Chapter 1 - The Maid Who Was Supposed to Be Invisible Walked Into His Shower, Saved His Life, and Accidentally Exposed the Secret She Had Been Hiding for Three Months“Don’t.”
Damian’s hand stopped inches from the bathroom door.
Martha still had his wrist.
The white vapor creeping beneath the door was thin at first.
Almost delicate.
Then she smelled it.
Bitter.
Chemical.
Her instincts screamed.
“It’s gas,” she whispered.
Damian’s eyes sharpened.
He immediately moved away from the door.
Victor shouted from the hallway.
“Damian?”
“Back away!”
There was a brief silence.
Then someone outside coughed.
Another man yelled.
“Move!”
Damian looked at Martha.
“You knew.”
“I smelled it.”
“How?”
She ignored the question.
“We need another exit.”
His gaze moved around the bathroom.
There was one window.
Too narrow to fit through.
One door.
Compromised.
And a ventilation grille above the shower.
Damian looked up.
Martha followed his eyes.
“That leads somewhere?”
“To the service passage.”
“Can we open it?”
“Yes.”
“Then do it.”
Damian grabbed a chair.
He smashed it against the grille.
Once.
Twice.
The metal bent.
On the third strike, the frame tore loose.
Cold air rushed inside.
Damian pushed himself upward.
Martha climbed after him.
They crawled into the narrow ventilation passage.
Behind them, the bathroom door finally opened.
Gas flooded the room.
Victor shouted from outside.
“Damian!”
No answer.
Martha and Damian crawled through darkness.
The passage was barely wide enough for Damian's shoulders.
Martha heard him breathing behind her.
Fast.
Controlled.
“Keep moving,” he said.
“I am.”
“You're slowing down.”
“You're too large for this.”
He almost laughed.
“That's the first insult anyone has given me tonight.”
“It isn't an insult.”
“Sounds like one.”
“Keep moving.”
They reached the service corridor.
Damian kicked the access panel open.
They emerged into an empty linen room.
Martha slid down the wall.
Damian stood over her.
“You knew about the gas before anyone else.”
“I smelled it.”
“You weren't trained to smell poison.”
“No.”
“Then how?”
She looked at him.
“Because my brother used to work around chemicals.”
Damian's expression changed.
Andrew.
Everything returned.
The memory card.
The message.
The silver lighter.
The warning about Victor.
The words:
Someone inside the house has to finish the job.
Damian looked toward the corridor.
“Victor.”
Martha shook her head.
“You think he's the one?”
“I think he's compromised.”
“That's different.”
Damian nodded.
“You're right.”
Footsteps approached.
Martha tensed.
Damian drew his gun.
A familiar voice called:
“Boss?”
Victor.
Damian did not answer.
Victor appeared at the end of the corridor.
His men spread out behind him.
He looked relieved.
“There you are.”
Damian watched him.
“How many people were exposed?”
“Three.”
“And you?”
“Fine.”
Damian studied his face.
Victor's breathing was too steady.
His pupils weren't dilated.
No coughing.
No watery eyes.
He had not been near the gas.
Damian looked at Martha.
She noticed it too.
Victor smiled.
“Are you all right, boss?”
“Yes.”
“Then we need to get you downstairs.”
“Why?”
“Because the whole house is compromised.”
Damian's eyes narrowed.
“Who told you?”
Victor hesitated.
“Security command.”
“There is no security command.”
Silence.
Damian raised his gun.
Victor immediately reached for his.
The hallway exploded into violence.
Two shots.
Then six.
Martha dropped behind the linen cart.
Damian fired.
One security man went down.
Another ducked behind the doorway.
Victor disappeared around the corner.
“Stay here!” Damian shouted.
Martha crouched.
“That's what you say to everyone?”
He fired again.
“No.”
“Then why me?”
“Because I don't know what you are.”
She looked at him.
The admission hurt more than she expected.
Damian's eyes returned to hers.
“But I know what you aren't.”
“What?”
“A coward.”
Then he vanished after Victor.
Martha stayed down.
She should have run.
The side exit was twenty feet away.
The security alarms were blaring.
The mansion was chaos.
She could disappear.
No one would know she had planned to leave anyway.
She had come here under a false identity.
She had spent nine days becoming invisible.
She had spent three months investigating Andrew's death.
And now she had Damian's trust for approximately seven seconds.
Leaving was the smart choice.
Then she heard a familiar sound.
A motorcycle engine.
Martha went still.
There were no motorcycles allowed inside the estate grounds after midnight.
That sound had been in the background of her brother's final voicemail.
She ran toward the rear corridor.
She found an exterior service door open.
A black motorcycle sat beyond it.
The rider looked toward the mansion.
He wore a black helmet.
Martha recognized the jacket.
Her brother had described it.
A thin red stripe down the sleeve.
She ran outside.
The rider saw her.
Started the engine.
Martha grabbed the nearest object.
A metal flowerpot.
She threw it.
It struck the rear wheel.
The motorcycle swerved.
The rider crashed.
Martha sprinted toward him.
He rolled and reached for his gun.
She kicked it away.
He looked up.
For one second, she saw his face.
Older.
Scar over the eyebrow.
And absolutely terrified.
Not of her.
Of someone behind her.
Martha turned.
Damian stood in the doorway.
Gun raised.
The rider laughed.
“Too late.”
Damian fired.
The man collapsed.
Martha stared.
“You shot him.”
“He was reaching for a weapon.”
“He knew my brother.”
Damian lowered his gun.
“Did you recognize him?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I don't know his name.”
“But?”
“He was at my brother's funeral.”
Damian went still.
“What?”
Martha pointed.
“I remember his face.”
Damian approached the body.
He searched the man's jacket.
A folded photograph fell out.
Damian picked it up.
His face changed.
Martha stepped closer.
The photograph showed Andrew.
Standing beside Damian.
And beside them was Victor.
Three men.
Three years earlier.
Martha whispered:
“They knew each other.”
Damian stared at the photograph.
“Your brother came to me twelve months before he died.”
“You said three days.”
“I lied.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn't know whether you were part of this.”
She looked at him.
“You thought I was?”
“I wasn't sure.”
“I came here because I thought you killed him.”
Damian nodded.
“I know.”
“And now?”
He looked at the dead man.
“Now I think the person who killed Andrew wanted both of us to believe I did.”
Martha's chest tightened.
The mansion behind them went dark.
Every light.
Every camera.
Every alarm.
The entire estate.
Damian's phone rang.
He answered.
No one spoke.
Then a voice whispered:
“Look beneath Andrew's grave.”
The call ended.
Martha stared at Damian.
“My brother's grave?”
May you like
Damian nodded.
“We're going.”
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