THE MAID'S SECRET
Tomiwa thought she was just taking a job but she walked into a mansion full of secrets.
Working for billionaire Chinedu Obiakor was supposed to be simple, but nothing about her new life is ordinary. Caught between duty, danger, and desire, Tomiwa finds herself torn between protecting a deadly secret and falling for the man she should fear the most.
A powerful, slow-burn romance full of drama, betrayal, and forbidden love.
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Chapter 5
The scarf was too beautiful to wear.
Midnight blue, stitched with delicate gold leaves. It looked like something worn by queens not housemaids.
I stared at it on my bed for minutes, unsure what message it carried
A gift?, a message?, a warning?
Or something more dangerous than all three?
I folded it back into the box, hands trembling slightly.
Whatever it meant, i knew this much:
Chinedu was not finished with me.
"Who gave you that?" Sarah's voice broke the silence.
I turned. She was standing by the laundry door, arms folded, her brows raised with curiosity and a hint of something sharper.
"No one," I said quickly.
She smirked, I saw the box this morning. Looked expensive.
I shrugged, folding towels. Maybe Madam forgot it in storage.
Sarah came closer, lips pursed, listen, Tomiwa you are new here, so let me just tell you don't get comfortable.
"I'm not." I replied.
Good, because comfort is how girls like us get used, then tossed.
I wanted to argue, but i did not
Not because i agreed but because i wasn't sure she was wrong.
By afternoon, a new presence arrived at the mansion.
A sleek black SUV rolled through the gates, the driver uniformed, the windows tinted. I was standing in the corridor with a tray of glasses when the door opened.
She stepped out like she owned the world.
A tall and stunning woman dressed in a blood-red dress and silver heels, how hair was pinned up like a crown, and her lips painted to match her clothes.
She did not smile, she did not look around.
She asked only one question,
"Where is Chinedu?"
The air shifted.
I stood frozen as Madam Amara, the head housekeeper, rushed forward with a greeting, Miss Onyeka we did not know you were coming.
Onyeka?
The name felt like a slap.
His ex?
His fiancé?
His everything?
They did not say, but the way she walked past us without even glancing in my direction told me everything I needed to know.
She belonged, i did not.
And worse? She knew it.
The house became quieter after that. Chinedu wasn't seen for hours. Rumors floated between the staff quarters like smoke.
"She's back."
"She wants him to go to Abuja."
"She's rich like oil money rich."
I tried to stay focused, but it was impossible, every time i passed a mirror, i wondered if i looked too curious, too close, too guilty.
By nightfall, i could not sit still.
I went to the garden, needing air, needing space.
That's where i found him
He was standing by the fountain, sleeves rolled up, shirt untucked, as if he had been pacing. The moonlight hit his cheek just right, casting him in silver and shadow.
He did not look surprised to see me.
I thought you had be sleeping, he said voice low.
"I couldn't."
"Me neither." he said.
I came closer. Is she staying?
He shook his head. Not if i can help it.
"Why is she here?"
"To remind me of who i used to be."
That answer made my heart beat faster. And who was that?
He looked at me. "Someone i hated."
"I don't think i could ever hate you," i whispered.
His breath caught just for a second.
"Don't say that yet," he said. "You don't know what i have done."
"I don't care."
He came closer, just enough that I could feel the warmth of him.
"You should care."
His eyes dropped to my lips.
"You should run."
I am tired of running, i replied,
That cracked something in him.
He reached up slowly and touched my cheek with the back of his fingers.
Not possessive.
Not hungry.
Just soft.
Like he was remembering a version of himself he had not seen in years.
"You are not like them," he said.
"I'm not trying to be."
He stepped back suddenly, jaw tight. That is the problem.
I blinked. "Why?"
"Because Onyeka will see it, she always sees it, and she kills what threatens her."
I swallowed hard. "What am i to you?"
He did not answer.
But he did not walk away either.
Later that night, i lay in bed staring at the scarf again.
There was no name stitched into the silk, no scent, no message.
But everything about it felt like a confession.
And i didn't know which terrified me more
That he was falling.
Or that i already had.
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Abandoned by the only family she had.
Ariel died with nothing... and no one.
