweat slid down her forehead. Every creak of the old steps made her heart feel as if it might leap out of her ribs.

The darkness wrapped around her like a massive black blanket.

At last, she reached the third floor.

The hallway up here was darker than anywhere else. Not a single lamp was lit. A thick layer of dust on the floor showed it had been a long time since anyone had set foot here.

Audrey switched on her phone flashlight, its weak beam sweeping over the aged walls.

Kate’s storage-room door stood at the end of the corridor—a heavy oak door with antique grain running through it.

Audrey approached, slid the key into the lock, and turned it. The squeal of metal and wood echoed in the still night, making her flinch.

She pushed the door open, stepped inside, and pulled it shut quickly behind her.

The room appeared before her like another world—a world frozen in time.

Dust covered everything so thick Audrey could see tiny particles floating in the flashlight beam. Furniture was draped in white cloth like silent ghosts guarding the memories of the dead.

Audrey swept her light across the room and stopped at a wedding photograph hanging on the wall.

Kate Fontaine in a pure white gown, blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, blue eyes shining with happiness.

And beside her stood Nico Fontaine—but not the Nico Fontaine Audrey knew.

The man in the photograph was smiling, a warm, genuine smile full of love. His gray eyes were no longer cold but lit with boundless joy.

They looked at each other as if the whole world contained only the two of them.

Audrey felt her heart tighten.

This was the real Nico Fontaine—before grief stole his soul, before Veronica Sterling killed the woman he loved most.

Audrey wiped at her tears and reminded herself to focus.

She didn’t have much time.

She began searching the room: a wardrobe packed with expensive dresses that still held a faint trace of gentle perfume, a vanity with drawers filled with glittering jewelry, a bookshelf lined with romance novels, their pages dog-eared.

But there was no music box.

She looked under the table, behind the curtains, inside the nightstand.

Still nothing.

Time was slipping away.

Every second in here was dangerous.

Finally, Audrey dropped to her knees and looked beneath the bed.

The flashlight beam fell into a dark corner, and she saw it—an old wooden trunk coated in dust.

She dragged it out and lifted the lid with trembling hands.

Inside were small keepsakes, photographs, love letters.

And tucked into one corner, wrapped in red velvet, was the music box.

Audrey lifted it gently.

An antique wooden music box carved with roses so intricate every detail seemed alive. The wood had darkened with time, yet it still carried an elegant, noble beauty.

She opened the lid.

“Clair de Lune” drifted out—soft and aching in the dead of night.

The notes fell like the tears of the departed, telling the story of a love stolen with brutal cruelty.

And then Audrey saw it.

Inside the music box, beneath the velvet lining, was a neatly folded letter and a small silver USB drive.

Audrey took the letter out, her hands shaking so badly she could barely unfold it. She opened it and began to read under the flashlight.

“My beloved Nico, if you are reading this letter, I am no longer by your side. I am sorry I did not tell you sooner. I was too afraid and I was not certain. Veronica is not the person she pretends to be. I have seen her with another man. They call him the fox. I heard them discussing something terrible. Dr. Harris has been giving me supplements that make me weaker every day. I believe they are poisoning me. I have recorded everything I can on the USB. Please, my love, be careful. Do not let her harm you. I will love you forever. Forever yours, Kate.”

Silent tears fell onto the letter, blurring the dead woman’s handwriting.

Audrey cried.

She cried for Kate Fontaine, a woman who had known she was about to die and still thought of the husband she loved. She cried for Nico Fontaine, the man who had lost the love of his life without ever knowing the truth.

And she cried for herself—a small maid who now held a secret that could change everything.

She had proof now.

The letter and the USB were weapons that could expose Veronica Sterling.

But first, she had to get out of here.

Audrey hurriedly folded the letter and shoved it into her inner pocket along with the USB. Her heart hammered out of control, and her hands shook so badly she nearly dropped the music box.

She set the music box back in the trunk, pushed the trunk under the bed, and rose to leave.

And at that exact moment, the lights came on.

The sudden glare made Audrey squeeze her eyes shut for a beat.

When she opened them, her heart seemed to drop into an abyss.

Veronica Sterling stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with smug satisfaction. She wore a silk robe the color of blood, blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, icy blue eyes fixed on Audrey like frost.

“Well, well, well,” Veronica said, her voice slow and menacing. “What do we have here? A little mouse sneaking into a place she doesn’t belong.”

Audrey jolted backward, her back striking the edge of the bed.

She tried to keep her face calm, but her heart was pounding so violently she was afraid Veronica could hear it.

“Miss Veronica…”

Veronica stepped into the room, her high heels clicking on the dust-coated floorboards. Her gaze swept the space—from the trunk beneath the bed to the disturbed dust on the floor—then settled on Audrey’s ashen face.

“What are you looking for in here, little mouse?” Veronica asked, her voice turning sweet in a way that was terrifying. “Who do you think you are to come into this room? Don’t you know this is forbidden?”

Audrey tried to swallow, her voice trembling.

“I… I just got lost. I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk and got lost—”

Veronica cut her off with a cold laugh that sliced through the night silence.

“Lost at two in the morning. Lost into a locked room on the third floor. How stupid do you think I am?”

She moved closer, each step feeling like a knife driven into Audrey’s heart.

The distance between them shrank until Veronica stood directly in front of her, icy blue eyes looking down with contempt.

“What are you hiding?” Veronica’s voice sharpened like a razor.

Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed Audrey by the collar and yanked her forward. Audrey didn’t have time to react before Veronica began searching her apron pockets.

A hand tipped with nails painted blood red shoved into every corner, hunting for anything suspicious.

Audrey held her breath.

The letter and the USB were in her inner pocket, not in the apron.

After a minute, Veronica found nothing.

She let Audrey go, but her eyes stayed narrowed with suspicion and anger.

“You’re playing some kind of game,” Veronica hissed through clenched teeth. “I don’t know what it is, but I’ll find out. You think you can fool me? A filthy little maid like you.”

Audrey said nothing, only lowered her head in silence.

She knew any word she spoke now could make everything worse.

Veronica stood there, studying Audrey as if weighing what to do with her prey.

Then she smiled—a cruel smile that made Audrey shudder.

