The Billionaire Wife They Mistook for a Maid

1: 1

The day I found out I was pregnant, I found a delivery bag of birth-control pills at my own front door.

There was a pair of strange red stilettos sitting in the entryway too.

I frowned and reached for my phone to call the police.

That was when a cup of hot coffee hit me full in the face.

You really are poor and light-fingered! Are your eyes on your ass? You've got the nerve to steal from my house!

A young woman wrapped in a bath towel, wearing my custom cashmere house slippers.

She snatched the keys to my Rolls-Royce right out of my hand.

Then she pointed at me and screamed, insufferably smug.

"My husband runs Dragonet Law Firm. You just wait for your lawsuit!"

I wiped the sticky mess off my face and laughed coldly inside.

What a coincidence.

Dragonet Law Firm has exactly two people at its head.

One of them is my son.

The other is my husband.

...

I called my son straight away.

"Come to the Cloudmere Estate right now!"

Brandon's voice on the other end was thick with impatience.

"Mom, if you've got nothing better to do, go wander the farmers' market. I'm swamped at the office, I don't have time for your nonsense!"

My fingers went white around the phone.

I thought of the test report tucked away in my bag, the one that said my son had acute leukemia.

I had finally carried this pregnancy, at my age, and now there would be cord blood.

Soon I could take him to the hospital for the stem cell transplant.

I couldn't let him get upset.

I drew in a deep breath, swallowed the anger rising in my throat, and softened my voice.

"Mom really does have something..."

Before I could finish.

The line clicked over into a busy tone.

He'd hung up.

I stood there stunned for a moment.

Linda Simmons, still in the bath towel, was holding the limited-edition bone china cup I'd brought back from overseas.

Arms crossed, her whole face full of contempt and swagger.

"Old and shameless, both. Caught red-handed as a thief and still got the gall to call for backup."

"Does your son know his mother's a filthy little sneak-thief?"

Fury churned in me, but I couldn't be bothered to argue with her anymore.

I decided to just go inside and get the purchase papers.

Linda stepped forward and threw her arm across the doorframe, blocking me.

Spit flew from her mouth as she screeched into my face.

"Somebody help! This old woman's picking on me, a young girl home alone. She stole from us and now she's trying to break in and rob the place!"

Her voice was sharp and shrill, and the neighbors started crowding in.

I nearly laughed from sheer anger.

"You're the one who grabbed my car keys out of my hand, and now I'm the thief?"

Linda rolled her eyes at me, her face twisted with disgust.

She waved the keys in front of everyone, her blood-red nail jabbing at my face.

"Lady, have some shame! There's my husband's firm logo right there on the key fob!"

I started to explain: "My husband gave those to me!"

Half a sentence out, and Linda cut me off.

She deliberately raised her voice, twisting every word toward something ugly.

"Oh please, a wrinkled old woman, still shameless enough to come to our neighborhood hunting rich old men!"

"Which soft-hearted old man got his hands on that saggy body of yours and bought you a luxury car?"

That set the crowd off instantly.

I'd only come to this house once since buying it, and none of the neighbors recognized me.

They took her side from the start, pulling Linda behind them and glaring at me sideways.

"Stealing, sneaking around, chasing after men. At her age, and no shame at all!"

"If you ask me, this old bag's just too old to seduce men anymore, so now she's reduced to breaking in and stealing!"

Someone even raised a phone and kept filming right in my face.

"Post it online and expose her! Let everyone see this old lowlife!"

The filth kept coming, one line after another, and my anger blazed.

"Watch your mouths! I'm not a thief. I'm coming home to my own house!"

Linda burst out laughing on the spot.

She threw a spiteful glance at the sportswear I had on.

"Your house?"

"You haven't even looked at yourself in a puddle of your own piss, and you think you deserve to live here?"

"The Cloudmere Estate is top-tier luxury!"

"A dried-up old woman like you could drop her pants and sell herself till the day she died and still not afford a single toilet in this place!"

For the life of me, I couldn't understand it.

How had my son ended up with a girlfriend who spewed filth like this.

I was ready to explode.

My instinct was to call the police right then.

But then I pictured Brandon's face, more haggard by the day.

I couldn't bear to make him drag his sick body down to the station to sort out a fight between his own mother and his girlfriend.

I forced the urge back down.

I swept a cold look over Linda.

