THE MAID SMASHED THE BILLIONAIRE’S BRIDE INTO HER OWN WEDDING CAKE, BUT HER TERRIFIED SCREAM EXPOSED THE MURDER SHE HAD PLANNED

“Mr. Mercer, you need to sit down,” Evelyn urged, reaching out to support his elbow. His skin was unnervingly cold through the fabric of his sweater.

Grant waved her off gently, though he stumbled slightly as he moved toward a leather armchair. “I’m fine, Evelyn. Really. Dr. Sterling adjusted my blood pressure medication this morning. He said it might take a few days for my body to acclimate.”

Evelyn froze. “Dr. Sterling was here?”

“Yes, he made a house call. Sloane insisted. She’s been so worried about my stress levels.” Grant managed a weak, appreciative smile. “She’s taking such good care of me.”

Nausea churned in Evelyn’s stomach. She looked at the silver pillbox still gripped in her left hand, then up at Grant’s trusting, exhausted face. The man was being murdered in plain sight, thanking his executioners for the poison.

“Mr. Mercer,” Evelyn started, her voice shaking. She had to tell him. She had the photos. She had the pillbox. “There is something you need to know about Sloane. About Dr. Sterling. I overheard—”

“Darling, there you are!”

The bright, melodic voice sliced through the heavy library air like a razor.

Sloane glided into the room, wearing a flawless cream-colored silk dress. Her blonde hair fell in perfect waves over her shoulders. She carried a silver tray with a crystal glass of water and two small, white capsules.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Sloane said, her eyes brimming with manufactured concern as she knelt beside Grant’s chair. She didn’t even glance at Evelyn. “Dr. Sterling said you need to take these at exactly noon. You’re late.”

Grant sighed heavily. “Sloane, I don’t like how these make me feel. My chest feels tight.”

“That means they’re working, sweetheart,” Sloane cooed, stroking his cheek with her manicured hand. “You want to be healthy for our honeymoon, don’t you? Please, for me.”

Evelyn watched, paralyzed by horror, as Grant took the pills and swallowed them with the water.

Only then did Sloane turn her head. Her piercing blue eyes locked onto Evelyn. The warmth in her expression vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, reptilian calculation. Her gaze dropped to Evelyn’s left hand.

To the silver pillbox belonging to Grant’s murdered father.

Sloane didn’t gasp. She didn’t panic. The corners of her mouth simply tightened into a micro-smile that sent a shiver down Evelyn’s spine.

“Evelyn,” Sloane said, her voice smooth and sweet. “Could you give us a moment? Grant needs to rest.”

“Of course,” Evelyn said, her voice barely a whisper. She shoved the pillbox into her apron pocket and hurried out of the library, her heart hammering against her ribs.

She needed to call Detective Vega. The timeline had accelerated. Grant might not even make it to the wedding.

Evelyn hurried down the servants’ corridor, pushing through the swinging doors into the laundry room. She pulled out her phone and dialed Vega’s direct line.

It rang twice before a shadow fell over her.

Evelyn turned. Sloane stood in the doorway, the heavy laundry room door swinging shut behind her, clicking into place.

Sloane wasn’t smiling anymore. She looked like a predator that had finally cornered a mouse.

“Hang up the phone,” Sloane commanded quietly.

Evelyn backed away until her hips hit the washing machines. She pressed ‘End Call’. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ms. Halbrook.”

“Oh, spare me the terrified maid routine,” Sloane snapped, dropping the sweet fiancé persona entirely. She took a step forward, her high heels clicking sharply on the linoleum floor. “I saw you holding Arthur’s pillbox. I saw the way you looked at Grant just now. You’re a very quiet girl, Evelyn. Too quiet. Which means you hear things you shouldn’t.”

Evelyn lifted her chin, finding a sudden, desperate bravery. “I know what you and Dr. Sterling are doing. I know about Grant’s father. I’ve already gone to the police.”

Sloane stopped. For a second, a flicker of genuine surprise crossed her flawless face. Then, she threw her head back and laughed. It was a dark, hollow sound.

“The police?” Sloane mocked. “And what did they say, Evelyn? Let me guess. They told you to come back when you have actual proof. Because no detective in this city is going to arrest the future Mrs. Grant Mercer based on the delusions of the hired help.”

Sloane reached into the pocket of her silk dress. She pulled out a small, worn velvet box and tossed it onto the folding table between them.

Evelyn’s breath caught. She recognized that box instantly.

She reached out with trembling fingers and opened it. Inside lay a delicate, antique silver rosary with deep blue glass beads. It was her mother’s rosary. The only valuable thing their family owned. Evelyn kept it in her locker in the staff changing room, a comfort for when she felt overwhelmed.

“Beautiful piece,” Sloane murmured, leaning forward. “It’s a shame it was found in my jewelry case upstairs, right next to my missing diamond tennis bracelet. Which, conveniently, was found tucked into the lining of your winter coat.”

Evelyn looked up, absolute terror gripping her chest. “You planted it.”

“I secured my position,” Sloane corrected coldly. “If you breathe a word of your little conspiracy theories to Grant, or to the police, I will call security. I will have you arrested for grand larceny. You’ll go to prison. And your little brother—what’s his name? Mason?—the nursing student. How do you think the medical board will react when they find out his tuition was paid with stolen Mercer money? His career will be over before it begins.”

Evelyn felt the air leave her lungs. Sloane hadn’t just threatened her. She had trapped her entirely, wrapping chains around Evelyn’s family.

“You’re a monster,” Evelyn whispered, tears of helpless rage burning her eyes.

“I’m a survivor,” Sloane corrected softly, stepping into Evelyn’s personal space. “I grew up with nothing, just like you. But unlike you, I refused to stay at the bottom. Now, here are your new instructions. You will finish your shift. You will serve at my wedding. And the day after I become a widow, you will quietly resign. If you do that, your brother gets to be a nurse.”