Stealing My Life? Dream On!

The maid's daughter, who grew up in my home, had the nerve to act like an heiress.

On her birthday, she invited every kid from school for a full-on rager at my family's villa.

When I suggested they take it to a hotel, she lost it. "You don't get to tell me what to do! My friends can party wherever they want!"

She added, "The ten-layer cake my parents ordered for me is on the way. Why don't you park yourself by the door and wait for it, huh?"

Her crew circled up, laughing and pointing at me.

But I'd lived through this before. Nothing about her little act rattled me.

I turned to the butler and told him to lock the gate. Then, I went to Rambo's cage. "Hey, buddy," I said, opening it up. "See those trespassers?" I pointed at the crowd. "I'm counting to three. If they're still here, don't let a single one get away."

The second Rambo strutted in, the whole room froze. Not a peep from the crowd.

I flicked a look at Robert, the butler, and jerked my chin at the door. He got the hint and opened it. With a little smirk, I let the iron chain slide through my fingers. "Told you before—this isn't your playground. Scram."

Brenda Bart shrieked and stormed over. "Claire Sinclair! What are you doing! These are my friends!"

Her panicked little act only made me grin wider. "Your friends, your birthday—what's that got to do with my family?"

Brenda gasped sharply; her eyes went wide. "Didn't you hear me? Tie up that stupid dog! Everyone's here for my party. Even if you're jealous, don't ruin the vibe!"

The crowd murmured like a flock of pigeons, falling for her fake innocence. I didn't even blink, just started pacing with Rambo, steering Brenda's guests toward the exit.

"Jealous?" I scoffed. "Of you? Please. Why would I envy the maid's kid who doesn't even know who her dad is?"

Once, I'd called Brenda family. Now, seeing her cheeks flush deep red as I aired her dirty laundry? That was just justice.

"You're lying!" she screamed, voice cracking. "Claire, you... you're just a dog trainer! How dare you twist the truth like this!"

I cocked an eyebrow, amused by Brenda's desperation. "Miranda, still eavesdropping? Your kid's gutsy enough to insult me to my face. You planning to let that slide—or are you ready to pack your bags?"

The maid herself, Miranda Bart, slinked out from behind the door, her face stormy. But instead of shutting Brenda down, she grabbed my arm. "What are you trying to pull?" she hissed. "You're ruining Miss Brenda's party. Come with me. Now."

Her grip left an angry red mark, but she wasn't done. Oh no, she had a whole lecture locked and loaded.

"If it weren't for Miss Brenda's generosity, you'd still be on the streets! You should be grateful. Tie up that mutt! If it scares her friends, you'll pay for it, Claire."

The crowd didn't miss a beat, piling on with their little comments.

"So she's not the big deal she pretends to be. Just a dog trainer."

"Being around rich people doesn't make you one of them, Claire. What's wrong with you?"

"Tie up the dog already! Ruin Brenda's party, and you'll regret it!"

Regret it? Sure.

I let the leash slide free and shot Brenda a look, my smirk cutting right through her smug little act. "Let's see who's regretting things by the end of today."

Rambo didn't wait for a second invitation. It leapt, slamming Brenda flat to the ground. The room erupted into chaos—screams, scrambling feet, the whole nine yards.

While everyone else lost it, I stayed focused. Miranda was wide open, and I didn't waste the chance. I slapped her hard. Once. Twice. Thrice... By the time I was done, her face was puffing up like a balloon.

Dusting off my hands, I straightened up. "A bunch of servants, thinking they can boss around the master? Guess I'll have to remind you who's in charge."