"Young lady, you haven't actually married into the Gilbert family yet. Take my advice and leave yourself some room. You'll regret it otherwise."

With that, I walked straight to the black bronze door.

I pressed my thumb to the fingerprint reader.

And with everyone watching, I said in a low, steady voice.

"Take a good look. Is this my house or not!"

2: 2

"Beep fingerprint verification failed!"

The mechanical prompt went off right in my ear.

My whole mind went blank.

Someone had changed the door-lock permissions and deleted my fingerprint.

Linda Simmons was shaking with laughter, like a gamecock that had won outright.

"Can't even open the fingerprint lock, and you still dare say you own the place!"

"I think you've gone crazy from being poor!"

The neighbors watching burst into snickers, and the looks they gave me turned even more mocking and contemptuous.

"This old woman's got a hide thicker than a city wall. A minute ago she was actually putting on airs like she had every right."

They hadn't even finished their jeers.

I had already swiped open the sensor pad on the lock and briskly keyed in the entry code.

"Beep verification passed! Welcome home!"

The moment the electronic voice sounded again.

The smile on Linda's face froze instantly.

The murmuring around us cut off all at once.

I stepped inside quickly and pulled open the bottom drawer of the console.

I dug out the government-issued ID with my own photo on it and slapped it down on the table.

"Take a good look. If this weren't my home, why would my ID be inside it?"

For the first time, that righteous crowd of neighbors hesitated.

Someone in the crowd muttered under their breath.

"Huh, it really is her."

"This place isn't actually hers, is it..."

Linda's face went white for an instant, then flushed red a moment later.

She threw back her voice, planted her hands on her hips, and pointed at me, cursing viciously.

"I get it now! You're that nanny who kept sending my husband flirty texts and got fired by him!"

"Take a look at your own wrinkled face and that old-lady smell all over you!"

"You threw yourself at him and no man would even take you, and now you've got the nerve to come back and cling on!"

The neighbors who had just wavered were pulled right back to her side.

"I've heard of young nannies climbing into bed, but I never thought an old one would be so shameless too."

"Old as she is and still wants to play the seductress. I've never seen anyone this shameless..."

Those words came flying like stones.

Each one heavier than the last.

Each one filthier than the last.

Something in my chest went cold, and a rage of unbearable humiliation surged straight up to my throat.

"I'll say it one more time. This is my house!"

"The owner is my child's father, and I'm calling him right now!"

Just as I reached for my phone, Linda suddenly snatched the clear document envelope from my hand, the one I'd just picked up at the hospital.

"A prenatal report?"

She pinched her voice thin, as if she were holding something filthy, her tone exaggerated.

"Oh my god! A bag of old bones and still this desperate?"

"Which wild man did you get this dirty little bastard from, coming to our house to shake us down for money?"

"Auntie, did you pay that wild man his emotional-damages compensation yet?"

Filth pouring out, no bottom line at all.

The watching neighbors erupted at once.

"Oh my god, this really opens my eyes! Old as she is and she's running a pregnancy scam!"

"The owner of Building 8 has such rotten luck."

Bucket after bucket of filth was hurled at me without mercy.

I cradled my belly, so sick with disgust that even my fingertips wouldn't stop shaking.

I truly couldn't stand it anymore, so I just pulled out my phone to call the police.

Linda was quick.

She rushed over and knocked the phone out of my hand.

The phone crashed to the floor, the screen shattering into pieces in an instant.

"You mistress no, you old third wheel trying to worm your way up and you still dare call the cops and play the victim?"

Mocking me for all she was worth, she reached out to yank up my shirt, wearing the confident air of someone who had seen through the whole scheme.

"Come on, come on, let me see how many months along that old body of yours is, whether the pillow you stuffed in there is big enough!"

My pupils shrank and I hunched over in a panic to shield my belly, dodging desperately.

"Don't touch my stomach!"

But Linda seized on the moment to grab a fistful of my hair and wrench it hard backward.

"Faking it! Keep faking it! Look at you, practically menopausal, and you've got the nerve to fake a pregnancy? Who do you think you're fooling!"

The neighbors around us chimed in one after another.

"Damn, is she faking a pregnancy to milk sympathy?"

"This old mistress is way too brazen. Can't she see the lady of the house is young and beautiful?"

"She's old enough to be his mother, pulling dirty tricks here, absolutely revolting!"

