Maid Stole My New Car for Wedding, I Locked It

I'd just gotten home from a business trip when I found my housekeeper plastering wedding decorations all over my brand-new Maybach.

Sylvia Henson, honey, my son's getting married in a few days. Your car here is decent enough, so it'll do for the wedding car.

Remember to wash it the day before and fill up the tank. And put plenty of cigarettes and top-shelf liquor in the trunk.

"Dress festive that day, and be up by five to come along and fetch the bride with me."

I looked at that face of hers, so sure she was owed all this, and it made me laugh out loud.

"Melanie Chavez, I pay you to work for me. Now I'm supposed to hand over my car and myself on top of it, to go work for your son?"

She just rolled her eyes and threw the rag down on the hood.

"This car's only sitting here collecting dust anyway. Us using it is doing you a favor, letting you catch a little of the good luck, and you're turning your nose up at it?"

"An old maid nobody will marry, and I didn't even ask you for a big envelope of cash. That's me being decent."

"You're this stingy, no in-laws are ever going to want you!"

I looked at the white smears the glue had left across the paint, let out a cold laugh, and ripped the decorations right off the car.

"The cost of washing it and getting the glue off is coming out of your pay. And starting tomorrow, don't bother coming in."

"..."

Melanie blinked, and once she realized I wasn't joking, she panicked on the spot.

"Sylvia, you can't be so cold-hearted."

She grabbed my arm like we were close, forcing an awkward smile.

"I'm a foolish old woman, my mouth just runs off without me. You're bigger than that, don't hold it against me."

I looked down and saw she'd deliberately wiped her glue-covered hand across my sleeve, leaving it sticky all over.

"Let go."

But she didn't let go. She clung tighter and broke into loud sobbing.

"Why is my life so bitter."

"My husband passed early and left the two of us all alone, and I scraped and struggled to raise my boy."

"He's thirty this year, been going on blind dates for seven years, no car, no house, turned down every single time."

"We finally found a girl willing to marry him, but her family wants a luxury car to fetch the bride, or they'll call off the engagement."

"A luxury car's sitting right here in front of us. Why shouldn't we get to use it?"

She cried until her face was a mess of snot, her voice gone raw and hoarse.

I yanked my arm free and stepped back.

"Your hard life isn't a reason to take advantage of me. If you want to look impressive, go rent a car."

"My car is not for loan."

Melanie's crying cut off at once. Seeing I wouldn't give an inch, her eyes darted around.

Then all at once she dropped to her knees with a thud.

"You've got so much money, buying a car is like buying a toy to you. Can't you have a little pity on a mother?"

"I'm only doing it for my child, so he can hold his head up in front of his in-laws."

The words were barely out before she jerked her head up and slammed her forehead down against the floor tile.

Her forehead went red in an instant, warm blood trickling slowly down her wrinkled face.

"You"

I opened my mouth, and every word I'd meant to say jammed in my throat.

My own mother knelt to someone once too.

Over rent we couldn't pay, down on her knees in front of the landlord, with six-year-old me tucked behind her.

The same posture. The same sound.

I closed my eyes, let out a long, heavy sigh, and pulled a tissue from my pocket to hand her.

"Get up."

Melanie lifted her bloody face and stared up at me, pleading.

"The car, that's absolutely off-limits. That's my line. But you can keep the job."

"And I'll give you a month's pay up front as a wedding gift. You can use it to rent a car."

Melanie nodded over and over, wiping her tears as she climbed to her feet.

"Thank you, Sylvia, I knew you had a good heart. I'll do as you say, I won't touch your car, I swear."

I turned and headed upstairs, and out of the corner of my eye I caught her eyes rolling around again, scheming.

But I'd been traveling for two weeks straight and I was exhausted. I didn't want to drag it out, so I just went to my room.

Early the next morning, I left on another trip out of town.

The plan had been to stay a full week, but the project moved along smoothly and wrapped up three days early.

I kept thinking about the look on Melanie's face the day she'd asked to borrow the car, and something never sat right with me, so I rushed back the night before the wedding.

The driver dropped me at the entrance to my community, and I'd barely taken a few steps when I saw the gate to my own garden standing wide open.

The lawn in the yard was crammed full of scooters and three-wheelers, parked every which way.