“You know what? I don’t need to know what you’re looking for,” Veronica said, her voice frighteningly calm. “I only need to get rid of you. You trespassed in a forbidden area. That’s enough of a crime for you to disappear from this house. And from Chicago, too.”

She pulled her phone from her robe pocket and dialed with the casual ease of someone making a dinner reservation.

Audrey wanted to run—to snatch the phone, to scream—but she knew she couldn’t.

Any move would only make her look more guilty.

“Nico, sweetheart,” Veronica said, instantly turning sweet and weak again, the familiar performance slipping into place. “I’m sorry to bother you in the middle of the night, but I need you to come up to Kate’s room right now. Something happened. I caught a little mouse sneaking around in here.”

She ended the call and looked at Audrey with a victorious smile.

“Now we wait, little mouse. We wait and see how your boss is going to deal with you.”

Heavy footsteps sounded from the staircase.

Nico Fontaine appeared in the doorway, his sharp-featured face drawn with fatigue and irritation from being dragged out of sleep in the middle of the night. He wore a wrinkled white dress shirt, and his gray eyes were still red from lack of rest.

Behind him stood Finn O’Brien, his trusted bodyguard—a forty-year-old Irishman with a powerful build and a cold, unreadable face.

Nico’s gaze swept the room and stopped on Audrey.

The maid stood trembling in the dust-filled room, her face drained of color, her green eyes wide with fear.

“You,” Nico said, his voice icy and furious. “You again? You dared come in here—into this room.”

Before Audrey could open her mouth to explain, Veronica ran to Nico like a little bird seeking shelter. She clung to his arm, her blue eyes reddening as if she’d been crying, her lips trembling with fear and hurt.

“Nico,” Veronica whispered, her voice breaking weakly enough to sound pitiable. “I heard a strange noise, so I came up to check. I caught this girl rummaging through Kate’s things. She was looking for something in here. Nico, I think… I think she’s stealing.”

Audrey wanted to scream that it was all a lie, but her throat felt crushed shut and no sound would come.

She looked at Veronica’s flawless performance and felt despair sink to its very bottom.

Stealing.

Nico’s brow tightened, his tone thick with contempt.

“You dared steal from my wife.”

“No, I didn’t!” Audrey blurted.

Veronica didn’t miss a beat.

“Check her pockets, Nico,” Veronica said, concern sweet and false. “Kate’s diamond necklace—the one you gave her on your anniversary. I don’t see it in the jewelry box anymore. See if she took it.”

Nico nodded to Finn.

The bodyguard stepped toward Audrey, his face blank and cold.

“Sorry,” Finn said curtly.

He began to search her.

Audrey stood rigid, her heart hammering.

The letter and the USB were tucked into her inner pocket, hidden beneath layers of fabric.

If Finn didn’t search there—

But then the worst thing happened.

As Finn went through Audrey’s apron pocket, something glittering dropped to the floor with a sharp clink.

A diamond necklace.

Audrey stared down, eyes widening in horror.

She hadn’t taken it.

She didn’t even know where it had been in this room.

Yet there it was—in her pocket.

Veronica.

When Veronica had searched Audrey’s apron earlier, she hadn’t been looking for anything at all.

She had planted the necklace.

The trap had been set, and Audrey had walked right into it.

“I didn’t take it!” Audrey screamed, her voice raw with desperation. “I didn’t take it. She put it in my pocket. Please—you have to believe me.”

But Nico didn’t listen.

His gray eyes looked at Audrey with cold disappointment and deep contempt.

He picked up the necklace, his fingers stroking the diamonds as if he were touching the memory of his dead wife.

“I gave you a chance to work in this house,” Nico said, his voice dropping low, each word like a stone pressing down on Audrey’s chest. “I let the tea incident go. And this is how you repay me. Stealing from my wife. Trespassing in the room I forbade.”

“Mr. Fontaine, please listen to me,” Audrey cried, tears spilling freely. “I’m not a thief. I came here because I had to find something important. You’re in danger.”

She pointed at Veronica, her voice shaking.

“She’s going to kill you like she killed Kate.”

Silence swallowed the room.

Nico stood frozen, something unreadable flashing through his gray eyes.

Then Veronica shattered the moment with a small laugh filled with pity.

“Poor thing,” Veronica said, her voice sweet and drenched in fake compassion. “The girl has gone crazy. She’s making up stories to escape punishment. Nico, don’t listen to her. She’s just a filthy thief.”

Nico looked at Audrey for one more second.

Then he turned away.

His shoulders went rigid, his hand clenched around the diamond necklace.

“Get her out,” Nico said, his voice stripped of feeling. “And make sure she never works anywhere in this city again. The Fontaine family does not need traitors.”

Finn nodded and seized Audrey’s arm.

She struggled. She fought.

She tried to scream out a final warning.

“Please listen! Kate was murdered. You’re next. She left proof. You have to—”

But no one listened.

Finn dragged her out of the room, down the stairs, through the long dark corridors.

Audrey kept shouting, kept begging, but it was all meaningless.

She was only a maid.

Her words had no weight in the world of powerful men.

The iron gates of the Fontaine estate opened, then slammed shut behind her with a booming clang that echoed into the night.

Audrey stood there in the vast darkness at three in the morning.

No money.

No phone.

Nowhere to go.

Nothing but the clothes on her back and despair pressing down on her heart.

Then she reached into her inner pocket.

The letter was still there.

The USB was still safe.

Veronica had won tonight’s battle.

But the war wasn’t over.

The Chicago night wind cut into Audrey’s skin like thousands of tiny blades. She walked along an empty road, her feet trapped in thin canvas shoes soaked through with night dew.

She had no money, no phone, no place to stay—nothing but the clothes on her body and despair pressing down inside her chest.

But in her inner pocket, Kate’s letter and the small USB drive still rested in silence.

Proof that could save the life of a man sleeping in his enemy’s arms without knowing it.

Audrey walked for nearly an hour through Chicago’s dark streets—from wealthy suburbs lined with dazzling mansions to working-class blocks where old apartments were stacked one on top of another.

She had only one place left to go.

Maggie Torres’s small apartment.

On the fourth floor of a run-down building with cracked concrete stairs and hallways that smelled of damp rot, Audrey climbed step by step and knocked.

