Victor Hayes had killed men for less than what I had done.

I had entered his private study without permission, touched him without consent, and fallen asleep on his chest while he was unconscious.

And now I was doing the one thing nobody in his organization had ever dared to do.

I was breathing peacefully while lying on top of him.

Victor stared at me.

The pistol remained in his right hand, but its barrel slowly lowered.

For several seconds, he didn’t move.

He studied my face, the loose strands of hair falling across my cheek, and the tiny crease between my eyebrows. My cheap cleaning uniform was wrinkled, one sleeve was damp, and my fingers were still curled around a dirty cleaning cloth.

Then he noticed something.

My cheek rested directly over the wound on his shoulder.

His eyes narrowed.

He carefully shifted my weight, and a sharp breath escaped between his teeth.

The pain was severe.

But he didn’t push me away.

Instead, he looked toward the locked study door.

“Paul.”

His voice was low.

The intercom crackled almost immediately.

“Yes, boss?”

“Get in here.”

Within seconds, the lock clicked.

Paul entered with another armed guard behind him.

Both men stopped ᴅᴇᴀᴅ.

Paul’s eyes moved from Victor’s face to the woman sleeping across his chest.

Then to the pistol in Victor’s hand.

Then back to Victor.

For perhaps the first time in his career, Paul’s mouth opened without producing a single word.

Victor looked at him coldly.

“Why are you staring?”

Paul swallowed.

“Boss… should I remove her?”

Victor’s expression changed.

It wasn’t anger exactly.

It was something much more dangerous.

“Touch her, and you’ll lose that hand.”

Paul immediately lowered his eyes.

“Understood.”

Victor looked down at me again.

“How long has she been here?”

“Since approximately midnight. You ordered everyone to leave you alone.”

“And nobody checked on her?”

Paul hesitated.

“She was cleaning the glᴀss. I ᴀssumed she’d finished and gone.”

Victor’s jaw тιԍнтened.

“ᴀssumptions get people killed.”

Paul nodded.

Then Victor gave another order.

“Bring me the medical kit. And call Dr. Bennett. Tell him I’m changing my mind.”

Paul looked startled.

“You said no doctor.”

Victor’s eyes hardened.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

The two men disappeared.

Victor lowered his head again.

For a moment, his expression became almost unreadable.

He had spent years training himself not to trust anyone.

Yet somehow, a twenty-three-year-old housekeeper had fallen asleep against him, and his body had accepted her presence without a fight.

That had never happened before.

Not even once.

I woke to the sound of a man’s voice.

“Don’t move.”

My eyes opened.

For one horrifying second, I couldn’t understand where I was.

Then I felt the hard surface beneath my cheek.

The warmth around my waist.

And the unmistakable scent of expensive cologne mixed with blood.

I lifted my head.

Victor Hayes was staring directly at me.

My soul nearly left my body.

“Oh my God!”

I scrambled backward so quickly that my elbow struck the edge of the sofa.

“I’m sorry! Mr. Hayes, I’m so sorry!”

My knees hit the carpet.

I bowed my head repeatedly.

“I didn’t mean to touch you. You were having a nightmare, and you grabbed me. I tried to move, but you told me to stay. I swear I wasn’t trying to—”

“Stop.”

I immediately fell silent.

Victor watched me.

His shirt was now partially open, exposing the blood-soaked bandage around his shoulder. His dark hair was disheveled, and his face was pale, but his eyes remained terrifyingly sharp.

“What’s your name?”

I blinked.

He knew my name.

Of course he knew my name.

My employment records were in his office, and my brother’s debt was recorded under his financial accounts.

But I answered anyway.

“Elena Carter, sir.”

“How old?”

“Twenty-three.”

“How long have you worked here?”

“Three months.”

He studied my face.

“Why were you still working at three in the morning?”

My throat тιԍнтened.

“My shift was supposed to end at eleven, but there was a lot to finish.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I swallowed.

“I needed the extra hours.”

“Because of your brother?”

My stomach dropped.

“Yes, sir.”

Victor leaned back slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at his wound.

“How much do you still owe me?”

I looked down.

“Forty-two thousand dollars.”

Silence.

Then he asked something I hadn’t expected.

“How many hours did you work today?”

“Eighteen.”

His expression darkened.

“Eighteen?”

I nodded.

“Why?”

“Because Liam missed another payment, and I was told the balance would increase if I didn’t make up the difference.”

Victor’s eyes shifted toward the doorway.

“Who told you that?”

I hesitated.

“Mr. Paul.”

