Chapter2

After that day, the atmosphere in the estate changed completely.

Using "excellent massage results" as an excuse, Nate drastically reduced Oksana's workload, yet her salary tripled. He even moved Oksana's sixteen-year-old sister, Mila—who dressed like a rebellious juvenile delinquent—into the estate, sending a Rolls-Royce to drop her off at a private high school every day. When I asked him why he cared so much about that girl, he only said Oksana had a hard life.

"We're going to have a child of our own soon anyway, just treat it as practicing how to take care of someone in advance."

He used the word "we." In that moment, I even felt ashamed of my own uneasiness.

But Oksana's attitude became increasingly perfunctory. Her massages shrank from an hour to twenty minutes, and her techniques grew more and more careless, until eventually, she would just toss a heating pad onto my legs and walk away. She began taking frequent time off, and every time she returned, she wore new clothes with the price tags still attached—clothes three times more expensive than the casual wear I had bought for her. The estate's procurement accounts grew increasingly chaotic, with grocery expenses rising month by month, all bearing her signature.

That was until the day I pushed open the door to her room. She stood in front of the mirror with her back to me, wearing the deep champagne silk nightgown my mother had left behind, the collar embroidered with my mother's initials. She turned slightly, admiring her protruding belly in the mirror, while three or four new, untagged garments piled up on the chair beside her.

I turned around and headed to the living room to grab the phone and call the police. Nate emerged from the study and blocked my way.

"Is it really worth calling the police over a piece of clothing? She is a pregnant woman who needs bed rest."

Oksana had already changed back into her gray loungewear, standing at the other end of the hallway with her head bowed.

"I am a pregnant woman too!"

The hand gripping my phone trembled.

The immense pressure of the past few days exploded in my chest. Tears welled up, and just as Nate was about to step forward, a muffled groan came from behind—Oksana clutched her stomach, collapsing softly against the Roman pillar as if all the bones had been sucked out of her body. Nate's footsteps immediately changed direction. With red eyes, he rushed over, scooped up her bloated body in his arms, and dashed out the front door.

I stood frozen in place, tears still clinging to my eyelashes.

Mila approached, chewing gum, and tilted her head to look at me.

"If you keep screaming, I'll have my brother-in-law kick you out, you damn peacock."

That night, I sat in the living room, facing the shattered pieces of the kicked-over coffee table.

"I want to fire Oksana. Today, right now. I absolutely must."

Nate stood at the doorway, his overcoat still reeking of disinfectant. He looked at me for a long time.

"Is it really necessary?"

In the end, he couldn't talk me out of it. On the day of their eviction, Mila sat on the carpet and bawled her eyes out. Oksana, with tears streaming down her face, slapped her.

"How dare you make the missus angry!"

I watched coldly, my heart completely devoid of any ripples of emotion.

Then, Mila raised her head, clutching her face, her venomous gaze pinned on me. She spoke, her voice not loud, but the entire estate went completely silent.

"The baby in my sister's belly is also Vance's seed! It's also an heir to this family! Why should we be the ones to leave? Why don't you make that useless woman get the hell out!"

I turned my head stiffly. Nate hung his head, staring dead at the tips of his shoes without saying a single word.

The executioner's blade finally fell. The one who destroyed my life wasn't some young, beautiful socialite. It just had to be her. Bloated, with calloused hands and broken English—the Eastern European physical therapist I had personally picked up from the domestic helper market, the one I had found squatting on a street corner gnawing on dry bread.

Under the sheer, profound shock, my water broke right then and there. As I was lifted into the ambulance, I gripped his hand with a deathly tight grip.