At four in the morning, Maggie opened the door in wrinkled pajamas, her black curls a wild mess, her brown eyes heavy with sleep.

But the moment she saw Audrey, she snapped fully awake.

“Oh my God,” Maggie cried, pulling Audrey inside. “What happened to you? You look like you got hit by a car. Your face is drained white. Your lips are purple from the cold. Come in—come in. Hurry.”

Audrey sank onto the worn sofa in Maggie’s cramped apartment, wrapped in a wool blanket and given a cup of hot tea.

Then she began to tell her everything.

About breaking into Kate’s room. About the music box and the letter hidden inside. About Veronica catching her and setting the trap. About the diamond necklace falling from Audrey’s pocket like perfect proof of theft.

About Nico’s cold contempt as he ordered her thrown out.

When Audrey finished, Maggie sat in stunned silence, her face gone pale with shock.

“That… Maggie ground out through her teeth. “That evil—she set you up from the start.”

Audrey nodded, then pulled the letter and the USB from her pocket.

“But I still have these,” Audrey said. “The proof Mrs. Kate left behind. We need to see what’s on the USB.”

Maggie grabbed her old laptop, plugged in the USB, and opened it.

The screen lit up, showing a folder filled with different files.

The first file was a video.

Kate Fontaine had secretly recorded it from a hidden angle.

In the video, Veronica Sterling was kissing an unfamiliar man.

He was tall, with black hair and a long scar running down his left cheek.

They were talking about something—their voices too low to make out clearly, but enough to show this wasn’t an ordinary meeting.

The second file was an audio recording.

Dr. Harris, the Fontaine family’s private physician, spoke clearly.

“The dosage for Mrs. Kate needs to be increased. She’s starting to suspect. We have to move faster.”

The remaining files were images.

Receipts for chemicals purchased from a pharmaceutical company.

Messages between Veronica and the man she called baby, with lines like everything is going according to plan and soon we will have it all.

Maggie read through them, hands trembling, her face turning white as paper.

“This is… this is real,” Maggie whispered. “Mrs. Kate was truly murdered—not a heart attack. She was poisoned. And Veronica is the one who did it.”

“We have to go to the police,” Maggie said, her voice sharp with determination.

But Audrey shook her head, her eyes exhausted yet clear.

“We can’t. The Fontaine family owns half the Chicago police. They’ll bury the evidence before it ever reaches anyone who can help us. Veronica will know immediately, and she’ll find a way to erase everything.”

“Then how?” Maggie asked, her voice cracking with despair.

Audrey looked out the window.

The sky was shifting from black to gray, the first threads of dawn beginning to appear on the horizon. The wedding would take place that afternoon—less than twelve hours away.

“I have to put the proof directly into Nico’s hands,” Audrey said, her voice strangely steady. “At the wedding today.”

Maggie stared at her like she was insane.

“Are you out of your mind? You’ll never get past security. You were fired. Your face is known. They’ll grab you the second you step inside the church.”

“I know,” Audrey said, nodding. Her green eyes lit with determination. “But I have to try. It’s his only chance. If I don’t act, Nico Fontaine will die—and I can’t live with that.”

Audrey couldn’t sleep.

She sat on the worn sofa in Maggie’s small apartment, eyes locked on the laptop screen, watching and re-watching the evidence Kate Fontaine had left behind.

Every time she watched, she noticed something new.

The triumphant look in Veronica’s eyes as she kissed the unknown man.

Dr. Harris’s cold voice as he spoke about dosage.

The messages loaded with meaning about the plan, about our future.

Kate had known.

She had known she was going to die and had tried to leave everything for her husband.

But Nico never found it.

And now, two years later, history was about to repeat itself.

Audrey looked out the window. The sky was still black.

She thought of Tommy—her brother—lying in the hospital, unaware that his sister had been fired, framed for theft, and thrown out into the street in the middle of the night.

A sixteen-year-old boy with a fragile heart was still waiting for the surgery that could save his life.

Two hundred thousand dollars—a number that now felt farther away than it had ever been.

If Audrey died tomorrow, who would take care of Tommy?

Who would pay the hospital bills?

Who would hold his hand when fear closed in on him?

But if she didn’t act, Nico Fontaine would die—an innocent man killed by the very person he trusted most.

And Veronica Sterling—a murderer—would continue walking free, enjoying the wealth and power she had stolen with blood.

Audrey stared at Maggie’s phone on the table.

She needed to hear Tommy’s voice one last time.

She picked it up and called the hospital.

After a few rings, Tommy’s voice came through—weak but cheerful the way it always was.

“Audrey? Hey—why are you calling at this hour? It’s only five in the morning. Are you okay? You sound tired.”

Audrey swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing her voice to sound normal.

“I’m fine, sweetheart. I just worked late. I wanted to hear your voice, so I called a little early.”

“You work too much,” Tommy said, worry threading through his words. “Don’t worry about me. The doctor says I’m getting better every day. In a few days, I’ll be able to walk around the room again. You have to eat properly, okay? Don’t skip meals to save money for me.”

Tears slid silently down Audrey’s cheeks.

She smiled even though she knew Tommy couldn’t see it.

“You’re being so good. I love you, Tommy. Remember that always—no matter what happens, I love you.”

“What are you saying? That’s so weird,” Tommy giggled. “You sound like you’re about to go really far away. I love you too. I’ll see you soon. Okay?”

Audrey’s throat tightened, her voice shaking.

“Yes. I’ll see you soon.”

She ended the call and let the tears fall freely.

She cried for Tommy.

She cried for herself.

She cried for the uncertain road ahead.

Maggie sat beside her in silence, holding her hand, saying nothing—because she didn’t know what words could possibly fit.

When dawn finally broke, Audrey stood up.

She put on the maid uniform again—the one Maggie had kept for her—and carefully hid the music box with the letter and the USB in her inner pocket.

Maggie stood at the door, brown eyes red with worry.

She pulled Audrey into a tight embrace, her voice thick and unsteady.

“Be careful. Please come back alive. I’ll be waiting here.”

Audrey nodded, hugged Maggie hard, then let her go.

“I’ll try.”