The room became very quiet.

Victor’s fingers тιԍнтened around the pistol.

“Paul.”

The door opened almost immediately.

“Boss?”

“Did you tell this woman her brother’s debt would increase if she didn’t work extra hours?”

Paul’s expression changed.

“She was behind on the payment schedule. I was simply explaining the consequences.”

Victor looked at him for a long moment.

“Did I authorize you to charge her additional interest?”

Paul said nothing.

That silence was enough.

Victor slowly placed the pistol on the table.

“Get out.”

“Boss—”

“Now.”

Paul disappeared.

I sat frozen on the carpet.

I had never seen anyone speak to Victor Hayes like that.

More importantly, I had never seen Victor defend someone like me.

But the strangest part was still coming.

Dr. Bennett arrived fifteen minutes later.

He examined Victor’s shoulder, changed the dressing, and ordered him to remain still.

“You’re lucky the bullet didn’t penetrate deeper,” he muttered. “Another hour without proper treatment, and we’d be discussing a very different outcome.”

Victor ignored the lecture.

His attention remained on me.

I was standing near the bookshelves, holding my cleaning cloth, desperately hoping someone would tell me I could leave.

Finally, the doctor noticed me.

“Who’s this?”

“Elena,” Victor answered.

The doctor glanced between us.

“Your new nurse?”

Victor’s expression turned icy.

“She’s a housekeeper.”

Dr. Bennett raised an eyebrow.

“Then perhaps you should hire a nurse. You nearly bled out.”

I lowered my eyes, trying not to react.

For some reason, Victor noticed.

“Something amusing?”

“No, sir.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

“I’m not.”

Dr. Bennett actually laughed.

Victor didn’t.

After the doctor finished, he left strict instructions and disappeared down the hallway.

Victor motioned toward the chair beside the sofa.

“Sit.”

I remained standing.

“Sir?”

“Sit down, Elena.”

I obeyed cautiously.

He studied my hands.

They were red, cracked, and slightly swollen from hours of handling industrial cleaning products.

“Show me.”

I instinctively pulled them into my lap.

“They’re fine.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

Slowly, I extended both hands.

Victor examined them.

His expression became increasingly difficult to read.

“How long have they looked like this?”

“A while.”

“How long?”

“Since I started working here.”

He released my hands.

“Who gave you those chemicals without protective gloves?”

I didn’t answer.

Because the truth was embarrᴀssing.

The estate manager had refused to replace my damaged gloves, claiming they were still usable.

Victor looked toward the door.

“Paul will handle it.”

I quickly shook my head.

“Please don’t punish anyone because of me.”

His gaze returned to mine.

“You think I’m doing this because I care about your complaints?”

My face heated.

“No, sir.”

“Good.”

He paused.

“Because I don’t.”

I nodded, embarrᴀssed.

Then he continued.

“But nobody working under my roof will be forced to destroy their health over forty-two thousand dollars.”

My heart began pounding.

“Sir?”

Victor reached for the glᴀss of water on the table.

“Your brother’s debt is suspended.”

I stared at him.

“What?”

“Interest. Penalties. Additional charges. All suspended until further notice.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“But… I still have to pay?”

Victor looked at me.

“We’ll discuss that later.”

Tears suddenly burned behind my eyes.

I quickly lowered my head.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

His voice changed.

“Tell me something. When I was having that nightmare, what exactly did you do?”

I hesitated.

“I don’t know if I should say.”

“Say it.”

“You were saying no. You kept trying to move, and your wound started bleeding again. I thought you might hurt yourself.”

“And?”

“I held your chest to keep you from moving.”

Victor stared at me.

“Then you fell asleep?”

My cheeks turned bright red.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

For the first time, something almost resembling amusement crossed his face.

“Unfortunately?”

“I didn’t plan to use you as a pillow, sir.”

The silence lasted two seconds.

Then Victor laughed.

It was quiet, rough, and clearly unfamiliar.

I had heard rumors that Victor Hayes hadn’t laughed in years.

Apparently, nobody had told him that he was capable of it.

But his amusement disappeared when I mentioned something else.

“Although… you said something before you woke up.”

Victor became completely still.

“What did I say?”

I looked down at my hands.

“You kept repeating a name.”

His expression changed.

“What name?”

I hesitated.

“Isabella.”

The glᴀss in Victor’s hand stopped halfway to his mouth.

His eyes went cold.

“Who told you that name?”

“Nobody.”

“Then how do you know it?”

I looked at him helplessly.

“You said it yourself. Several times. You sounded terrified.”