The mansion was lit up top to bottom, every window blazing.

Even from tens of meters away I could hear music coming from inside, and the roar of men playing drinking games.

"Five in a row, six-six-six!"

"Drink up, drink up, you're the groom tomorrow!"

I dropped my bags and rushed inside, and the sight in the living room sent blood shooting straight to my head.

The silk carpet was buried in cigarette butts and gobs of phlegm, tramped down black until you couldn't tell what color it had been.

Bottles were piled into a mountain on the coffee table, greasy soup dripping off the edge and pooling on the floor.

A few shirtless men crowded around the dining table, drinking and yelling out their games, the whole place reeking of smoke and liquor and stale sweat.

The door to the walk-in closet stood wide open.

Several older women were packed inside, holding up my lingerie against their bodies.

"The groom's family really thought of everything, they even bought the underwear in advance."

"Feels so smooth, real silk. Tag says eighteen thousand."

"Who cares, they bought this much, be a fool not to take some."

One stout woman had already forced my custom coat onto herself, the buttons straining out of shape.

"I suck in my gut and it just fits. I'm taking this one."

My temples throbbed with rage, and just as I opened my mouth a pack of wild kids slammed into me.

Each one had a jar of my face cream, flinging it at each other like frosting.

Passing the TV, they smeared it onto the screen in fat clumps.

"Whoa, so fun, and it smells nice too. Let's have a contest, see who hits best."

My nails dug deep into my palms, and for one dizzy second I thought this had to be a nightmare.

But what broke me was the master bedroom door, left ajar.

From inside came the faint teasing of a man and a woman, and sounds that were sickening to hear.

Right then a woman's voice carried down from the top of the stairs.

"My dear in-law, this house is so grand, and the decor is so refined. My daughter didn't marry wrong!"

A middle-aged man chimed in.

"That's right, a mansion in a spot like this, has to be worth ten million at least. Your family's got real money."

I followed the voices, and nearly thought I was seeing things.

Melanie, wearing the suit I'd just had made, was coming slowly down the stairs with the two of them, a wine glass in her hand.

She was all smiles, lifting her glass toward the curly-haired woman beside her.

"Of course. This is everything I worked my whole life to build up for my son."

"Your daughter marries into our family, she's got nothing but good living ahead of her."

"Come, my dear in-law, let's drink to it. Everyone tonight, don't hold back, help yourselves, make yourselves at home."

I was shaking with fury. I kicked aside the bottle in my path and pointed at the roomful of people and shouted.

"All of you, get out of my house."

The whole living room went silent in an instant, every face turning to me.

The wine glass in Melanie's hand hit the floor and shattered, and the color drained from her face.

The curly-haired woman frowned and turned to ask in a low voice.

"My dear in-law, who is this woman?"

Melanie was in a panic, fingers clenched into the hem of her dress, and forced out a shout.

"Oh, that's our housekeeper. She's got something wrong in the head, don't mind her."

The people around us murmured to each other, throwing me looks of contempt.

"The housekeeper? Here I thought it was somebody. Gave me a scare."

"She really is sick in the head. The host is entertaining guests, what's a hired hand yammering about?"

I opened my mouth to explain, but Melanie had already rushed over.

One hand clamped hard over my mouth, the other gripping my arm, hauling and dragging me into the hallway.

The moment we hit the corner, she looked around, saw no one, and let go, then dropped to her knees in front of me again with a thud.

"Sylvia, hear me out. There were outsiders just now, I had no choice."

Her voice trembled as she wrapped her arms around my waist, tears streaming down.

"The bride's family sprang a demand on us, they had to see the wedding home before the wedding or they'd call it off."

"With how expensive property is in New York, how could I ever afford it? I could only borrow your house to get through one night."

"They'll be gone first thing in the morning. I'll clean the place spotless and give it back to you, I'm begging you."

I looked at her dodging the real point, dressing herself up as some pitiful victim, that shameless face, and I laughed coldly.

"Melanie, you call this getting through one night? You let them help themselves to my things, and on my bed they"

"This is getting through one night?"

"Aren't you afraid the bride finds out the truth after the wedding?"

She took it as a yes, wiped her tears at once, and waved a hand.