She stepped outside into the morning light, sunlight touching her face.

Ahead of her lay the road to St. Patrick’s Cathedral—to the wedding of the century, to the fate of her own life and Nico Fontaine’s.

St. Patrick’s Cathedral rose in the heart of Chicago like a timeless Gothic masterpiece.

Today, the church was more lavishly adorned than ever—dressed in thousands of pure white flowers and shimmering silver ribbons.

The wedding of the century, belonging to the most powerful mafia boss in Chicago, had drawn the attention of the entire city.

Hundreds of luxury cars lined the street—Rolls-Royce, Bentley, Maybach—each one worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Security was tightened to a suffocating degree.

Bodyguards in black suits stood everywhere.

Metal detectors were set at every entrance, and the guest list was checked carefully, one name at a time.

Audrey stood across the street, hidden behind a large tree, watching it all with a heart racing out of control.

She knew she couldn’t go through the main doors.

Her face had been recognized.

Her name had been blacklisted.

If any guard recognized her, she would be seized immediately—or worse.

So she circled around to the back of the cathedral, where a service entrance was reserved for staff.

Catering trucks were parked there, workers bustling as they carried food and drinks inside.

Just then, a middle-aged woman in a server’s uniform hurried past, spotted Audrey, and snapped at her.

“Hey, you! Are you the new one on the service team? Why are you standing there? We’re desperately short-staffed. Get in here now.”

Audrey nodded, forcing her face into something normal.

“Yes. I got turned around. I didn’t know which entrance to use.”

“Follow me,” the woman said.

She grabbed Audrey’s hand and pulled her through the kitchen door.

And just like that, Audrey slipped inside the church.

Her heart pounded like a war drum, cold sweat breaking across her forehead.

The first step had worked.

But this was only the beginning.

Audrey threaded her way through the crowded kitchen area, trying to blend into the swarm of catering staff.

As she stepped out into a side corridor, she suddenly froze.

Finn O’Brien—Nico’s trusted bodyguard—was patrolling just ahead.

Audrey darted behind a thick stone pillar, holding her breath.

Her heart hammered so violently she feared he could hear it.

Finn walked past with steady steps.

Then he stopped.

Audrey didn’t breathe.

Her body went rigid as stone.

Finn’s eyes swept the corridor as if he sensed something wrong.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Then he shrugged and kept walking.

Audrey exhaled shakily, her legs trembling so hard she nearly collapsed.

But she had no time to panic.

She had to keep moving.

Audrey slipped along the side corridor toward the main hall of the cathedral.

She could hear classical music echoing from inside.

The murmur of hundreds of guests.

She was close.

Then the door ahead opened.

Audrey didn’t have time to react before Veronica Sterling stepped out—radiant in a pure white wedding gown—followed by bridesmaids in pale pink.

Audrey turned her face away at once, pretending to wipe a framed picture on the wall.

Her heart stopped.

If Veronica recognized her, it would all be over.

Veronica walked past, the faint trail of expensive perfume drifting through the air.

She was laughing, talking to the bridesmaids, her voice bright with joy and triumph.

She didn’t look at Audrey.

She didn’t recognize the filthy maid she had thrown out the night before.

When the sound of footsteps faded, Audrey finally dared to breathe again.

Her heart was still skittering, her hands and legs shaking.

But she couldn’t stop.

At last, Audrey reached the main hall of the cathedral.

She stood in a shadowed corner behind a stone pillar and looked out at the scene before her.

Five hundred high-society guests sat on long pews upholstered in red velvet—politicians, business tycoons, underworld power brokers.

They were all here, wrapped in expensive fabric and glittering jewelry, to witness the wedding of the century.

Flowers everywhere.

Candles glowing.

A symphony ensemble playing soft classical pieces.

And at the front—before the solemn altar—Nico Fontaine stood waiting.

He wore a perfect black suit, hair slicked neatly back, handsome as always.

But his gray eyes were empty—hollow—like a man walking toward death without knowing it.

Audrey lifted a hand to the music box hidden in her inner pocket.

The letter and the USB were still there.

The proof that could save his life was still there.

“Now or never,” she whispered to herself.

Just then, the wedding music swelled.

Every guest rose and turned toward the main doors.

Veronica Sterling entered—dazzling in a Vera Wang gown worth a million dollars, pure white, a train stretching for meters and studded with thousands of shimmering crystals.

A priceless French lace veil.

A bouquet of white roses in her hands.

She looked radiant—like a queen stepping into her kingdom.

Guests murmured in admiration.

Cameras flashed.

Veronica smiled—the victorious smile of someone about to get everything she wanted.

She moved toward the altar.

Toward Nico.

Toward the blood-soaked future she had already written.

Audrey gripped the music box in her pocket.

It was time.

Veronica Sterling stopped beside Nico Fontaine, her pure white wedding gown glowing beneath the crystal chandeliers.

She offered her hand to him, her smile radiant like a queen at her coronation.

Nico took her hand, his face still blank, like a man sleepwalking.

The elderly priest stood before the altar, his deep gentle voice carrying through the cathedral.

“Today we are gathered here before God and before these witnesses to bear witness to the sacred union of Nico Fontaine and Veronica Sterling in holy matrimony.”

Audrey stood in the far corner of the church, her heart pounding as if it might shatter.

She knew she didn’t have much time.

Once the vows were spoken, once Nico said “I do,” it would all be over.

Veronica would become Mrs. Fontaine in the eyes of the law.

And Nico would become prey in the hands of an enemy.

With no way out, Audrey started moving.

She slipped through the crowded pews, pushing past guests whose eyes were fixed on the altar, ignoring suspicious stares and irritated whispers.

“Who are you?”

“Where are you going?”

“Why are you pushing through like that?”

Audrey didn’t answer.

She kept moving forward, eyes locked on Nico’s silhouette at the end of the church.

The closer she got to the altar, the more doubtful looks turned toward her.

Some of the guards began to notice, scanning the strange maid who was behaving so oddly.

The priest’s voice continued, slow and solemn.

“Nico Fontaine, do you take Veronica Sterling to be your lawful wedded wife—to love and to cherish her in sickness and in health until death parts you?”

Nico opened his mouth.