The cold malice wove into an airtight net and trapped me fast.

I was so furious my belly ached, and even my vision started going dark in waves.

At that moment, a security guard's voice came from outside.

"What's all this crowding and commotion? The owner's here!"

A lean, upright figure came striding in quickly behind the guard.

It was my son, Brandon Gilbert!

3: 3

Every taut nerve in me went slack in an instant.

I gripped the cabinet beside me and forced myself upright.

The second Linda saw Brandon, her eyes lit up.

She scampered over in my slippers, mouth twisted into a pout, whining.

"Brandon, you're finally here! Any later and this thieving old maid would've bullied me to death!"

Brandon swept a glance over the wreckage across the floor.

He didn't so much as look my way.

He soothed Linda in a gentle voice.

"Don't be afraid. I'm here."

Then he turned to the security guards, his voice cold.

"Clear out everyone who doesn't belong here. Anyone causing trouble, call the police and have them taken away."

A few guards began coaxing the neighbors to go back to their own homes.

Two of them seized my arms, one on each side, and started dragging me toward the door.

Fury detonated in my chest.

"Brandon! You let them lay a hand on me and see what happens!"

Brandon heard that voice, one he knew better than any other.

His whole body stiffened. He turned, saw it was me, and his face went blank with disbelief.

Only then did he register that the person the guards had pinned, clothes in disarray, coffee stains still clinging to her, was his own mother.

"Why is it you?"

I wrenched free of the guards, spacing out each word.

"In front of everyone here, say clearly who I am!"

Linda pinched him hard.

"Go on, say it. Isn't this old woman the maid who used to work here?"

Brandon closed his eyes.

Through clenched teeth he forced out the words that cut straight through me.

"She's the maid."

A roar went through my skull and everything went blank, all the blood in me freezing at once.

I carried him ten months, gave birth to him, raised him through more than twenty years of hardship.

And in the end my own son called me the family maid?

Linda, thoroughly pleased with herself, threw out a scornful line from on high.

"Shameless old thing, had enough of your little performance yet?"

"You're a servant, born to wait on people. You actually thought your old employer would step in and prop up a washed-up hag like you?"

I clenched my fists.

Without a word, I turned and went upstairs to dig out the household registration papers.

Brandon rushed over and pulled me into a corner.

He begged me in a low voice only the two of us could hear.

"Mom, stop making a scene. Can't you leave me a little face in front of everyone?"

"Just admit it for now, and I'll find a chance to explain later, all right?"

I truly couldn't understand it.

Why my son had become the kind of spineless coward who wouldn't even claim his own mother in front of his girlfriend.

But I looked at his pale face and the faint purple in his lips.

The words I wanted to hurl at him jammed in my throat.

Linda, though, had no intention of letting me off.

She went over to the little side room.

Grabbed a bed sheet at random, bundled my things into it any which way, and threw the whole thing out the door, everything crashing to the floor.

On top was my mother's memorial portrait, and it cracked clean in two with a sharp snap.

Something in me went hollow, as if I'd been emptied out.

I scrambled down to gather it up, wood splinters and glass shards catching on my fingertips, beads of blood welling up at once.

"Auntie! Don't go pleading with Brandon, hoping he'll let you stay on in this house waiting on people!"

"You shameless old slut, this family doesn't want you!"

Cradling the photo broken in two, I lifted my head and looked at Brandon.

My mother, his late grandmother, was once the person who loved him most.

"See for yourself what she's done!"

A flicker of grief crossed Brandon's face, almost impossible to hide, his lips moving twice.

He looked away from my eyes and drew a deep breath.

"Can't you just go back for now? I'm begging you."

The anger boiled up in me from every direction.

I wanted nothing more than to land a punch on this heartless little brat.

But he suddenly swayed and threw out a hand to catch himself against the wall.

His face was white as paper, the purple in his lips more pronounced now.

My heart clenched hard.

His white blood cell count was spiking again.

All the fury, the grievance, the hatred, all of it got crushed down in that single instant.

I reached out to steady him, my eyes reddening before I could stop them.

"Don't say another word. Come with me to the hospital, now!"

I had my son in hand and had barely turned to go.

But Linda lifted her chin, imperious.

"Brandon! If you dare fawn over this pregnant scam-artist third wheel, I'll have your dad cut off your card!"