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Her love.
Her identity.
Her power.
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The brother who abandoned her starts to regret.
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She's the one who makes them kneel.
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8.5
Alexandrea woke up with a splitting headache in a strange hotel bed, terrified to find a brutally handsome, half-naked stranger beside her.
Before she could even scream, the door burst open. Her adoptive mother, Ivette, stormed in with a swarm of reporters and flashing cameras.
"How could you disgrace our family name like this?"
Ivette sobbed, putting on a theatrical performance of a heartbroken mother. It was a setup to completely ruin Alexandrea's reputation in front of New York's elite.
For ten years, Alexandrea had lived in a house of horrors. Her back and arms were covered in silvery scars and puckered cigarette burns left by Ivette's vicious abuse.
Yet to the public, Ivette had carefully crafted Alexandrea's image as a wild, ungrateful, and manipulative liar.
Trapped under the duvet, Alexandrea was drowning in shame, her voice lost in the storm of accusations.
She didn't understand why her adoptive family hated her so much, treating her worse than a stray dog while using her brother's future to keep her chained.
But what she understood even less was the stranger beside her.
Instead of panicking, the man slowly sat up, his presence alone silencing the frantic room. He was Ace Griffith, the billionaire heir who owned half of Manhattan.
He wrapped his suit jacket around her trembling shoulders, looked Ivette dead in the eye, and dropped a bomb.
"I will be marrying her."
Then, he carried Alexandrea away from her ten-year prison, ordering his men to dig up the Terry family's darkest secrets and her true identity.
7.8
Twenty minutes before the "Wedding of the Century" at The Plaza, I stood outside the Presidential Suite in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown. I was the girl from a West Virginia trailer park about to marry Hugh Maxwell, the golden heir to a billion-dollar defense empire.
I pushed the door open only to find Hugh pinned against the bed with my own stepsister, Floy. She was wearing my bridal diamond necklace, and the sounds of their laughter scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper.
I didn't scream; I listened as Hugh grunted that once the wedding was over and the trust fund unlocked, he’d dump "that hillbilly trash" on a bus back to the mountains. They weren't just cheating; they were planning to steal my family’s land deeds and leave me with nothing. When I set off the sprinklers and exposed their naked bodies to the paparazzi, the Maxwell family didn't apologize. They called me a "greedy peasant" and threatened to ruin my life unless I signed a new deal to save their crashing stock.
I realized then that I was never a bride to them. I was a transaction, a rounding error in a ledger to be used and discarded. They thought my poverty made me weak and my silence made me a victim.
"If we don't have a marriage certificate by midnight, the bank freezes thirty percent of our liquidity," their lawyer warned.
So, I gave them exactly what they wanted. I used a loophole in their hundred-year-old family covenant and married the only other direct heir available. I didn't marry Hugh. I walked into the ICU and married his uncle, Fleet Maxwell—the legendary war hero who had been in a vegetative state for months.
Now, I am the matriarch of the Maxwell dynasty. I’ve suspended Hugh’s executive powers, exiled my mother-in-law to the Swiss Alps, and taken control of the family vault. They think I’m just a gold-digger waiting for a "corpse" to die so I can collect a fifty-million-dollar widow's payout.
But last night, as I lay beside my comatose husband, the man they called a vegetable gripped my hand back.
9.6
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The richest supernatural billionaire in the city. The most feared Alpha of the most powerful pack. Untouchable. And cursed, or so he believes is unable to smell his true mate.
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She knows the truth. She knows he is her mate. But revealing herself would put them both in danger, and risk exposing secrets she has fought to keep buried.
Now, every glance, every accidental touch, every near encounter drags them closer to a connection neither of them can deny.
In a city of shadows, power, and hidden wolves, can love survive when the bond cannot be smelled, yet cannot be ignored?
7.7
It's common knowledge that Ethan married me only because I look like his first love.
Three years of marriage, and he never once slept with me, because he thought it would be a desecration of his first love.
On the surface, I was madly in love with him. In reality, I was blowing through his money like crazy and keeping a man on the side.
But now there's a problem.
The man I've been keeping… how does he look exactly like the richest man in New York? And even have the same name?