Audrey’s scream tore through the cathedral’s hush, echoing through the vast space, striking the high-vaulted ceiling and crashing back like thunder.

“Stop!”

Five hundred heads turned at once.

Five hundred pairs of eyes fixed on the thin maid in a black uniform standing in the aisle.

Veronica went pale, icy blue eyes widening in horror.

She recognized Audrey instantly.

The little mouse she had thrown out last night.

The little mouse who should have vanished from Chicago.

Yet here she was—in the middle of Veronica’s wedding, before five hundred high-society guests.

Audrey didn’t wait.

She ran up to the front, her canvas shoes thudding against the marble floor.

Guards surged from every direction like wolves.

But she was faster.

She grabbed Nico’s arm, her green eyes meeting his gray ones with pure, desperate intensity.

“Mr. Fontaine—you need to see this. She’s going to kill you. Like she killed Kate.”

Nico flinched, his expressionless face breaking for the first time into shock.

“You… what are you doing here? Have you lost your mind?”

Veronica’s scream sliced through the air—sharp with panic.

“Security! Get this lunatic out right now. She’s insane. She’s delusional. Someone do something!”

Guards lunged, strong arms reaching for Audrey.

But Audrey didn’t let go of Nico.

She tightened her grip and screamed with every ounce of strength left in her body.

“Kate was murdered! Veronica killed her! And she’ll do the same to you. I have proof!”

The words ricocheted through the cathedral.

Five hundred guests stood frozen.

No one dared breathe too loudly.

No one knew how to react.

Nico stared at Audrey.

For the first time, his gray eyes were no longer empty.

There was something in this maid’s eyes—not madness, the way Veronica claimed, not the delusions of someone unwell.

It was real desperation, bone-deep sincerity, and a blaze of determination he had never seen in anyone.

Before the guards could lay hands on her, Audrey used all her strength to drag Nico toward the coat room beside the altar.

He didn’t understand why, but instinct made him follow.

His feet moved on their own.

The coat room door opened—then slammed shut behind them with a heavy crash.

Outside, chaos erupted.

Veronica screamed like a mad woman, her beautiful face twisted with fury and fear.

Guests murmured and surged, whispers rolling like ocean waves.

Guards pounded on the coat room door, demanding it be opened.

But inside the small room, there were only two people.

Nico Fontaine—the most powerful mafia boss in Chicago.

And Audrey Shaw—the maid he had fired the night before.

They faced each other, breaths ragged, the air so tight it felt impossible to swallow.

This was the moment of fate.

The moment everything would change.

The coat room was cramped, holding only a large mirror, a few velvet chairs, and the dim glow of a single lamp hanging from the ceiling.

The commotion outside seemed to fade into the distance until there was only the ragged breathing of two people facing each other.

Audrey panted, her chest rising and falling, trembling hands reaching into her inner pocket.

Nico Fontaine stood there—sharp-featured and cold as ice—gray eyes fixed on her with contempt and fury.

“You have thirty seconds to explain,” Nico said, his voice low, each word a piece of cold stone. “Thirty seconds before I open the door and let them deal with you. Why should I believe a thief who was fired? Someone who trespassed in my wife’s room? Someone who just ruined my wedding in front of five hundred guests?”

Audrey didn’t flinch under that icy stare.

She had come too far to turn back.

She had risked everything to get here.

She would not quit with only one step left.

“You don’t have to believe me,” Audrey said, her voice strangely calm. “You only have to believe Kate.”

Then she pulled the music box from her pocket.

An antique wooden box carved with roses so delicate they looked alive—darkened by time, yet still breathtakingly beautiful.

Nico went utterly still.

His gray eyes widened.

His cold mask cracked for the first time.

He recognized it immediately.

How could he ever forget?

He had commissioned it for Kate from a craftsman in Florence, Italy. It was the wedding gift he had placed in her hands on the happiest day of their lives.

It was the last relic of a love he had believed was gone forever.

“This is Kate’s music box,” Nico said, his voice turning rough, as if something were tightening around his throat. “Where did you get it?”

“Mrs. Patterson gave me the key,” Audrey said, gently placing the music box into his hands. “Kate left something inside it for you. She knew she was going to die. She wanted you to know the truth.”

Nico held the music box with trembling hands.

Fingers that had pulled triggers without hesitation, fingers that had signed death sentences in the underworld, now shook like leaves in a storm.

He opened the lid.

“Clair de Lune” rose into the small room—soft and aching.

Notes so familiar they hurt.

This was Kate’s favorite piece.

This was the song they had danced to at their wedding seven years ago.

This was the melody he had hummed her to sleep on nights when she didn’t feel well.

Nico stood as if turned to stone, letting the music wrap around him like a warm embrace from the past.

Then he saw it.

Inside the music box, beneath the velvet lining, was a carefully folded letter.

He lifted it out and recognized the handwriting instantly.

Kate’s handwriting—soft, slightly slanted to the right, with tiny circles instead of dots over her i’s.

The handwriting he had read a hundred times in love letters from their early days.

Nico began to read.

And his world collapsed.

Each line was a blade driven into his heart.

Veronica is not the person she pretends to be.

I have seen her with another man.

They call him the fox.

Doctor Harris has been giving me supplements that make me weaker every day.

I believe they are poisoning me.

Nico’s face changed with every line—from doubt to shock, from shock to pain, from pain to a wild, furious rage.

His hand shook, crushing the letter until it wrinkled in his grip.

And then the unthinkable happened.

Tears rolled down the cheeks of the coldest mafia boss in Chicago.

For the first time in two years.

For the first time since the day Kate died.

He hadn’t cried at his wife’s funeral.

He hadn’t cried when he watched her lowered into the cold earth.

He had turned into ice, sealing away every feeling.

But now the tears came—unstoppable.

“Kate… my love,” Nico whispered, his voice shattering, the sound of a wounded animal. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Audrey stayed silent, giving him space for his grief.

She pulled a phone from her pocket—the one she had taken from a guest’s bag as she pushed through the crowd.

“And there’s this too,” Audrey said softly. “The USB has video and audio. Kate recorded everything.”

Nico took the phone and opened the files with hands that still trembled.

He saw Veronica and a man with a scar on his cheek kissing, laughing, talking about their future once he no longer existed.

