Chapter 3
The clatter of crystal glasses and the low hum of affluent conversations provided a rhythmic backdrop to the Christmas Eve festivities. Megan pushed through the silk drapes, stepping back into the bright, airy light of the grand salon. The golden reflections offered absolutely no place to hide her disheveled appearance. She kept her head down, navigating the carved walnut furniture and burgundy velvet sofas with agonizing care, desperately searching for the woman in the deep-plum gown.
She found Vanessa standing near the towering Christmas tree, temporarily alone as the donors migrated toward the bar.
Megan approached her, her hands trembling violently. She pulled the thick envelope from her apron pocket, the red ribbon stark against the white paper.
"Miss Cross, please," Megan begged, her voice barely above a whisper. "I am begging you. I have the money. I just need your permission to walk out the service gates. If I don't leave now, my daughter will die."
Vanessa turned slowly, her emerald earrings flashing under the crystal chandeliers. She looked the desperate maid up and down, her polished public smile remaining fixed on her face, though her eyes burned with a malicious, lethal superiority.
"I told you no, Megan," Vanessa stated, her American accent dripping with condescending cruelty. "Your shift ends at midnight. Not a second before."
"I will work for free for the next year," Megan pleaded, tears finally spilling over her rosy cheeks. "I will do anything you ask. Please. It's her heart. They are waiting for me right now."
Vanessa’s eyes flicked down to the thick envelope in Megan's hands. A twisted, sadistic thought bloomed in the socialite's mind. She resented the quiet affection Damon had always shown the staff, and she despised the way Mila clung to this pathetic woman.
"Let me see that," Vanessa commanded quietly, reaching out with a manicured hand.
Megan hesitated, her maternal instinct screaming at her to run. But the armed guards at the doors meant she could not leave without Vanessa's authorization. With a trembling hand, Megan offered the ribbon-tied envelope forward.
Vanessa snatched it from her grasp. She weighed the heavy envelope in her hand, feeling the thick stack of bills inside.
"You accumulated all of this on a maid's salary?" Vanessa mused, her smile widening into a mask of pure malice. "I find that highly unlikely. In fact, I suspect you have been stealing from the Sterling estate."
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"No! I swear to you, I saved every penny!" Megan gasped, panic seizing her throat. "Please, give it back!"
"I think not," Vanessa whispered, turning her back on the maid and walking deliberately toward the carved marble fireplace. "Thieves do not get rewarded on Christmas."
