Two Little Secrets From My Boss

Chapter 112

Maya’s POV

The offer comes over coffee in the Hale family kitchen, sunlight streaming through windows that cost more than Lora earned in a year.

"Maya, I want to be direct with you." Daphne sets down her cup, her eyes warm with the kind of hope that makes my stomach turn.

"We've interviewed a lot of candidates over the past week. None of them felt right. But you—from the moment you walked in, something was different."

"I appreciate you saying that." I keep my voice soft, humble. "Your family seems wonderful. Nina is a force of nature, and Lisa... she reminds me of myself at that age. Watchful. Careful about who she lets in."

Daphne's face lights up. "That's exactly it. You understand them already. Most people see Lisa's quietness as shyness, but it's not, is it? She's observing, cataloguing, making sure it's safe before she commits."

"Smart girl." I wrap my hands around my coffee cup, letting the warmth seep into my fingers.

"The world can be overwhelming when you feel everything as deeply as children like her do. She needs someone who won't rush her, won't force connections before she's ready."

"Yes." Daphne breathes the word like a prayer answered. "Yes, that's exactly what she needs. Maya, I'd like to offer you the position. Full benefits, of course.”

She continued in excitement, and I was surprised to note how infectious her light was.

“The salary is generous—I can have the specifics sent to you this afternoon if you'd like to review them before committing. And there's a room in the guest wing if you ever need to stay late. The hours can be unpredictable, and I don't want you driving across the city exhausted."

A room in the guest wing. Inside the house. Inside the fortress.

I let my eyes soften and my smile reach just the right depth of genuine pleasure. "Daphne, I don't know what to say. This is... thank you. Thank you for trusting me with something so precious."

"You earned that trust. I've learned to read people over the years. It's a skill you develop when you're protecting children."

She reaches across the table, squeezes my hand briefly.

"And everything about you tells me you're exactly who you present yourself to be—someone who genuinely cares, who will put Nina and Lisa first."

The words taste like ash on my tongue. I swallow them down.

"I won't let you down," I say. "I promise you that."

"I believe you." She stands, and I see it—the weight visibly lifting from her shoulders, the tension in her jaw finally easing.

"Can you start Monday? I know it's soon, but with everything going on, the sooner we have you here, the better I'll feel."

"Monday works perfectly. I can rearrange my schedule, make sure I'm fully available." I stand as well, smoothing my skirt, maintaining the mask.

"Is there anything specific you'd like me to prepare? Educational activities, meal plans, daily routines?"

"We can go over all of that when you arrive. For now, just know that Nina is excited—she's been asking when 'the berry juice lady' is coming back."

Daphne laughs, a genuine sound that echoes through the pristine kitchen.

"And Lisa... well, Lisa hasn't retreated to her room when we mention you. For her, that's practically a standing ovation."

"I'm honored." The lie slides out smooth as silk. "Truly, Daphne. I know how hard it must have been to find someone you felt comfortable with. I won't take that trust for granted."

She walks me to the door, her steps lighter than they were an hour ago. The hallway stretches before us—marble floors, tasteful art, the quiet evidence of wealth accumulated over generations.

I catalogue everything—the security panel by the entrance, the camera angles, the layout of the rooms we pass.

"My husband will want to meet you properly before you start," Daphne says as we reach the foyer.

"He's been traveling this week, but he'll be back Sunday evening. I hope that's alright—he's not as intimidating as people think, I promise."

‘Husband.’ The word curl through me like smoke.

"Of course. I look forward to it." I extend my hand, shake hers with just the right pressure. "Thank you again, Daphne. For this opportunity, for believing in me. I have a good feeling about this too."

"So do I." She opens the door, afternoon light spilling across the threshold. "Monday at eight? I'll have everything ready for you."

"I'll be here."

The door closes behind me.

I walk down the pristine driveway, past the manicured hedges and the security cameras I've already catalogued, toward my car parked at the curb.

My heels click against the pavement in a steady rhythm. My posture remains perfect. My face remains pleasant.

Anyone watching would see a woman who just landed her dream job walking to her car with quiet satisfaction.

The moment I slide into the driver's seat, the mask falls.

My fingers grip the steering wheel until my knuckles go white, my breath comes sharp and shallow, ragged gasps that fog the windshield.

In the rearview mirror, my reflection stares back—not the pleasant, capable woman who just accepted a job, but someone carved hollow by grief and sharpened into a weapon by five years of singular purpose.

Five years of planning. Five years of becoming someone I barely recognize. Five years of waking up every morning with Lora's face behind my eyelids and her voice echoing in my skull.

‘I've got you. You're not alone. You'll never be alone.’

But I've been alone since the day they lowered her into the ground.

I think of Lora at that kitchen table, surrounded by bills, fighting sleep so she could give me a future. I think of her hands, cracked from dishwater and bleach.

I think of her dreams, folded up and tucked away in a drawer she never opened because there wasn't time, there was never time, there was only me and the next bill and the next shift.

I think of the closed casket, the rain-soaked cemetery, the silence where her voice should be.

‘She trusted you,’ I tell myself. ‘Daphne Hale trusted you with her children, and you smiled and thanked her and lied to her face.’

Good. That's the point. That's always been the point.

The Hale mansion looms in my rearview mirror. Beautiful, pristine and unsuspecting. The family inside thinks they're safe now.

They think they've found someone trustworthy, someone kind, someone who will protect what matters most to them.

They have no idea what they've let through their door.