He heard Dr. Harris discussing dosage for Mrs. Kate.

He read the messages between Veronica and her lover—sweet words she had never once given him.

Nico sank into a velvet chair, head in his hands, shoulders shaking in waves.

He had slept beside his wife’s killer for two years.

He had been about to marry his enemy.

How blind he had been.

After a long, painful minute of silence, Nico stood.

He wiped his tears with the back of his hand, adjusted his collar, and smoothed the creases on his suit shoulders.

When he lifted his head, his gray eyes had changed completely.

Gone was the emptiness of a man drowning in grief.

Gone was the coldness of a man who had given up on living.

In its place was the cold focus of a wolf locking onto its prey.

The ruthless stillness of a mafia boss about to tear his enemy apart.

He looked at Audrey, and something like gratitude flickered deep in his gray eyes.

“Thank you,” Nico said, quiet and final. “For everything.”

Then he stepped toward the door.

The coat room door flew open.

Nico Fontaine stepped out, his face ice-cold, gray eyes sharpened like blades.

Audrey followed behind him, her heart still racing.

But she knew the hardest part was over.

Outside, five hundred guests buzzed in agitation, whispers rolling like ocean waves.

Guards waited at the door, ready to seize the mad maid on command.

But Nico swept past them without a word.

Veronica rushed over at once, her million-dollar gown fluttering behind her, her beautiful face painted with worry and panic that was clearly staged.

“Nico, you’re finally out. What did that crazy girl say to you? Don’t believe her. She’s making things up to get revenge because you fired her. My love—look at me.”

Nico didn’t look at her.

Not a glance.

Not a single answer.

He walked straight up to the front where the elderly priest still stood, stunned and uncertain.

Nico stopped at the microphone, his cold gaze sweeping over five hundred waiting faces.

Then he spoke.

“The wedding is canceled. Effective immediately.”

Seven short words.

Without emotion.

Without hesitation.

Heavy as a mountain.

The cathedral went dead still.

One second.

Two.

Three.

No one dared breathe too loudly.

Then it exploded.

Whispers erupted like a swarm of bees—shocked murmurs, confused questions.

What is happening?

Has Fontaine lost his mind?

What did that maid say to him?

Veronica stood frozen in the aisle, her face as white as a corpse.

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

The wedding canceled.

After everything she had done—after two years of perfect planning, after killing Kate, after poisoning Nico with counterfeit love, after stepping right up to the gates of heaven—

“Nico!” Veronica screamed, shrill with panic. “What are you saying? You can’t do this to me. We’re about to be husband and wife. You can’t cancel the wedding in front of five hundred people.”

She ran to him, grabbed his sleeve, blue eyes shimmering with tears.

“My love, let me explain. That maid is lying. She wants to ruin our happiness. Don’t believe her. Believe me.”

Nico shoved her hand away as if it were a poisonous snake.

His gray eyes met Veronica’s for the first time since he had stepped out of the coat room, and that look froze her in place.

There was no detached indifference left.

No distant coldness.

There was only pure hatred—bone-deep revulsion.

“Explain what?” Nico asked, his voice low, each word a knife. “Explain how you murdered my wife. Or explain how you plan to murder me after the honeymoon.”

Veronica’s face drained.

Her legs threatened to buckle.

“You… what are you saying?”

Nico turned to Finn, standing nearby, and gave an order in a voice stripped of feeling.

“Call Detective Morrison. Tell him I have evidence in the murder of Katherine Fontaine—video, audio, and the victim’s handwritten letter. I want him here immediately.”

Veronica stood there with her mouth open, her face pale as paper.

She couldn’t believe what was happening.

How did Nico know?

How did he have proof?

Kate had been dead for two years.

Every trace had been erased.

No one could prove anything.

“And contact the brothers,” Nico continued, his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather. “I want to know where the fox—Derek Lawson—is. Within an hour.”

Veronica jolted as if struck by electricity.

She stared at Nico with horror.

“You… you know about Derek?”

“Now I do,” Nico replied, his voice colder than ice. “Kate left everything for me. Everything. Video of you and your lover kissing. Audio of Dr. Harris discussing dosage. Messages between you and the man you call baby. All of it.”

Veronica turned and looked at Audrey standing beside Nico.

And in that instant, her mask fell completely away.

The angelic beauty twisted into something demonic.

Blue eyes reddened with hatred.

Lips warped with fury.

Her whole body shook with venom.

“You!” Veronica screamed like a wounded animal. “This is all because of you. You filthy maid. I’m going to kill you!”

She lunged at Audrey like a crazed panther, blood-red nails lifted high, ready to rake her enemy’s face.

But Finn was faster.

The loyal bodyguard blocked her, locking his arms around her from behind.

Veronica thrashed violently, shrieking like someone unhinged.

“Let me go! Let me go right now! I’m Nico Fontaine’s wife. I’m the queen of this city. You have no right to touch me. You are nothing—”

“You are only a murderer who is about to pay for her crimes,” Nico said, his voice so cold it was frightening.

He turned to Finn.

“Keep her here. The police will be here in ten minutes.”

Five hundred guests stood as if carved from stone, watching the unbelievable scene unfold before them.

Many had already pulled out their phones to record.

The wedding of the century had become the arrest of the century.

And Veronica Sterling—the woman who had looked radiant like a queen moments earlier—was now screaming and struggling in a guard’s grip like a true criminal.

In the chaos at the cathedral, while everyone’s attention was fixed on Nico and his shocking declaration, Veronica saw her chance.

In a split second of Finn’s distraction, she wrenched herself free, shoved another guard who tried to block her, and sprinted for the rear exit of the church.

Her million-dollar wedding gown dragged behind her like a white burial shroud.

The crystals sewn into the fabric scattered across the marble floor as she ran.

She didn’t care about the shouting, the calls, the screams behind her.

There was only one thought in her head.

Run.

Escape.

The black limousine was still waiting at the back entrance where it should have carried the bride and groom to the reception.

Veronica threw herself into the car and screamed at the driver.

“To the airport—fast. Go now. One million dollars if you get me there in thirty minutes.”

The car shot forward like a bullet, leaving St. Patrick’s Cathedral and everything that had happened behind it.

