Chapter 7 - The Shadows of RevengeSix months passed. The transition was seamless. Clara moved into the beautiful, sunlit cottage on the north side of the estate. For the first time in her life, she didn't wake up sweating about rent or whether the grocery store card would decline. Nora was thriving at Hawthorne Academy, her bright laughter filling the estate gardens on weekends.
Clara took to her new role with natural grace. She no longer wore the maid's uniform; instead, she wore elegant, tailored slacks and silk blouses. But she never forgot where she came from. She treated every member of the cleaning and kitchen staff with the utmost respect, paying them bonuses out of the estate budget that Damian gladly approved without looking.
However, peace in the world of the ultra-wealthy is always fragile.
Priscilla Kingsley had not forgotten her humiliation. Her family’s company had taken a massive financial hit after Damian pulled out of the merger. She had become a pariah in high society, dropped by her friends and ignored by luxury brands. In her mind, the blame lay entirely on one person: the maid who didn't know her place.
One evening, while Damian was away in New York for an international banking summit, Clara was finalizing the inventory logs in the main office. The house was quiet, the staff having gone to their quarters for the night.
Suddenly, the estate’s perimeter alarm blared, a piercing shriek that shattered the silence of Hawthorne Hill.
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Clara’s heart leaped into her throat. She ran to the security monitors. The camera at the eastern gate showed a sleek black SUV ramming into the iron decorative gates. A group of three men in dark clothing stepped out, but it wasn't a standard robbery. Behind them walked a woman in a heavy trench coat, her blond hair disheveled, her eyes wild under the security lights.
It was Priscilla. And she was holding a heavy container of gasoline.