"Then you'll know the truth. I'm the one your dad loves most, the one closest to his heart!"

4: 4

Linda's words hit like a thunderclap, and my ears rang.

Stiffly, I turned my neck to face Brandon.

"That girl is your father's mistress? Not your girlfriend?"

Brandon didn't answer. He seized my arm instead, gripping hard enough to snap the bone.

"You're pregnant? Madison, you're forty-six! What business do you have being pregnant!"

Spit flew into my face.

His eyes were bloodshot, wild enough to devour me.

"How can you be so selfish!"

"You just have to saddle me with a stumbling block, don't you, so I spend my whole life dragging around your extra baggage!"

A shudder ran through me. Something like rotten cotton was stuffed into my chest, packed so tight I couldn't breathe.

Who would willingly gamble on a high-risk delivery, on hemorrhaging, on the agony of childbirth?

In the hospital database, no bone-marrow match for him had ever turned up.

His white cell count kept climbing, and the doctor said if we waited any longer it would be too late.

I was risking everything to carry a second child, all to save the cord blood, so he could have the stem cell transplant!

"It's not what you think..."

My eyes burned, and I reached for him, my voice gone hoarse.

"Listen to me. It's because..."

"Enough!"

Brandon flung my hand off without a shred of mercy.

The force nearly knocked me down.

He didn't spare me an ounce of pity.

Every word out of his mouth was pure cruelty.

"Don't try to fool me with your excuses!"

"All you care about is having one of each, a son and a daughter. You don't care whether I live or die!"

"Dad is a thousand times more worthy than you! He gives me resources, he clears a path for my future, all you do is cause trouble!"

Leaning against the door frame, Linda had finally worked out that I was the real wife, the one she'd never seen.

Yet in this moment she didn't look the least bit guilty.

She twirled a lock of hair around one perfectly manicured nail, her whole face a taunt.

"Ma'am, you really are too obsessed. Brandon's this impressive, and if you won't help him, fine, but you have to go and have a baby to drag him down too."

"No wonder Mr. Gilbert would rather come to me than spare you a single glance."

"Anyone would find a wife and mother as selfish as you unbearable."

The whole thing struck me as absurd, laughable.

I pointed at Linda's shallow, ugly face and asked Brandon.

"Your father took a mistress about your own age right under your nose, and you still think he's the good one?"

Brandon gave an indifferent sneer.

"So what!"

"Dad's a man who's made something of himself. What's wrong with keeping a young girl!"

"At least he didn't go and get one pregnant!"

"He only betrayed you, not me!"

"And you having a second child, that's the real betrayal of me!"

Cold spread through me, every breath a sting.

"You actually... think that way?"

Brandon wasn't moved in the slightest. He pressed in closer, his words sharper by the second.

"That's exactly right! Dad is the backbone of the Gilbert family. You're just a housewife, and the fact that he hasn't divorced you means you should be down on your knees grateful!"

"Me stopping you from making a scene, that's all for your own good!"

"You just have to keep clawing at my dad's private business."

"Keep pulling this nonsense and see if he doesn't divorce you on the spot and leave you to walk away with nothing!"

My vision went blood-red, and it all felt endlessly ironic.

The blood in me ran cold.

On the surface I don't work, but behind the scenes I hold a controlling stake in seven companies. Dragonet Law Firm is only one of them.

Charles was the one who'd married up, living off his wife.

I'd never said a word about it, afraid my son would look down on his own father.

The tears finally fell, salty and bitter.

Linda looked even more pleased with herself. The corner of her mouth curled into a smile both saccharine and vicious.

"At your age, who knows if the baby you're carrying is even healthy."

"What if it comes out disabled, or slow? Isn't that just a sin? And then Brandon would be the one left to clean up after you."

Brandon's face grew darker still. He gave the order with no regard for how I felt.

"You're going to the hospital right now to get rid of it."

"You dare have it, and don't blame me for refusing to call you my mother."

I was shaking all over.

It felt like someone had torn a hole clean through my chest.

There was no point arguing anymore.

I turned and started for the door.

But Linda came over, pretending to help me.

The moment her hand touched me, she let out a shriek. "Oh!"

As if I'd shoved her, she dragged me hard down the steps with her.

Brandon instinctively caught Linda.

And watched me tumble down the steps of the European-style entryway.

Warm blood ran down the leg of my pants.

The baby was gone.