Veronica sat in the back seat, trembling hands opening the handbag she always kept close.

Inside was a fake passport under the name Emily Carter, a thick stack of cash, and a backup phone.

She had prepared for this for a long time.

Plan B.

In case everything fell apart.

She ripped off her veil, yanked away her diamond tiara, then fought the cramped space to change out of the enormous wedding dress into a plain black coat she had already packed.

The expensive jewelry was shoved into a cloth pouch.

Her blonde hair was tied up tight.

In the rearview mirror, Veronica Sterling disappeared.

There was only an ordinary woman with a tired face running for her life.

“Just get on the plane,” she whispered to herself, forcing calm into her breath. “Just get to Europe. Derek has people in Paris. I’ll start over. I’ll be fine.”

The car stopped at O’Hare.

Veronica jumped out, threw a wad of cash at the driver, and ran into the international terminal.

She shoved through the crowd of travelers, eyes sweeping for any sign of danger.

Nothing.

No guards.

No police.

Only ordinary passengers rushing with their luggage.

She let out a breath of relief and walked to the Air France check-in counter.

The Paris flight would depart in two hours.

She handed over the fake passport, forcing her face into calm.

“One first-class ticket to Paris,” she said. “The earliest flight.”

The agent glanced at the passport, typed something into the computer, then smiled.

“Yes, Miss Carter. Please wait a moment.”

Veronica stood there, heart racing, eyes still flicking around the terminal.

Just get the ticket.

Just get through security.

Just get on the plane.

Then she would be free.

“Where do you think you’re going, Veronica?”

The familiar cold voice came from behind her.

Veronica froze, blood turning to ice.

She turned and saw the worst nightmare of her life.

Nico Fontaine stood there, still in his black wedding suit, gray eyes colder than frost.

Beside him were Finn O’Brien and a middle-aged man in a gray suit.

Detective Morrison of the Chicago Police Department.

Behind them, dozens of uniformed officers had sealed off the area.

“How?” Veronica stammered, her face bleaching dead white. “How did you know I was here?”

“Did you forget?” Nico stepped closer, each footfall sounding like a death bell. “I control this city. Every way out of Chicago has my people on it—the airport, the train station, the bus depot. Where exactly did you think you could run?”

Veronica backed up until her spine hit the check-in counter.

She forced the familiar seductive smile onto her mouth, her voice turning sweet and pleading.

“Nico, my love, let me explain. It isn’t what you think. That maid made it up. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

“Shut up,” Nico said, his voice sharp as a razor.

“I have Kate’s letter. Her recordings. Video of you and your lover holding each other while you plan to kill me. And Dr. Harris confessed when the police reached his house twenty minutes ago.”

He leaned in, gray eyes merciless.

“The game is over, Veronica.”

The mask fell completely away.

The angelic beauty twisted into something warped by rage and madness.

“So what?” Veronica screamed, her shrill voice stripped of every trace of femininity. “Kate was weak. She didn’t deserve you. She didn’t know how to keep a husband. I’m the perfect one for you. I did everything for us—”

“There was never an us,” Nico replied, his voice so cold it was terrifying. “There was only your greed. You don’t love me. You love my money, my power, my empire.”

Just then, Veronica saw Audrey standing behind Nico—the small maid with chestnut hair and green eyes, the one who had destroyed everything Veronica had built over two years.

Madness erupted.

Veronica lunged for Audrey like a wild animal, nails raised high, mouth howling with frenzy.

“You! If it weren’t for you, I would have had everything. I’m going to kill you. I’m going to tear you apart!”

Police officers surged forward at once, restraining Veronica and forcing her down to the floor.

The cold clack of handcuffs rang out as they locked around her wrists.

Veronica was hauled away, her face smeared with tears and mascara.

Her golden hair was now a tangled nest.

Her black coat hung crooked.

Her blood-red nails were snapped and broken.

The image of the proud queen shattered completely, leaving only a pathetic criminal screaming in the grip of the law.

The airport crowd buzzed, phones lifted from every angle, recording the moment the woman who had nearly become Chicago’s mafia queen collapsed.

“Nico!” Veronica screamed one last time as she was dragged toward the police car. “You’ll regret this. I swear you’ll regret this!”

Nico didn’t look back.

His voice was flat and cold.

“The only thing I regret is that I didn’t see through you sooner.”

Three months later, the trial for the murder of Katherine Fontaine came to an end with sentences that fit the crimes.

Veronica Sterling was sentenced to life in prison without parole for premeditated murder and conspiracy to commit murder.

When the judge read the sentence, she screamed in wild hysteria in the courtroom and had to be dragged out by officers while she continued to spit curses and threats.

Doctor Warren Harris received fifteen years for being an accomplice to murder.

His face was ashen when the handcuffs snapped shut.

Derek Lawson—the man called the Fox—was captured in a coordinated raid between the Fontaine family’s forces and federal agents, facing a long list of charges from conspiracy to murder to money laundering and trafficking illegal substances.

The case rocked all of Chicago and stayed on the front page of every newspaper for weeks.

People called it the Bloody Wedding case—a story of betrayal and justice carried out in front of the altar.

And within that story, there was a young woman whose name was spoken with a nickname.

The silent hero.

Audrey Shaw—the twenty-eight-year-old maid who had risked her life to shatter Veronica Sterling’s plot.

The press hunted her everywhere.

Television networks invited her to interviews.

Podcasts begged to tell her story.

But Audrey refused them all.

She didn’t want fame.

She didn’t need attention.

She only wanted a quiet life, far away from the drama and tragedies of the upper class.

One day, Audrey went to the University of Chicago Medical Center to visit Tommy, as she always did.

She was bracing herself to ask the doctor about her brother’s condition and to figure out how to scrape together more money for the surgery.

But the doctor stopped her with a bright smile.

“Miss Shaw, I have good news. Tommy’s surgery has been scheduled for next week. The cost has been paid in full.”

Audrey went still.

Surely she had misheard.

Two hundred thousand dollars.

“Who… who paid it?”

The doctor smiled, strangely cryptic.

“An anonymous benefactor. The only request was that we not disclose the person’s identity.”

Audrey knew instantly who it was.