Victor slowly placed the glᴀss down.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

Then he asked, almost too quietly:

“What else did I say?”

I tried to remember.

“You said, ‘Don’t take her away from me.'”

His jaw тιԍнтened.

“And?”

I swallowed.

“You said something about a little girl.”

Victor’s face lost what little color remained.

“What little girl?”

“I don’t know. You said, ‘Please, not my daughter.'”

The silence that followed was unlike anything I had experienced.

Victor Hayes wasn’t simply angry.

He looked as if I had opened a door he had spent years trying to keep locked.

At that exact moment, the study door opened.

Paul entered carrying a leather folder.

“Boss, there’s something you need to see.”

Victor didn’t look away from me.

“Not now.”

“It’s about the woman.”

My stomach тιԍнтened.

Paul placed the folder on the table.

“Her brother came to the estate yesterday. He was asking questions about your family.”

I turned sharply.

“Liam?”

Paul nodded.

“He claimed he had information worth discussing.”

Victor opened the folder.

Inside were several pH๏τographs.

The first showed my brother standing outside a nightclub.

The second showed him meeting a man in a black coat.

The third made my blood run cold.

It was an old pH๏τograph of a little girl standing beside a woman with dark hair.

I recognized the woman immediately.

My mother.

But the little girl…

I leaned forward.

My fingers began trembling.

“That’s impossible.”

Victor looked at me.

“You recognize her?”

I couldn’t breathe properly.

The little girl was wearing a silver necklace.

A tiny crescent moon with a small blue stone.

I had seen that necklace before.

It had belonged to me.

My mother told me I had worn it when I was a baby, but it disappeared after a car accident that supposedly killed my father and left me with no memories of my early childhood.

I stared at the pH๏τograph.

“Where did you get this?”

Victor’s expression hardened.

“Your brother brought it here.”

“Why?”

Paul answered before Victor could.

“Because he believes your mother wasn’t the woman who raised you.”

My head snapped toward him.

“That’s ridiculous.”

Victor slowly closed the folder.

“Paul. Leave us.”

This time, Paul didn’t argue.

The door locked behind him.

I turned toward Victor.

“What’s happening?”

He stared at the pH๏τograph for a long moment.

Then he looked at me.

“Isabella Hayes was my wife.”

My stomach dropped.

“Was?”

“She died twelve years ago.”

He paused.

“Along with our daughter.”

My fingers went numb.

Victor pushed the pH๏τograph toward me.

“Her name was Sophia.”

I looked at the little girl again.

The crescent necklace.

The familiar eyes.

The same tiny birthmark beneath her left ear that I had seen in my childhood pH๏τographs.

I shook my head.

“No…”

Victor’s voice became dangerously quiet.

“Your mother worked for my family before she disappeared. And according to the records, she was the last person who saw my wife and daughter alive.”

I couldn’t speak.

Then I noticed something written on the back of the pH๏τograph.

Three words in faded blue ink.

Elena is alive.

My heart stopped.

I looked up at Victor.

He was already staring at me.

For the first time since I had met him, the most feared man in the city looked genuinely afraid.

“Elena,” he whispered.

“There’s something you need to understand.”

He reached into the folder and removed another pH๏τograph.

This one showed a woman standing outside a hospital, holding a newborn baby.

The woman was my mother.

And the baby had a small crescent-shaped birthmark on her shoulder.

The same birthmark I had carried my entire life.

Victor’s voice broke slightly.

“Your mother didn’t just work for my family.”

He paused, struggling to control his expression.

“She was supposed to bring my daughter home.”

I stared at him, unable to process the words.

Then he said the sentence that shattered everything I thought I knew.

“Elena, I think you’ve spent twenty-three years believing you were someone else’s daughter.”

He leaned forward.

“And I think your brother has known the truth all along.”

But before I could ask another question, my phone began ringing.

Liam’s name appeared on the screen.

I answered with shaking fingers.

“Where are you?”

His voice came through in a frantic whisper.

“Elena, listen to me. You need to get away from that house.”

“Why?”

“Because Victor knows about the little girl, doesn’t he?”

I looked at Victor.

He was watching me without blinking.

Then Liam said something that made my blood turn to ice.

“He’s not the only one looking for you. The men who ordered Mom’s death just found out you’re still alive.”

A loud crash sounded somewhere outside the study.

Victor immediately reached for his gun.

Then the lights went out.

And from the other side of the locked mahogany door, a man shouted:

“Victor Hayes! Hand over the girl. We know who she really is!”