Only one person had the power to do that.

Only one person had the reason.

Tears spilled over, but this time they were tears of happiness.

The surgery went smoothly.

Tommy recovered so quickly the doctors were stunned.

A healthy new heart beat steadily in the chest of a sixteen-year-old boy.

For the first time in his life, Tommy could run and play like other children.

Audrey held her brother tight in her arms, tears pouring without end.

“You’ll be okay, sweetheart. You’ll be okay.”

Elsewhere in the city, Nico Fontaine was living through changes of his own.

He founded a charity named Kate’s Hope Foundation, dedicated to supporting women and children who had been abused or deceived.

He donated eighty percent of his personal fortune to the foundation and handed most of his business over to Finn and an executive council.

Finn stood in Nico’s office, staring at his boss in disbelief.

“Boss… are you sure? You built this empire for twenty years. You really want to let all of it go?”

Nico looked out the window.

His gray eyes were no longer icy as before.

Now they held something that looked like peace.

“I’ve lived in darkness too long, Finn,” Nico said. “Kate wanted me to find the light. It’s time I did.”

That afternoon, Nico stood before Kate’s grave in a cemetery outside Chicago.

He set down a bouquet of white roses—the kind Kate had loved most—on the marble stone carved with her name.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you,” Nico said, his voice low and rough. “I’m sorry I was blind for two years. But I found the truth. The one who harmed you has paid the price.”

He swallowed, breath catching.

“And I found someone who reminds me of you. Someone with the same courage—the same kind heart. She saved me, Kate. Just like you saved me once.”

A gentle wind moved through the cemetery, stirring the white rose petals.

Nico smiled for the first time in two years, as if Kate were answering him from somewhere far away.

Six months later, Audrey Shaw’s life had changed completely.

She and Tommy now lived in a small, charming house in the suburbs of Chicago, with a garden full of flowers and a white-painted wooden fence around it.

Not a lavish mansion.

Not a cramped apartment in a working-class block.

A real home—a place where laughter echoed every day.

Tommy was healthy and bursting with energy out in the yard, throwing a ball with the neighborhood kids.

A sixteen-year-old boy with a new heart who could run, shout, and finally enjoy childhood the way ordinary kids did.

Audrey stood in the garden, hands smudged with soil, tending the new rose bushes she had planted.

A bright smile rested on her lips.

A peaceful smile she had never dared to dream of through all those difficult years.

The sound of an engine came from the end of the street.

Audrey lifted her head and saw an old green Jeep stop in front of the gate.

Not a Rolls-Royce.

Not a Bentley.

Not like the ones she had seen at the Fontaine mansion.

Just a simple, ordinary car.

The door opened and Nico Fontaine stepped out.

But this was no longer the cold mafia boss in an expensive Tom Ford suit.

He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, plain khaki pants, and canvas sneakers.

His sharp-featured face looked more sun-kissed now—healthier.

And his gray eyes.

The eyes that had once been cold as ice now held a warmth Audrey had never seen before.

“Uncle Nico!” Tommy shouted and ran to him like a small gust of wind.

The boy threw his arms around Nico with all the innocent joy of sixteen.

Nico laughed—a real laugh—and ruffled his hair.

“Hey, buddy. That new heart working well?”

“Amazing,” Tommy bragged, glowing. “I’m the fastest in my class. The doctor says I’m strong as an ox. Will you play catch with me?”

“In a bit,” Nico said, smiling. “I need to talk to your sister first.”

Tommy nodded, then ran back to his friends.

Audrey wiped her hands on her apron and stepped out of the garden, her heart beating fast in a way she didn’t understand.

She didn’t know why she suddenly felt nervous.

Nico walked closer and stopped a few steps away.

“Hi,” Nico said softly.

“Hi,” Audrey replied, feeling heat rise in her cheeks.

An awkward silence stretched between them.

They had faced a killer together, run from bodyguards, shattered a wedding of the century.

Yet now, they didn’t know what to say.

At last, Nico spoke.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about everything.”

“About you,” Audrey echoed, surprised.

“About me,” Nico said.

“You saved my life, Audrey,” Nico said, gray eyes meeting hers. “Not only from Veronica, but from myself. From the darkness I was drowning in for two years. You gave me a reason to keep living—to change—to become a better man.”

He paused and drew a slow breath.

“I’m opening a community center. For kids like Tommy. For families who need help. I’m calling it Hope House.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Audrey said, smiling.

“I need someone to run it,” Nico went on. “Someone with a kind heart. Someone who knows what it means to fight—to survive. Someone like you.”

“Me?” Audrey shook her head. “But I’m just—”

Nico stepped closer and took her hand.

For the first time, not in an emergency.

For the first time, simply because he wanted to.

“You’re not just anything, Audrey,” Nico said softly. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

He paused, his voice turning gentler.

“And I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance. A chance to know you. Not as your boss. Just as me.”

Audrey looked into those gray eyes—eyes that now felt warm like a small fire on a winter night.

She smiled.

“I want that.”

“Hey!” Tommy’s voice called from the yard. “Are you two going to play or what?”

Nico and Audrey laughed together.

They turned, hand in hand, and walked toward the boy waiting with the ball in his hands.

Golden sunset poured over the small garden, the lovely house, and the three people playing catch amid laughter that carried far.

They didn’t have supercars or mansions.

They had a small home, peaceful afternoons, and a love just beginning to bloom.

Audrey had risked her life to save a stranger—not for money, not for status, only because it was the right thing to do.

And Nico had learned that real strength wasn’t in an underworld empire, but in having the courage to let go and find himself again.

Sometimes the one who saves us doesn’t come from high society.

Sometimes an angel wears a maid’s uniform.

This story reminds us that courage doesn’t depend on status or money.

It lives in the human heart.

Sometimes it only takes one ordinary person willing to stand up and do what’s right to change an entire life.

And true love doesn’t have to be perfect.

It only needs to be sincere—and brave enough to sacrifice for each other.

Thank you for following this story all the way to the end.

How did this story make you feel?

In real life, have you ever met someone like Audrey—someone willing to risk everything for another person even with nothing to gain?

Share what’s in your heart in the comments below.

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Goodbye for now, and we’ll see you again in the next video.”