"Ah, once she's married in, we can bend her any way we like. Not your worry."

Her shamelessness pushed me from anger into a laugh. I flung her hand off and pulled out my phone, opening the dial screen.

"I won't play along and help you cheat people. I won't do something this heartless."

"Being poor doesn't give you the right to break into my house and wreck it."

"Either you tell them the truth right now, pay for the damage at full price, and clear everyone out, or I let the police clear them out."

At those words, Melanie's kneeling body went rigid. She slowly lifted her head and looked at me.

And all at once her eyes changed.

She nodded over and over, rubbed her palms against her thighs, and slowly pushed herself up off the floor.

"All right, all right, don't be upset, Sylvia, it's all my fault, I'll send everyone away right now, just don't call the police."

Then she lunged, snatched the phone out of my hand, and shoved me hard at the same time.

The push sent me stumbling backward, my heels caught on the wine cellar threshold, and I went down.

The back of my head slammed against the brick floor, and everything went black for a second.

Melanie backed out fast and swung the heavy iron door shut behind her.

The click of the lock was very clear in the silent cellar.

I forced myself up through the pain and pounded on the door.

"Melanie, open this door. Do you have any idea this is a crime?"

Her voice hissed back through the door, deliberately lowered.

"Nobody is going to stop my son from getting married!"

The pounding drew people over, and I heard a jumble of footsteps in the hallway.

"What's wrong, Aunt Melanie? What's that noise?"

"It's nothing, it's nothing."

Her voice slid back into that soft, helpless tone.

"Oh she's having one of her episodes again. She always thinks this house is hers and goes around chasing people out, telling them to get lost."

"Poor thing, really. She had nowhere to go, so I let her stay. Just lock her in for the night and she'll be fine."

The blood rushed to my head.

"Don't listen to her lies. This is my house. She's the housekeeper."

But not one of them questioned it. They crowded up to the little vent window in the door instead.

A thick glob of spit came through the wire mesh and hit me square on the forehead.

"Gone crazy from being poor? Ungrateful piece of work. Worked yourself out of your mind and actually think you're some rich lady?"

"Right, doesn't even look at what she is, still trying to turn it around and bite the hand that fed her."

"What's there to make a fuss about on such a happy day? Taking you in was already generous. No gratitude at all. One night locked up is getting off easy."

A cigarette butt flicked in through the vent, still glowing, and landed on my shoulder. I flinched hard from the burn.

More spit followed, mixed with cigarette butts, coming through the gaps in the mesh again and again.

All I could do was dodge and back into the farthest corner of the cellar.

Melanie's voice came from outside.

"Leave her be. Go eat, have a drink. Turn the music up so she doesn't bother anyone."

The estates out here were already spread far apart, with good soundproofing and privacy.

With the music covering everything, my cries for help were drowned out completely. No one was coming for me.

And it was worse than that. On a scorching summer night, the cellar was kept at a steady fifties, cold enough to make my bones ache.

In a thin silk blouse, I shivered in that black, freezing space.

Listening to the housekeeper's son, Ryan Lambert, throw a bachelor party with a pack of his good-for-nothing friends in my own house.

My stomach trouble flared under the double push of cold and anger, cramping in wave after wave.

I clenched my fists tight and curled in on myself as much as I could to ease the pain, gritting my teeth through it.

I don't know how much time passed before the noise overhead slowly died down, with an occasional snore drifting through.

Before long, alarms went off one after another, and the crowd got loud again.

"Up, up, we leave at five to fetch the bride."

"Where are the car keys? Who's got the spare?"

"I've got it, dug it out of the drawer. Come on, let's go!"

The footsteps faded, and the sound of a car engine came from the direction of the garage.

Only my own heavy breathing was left in the cellar.

I slowly propped myself up, my eyes settling on the neat row of wine bottles on the rack.

Then I looked up, at that old ventilation duct opening in the ceiling.

The mesh had already rusted, and the screws were hanging loose in it.

I grabbed a bottle of red wine and swung it down against the floor.

From the wreckage I picked out the largest shard and climbed up the wine rack.

The edge was razor-sharp, and the moment I gripped it, it bit into my palm.

I caught hold of the iron frame around the vent and started sawing at the rusted mesh, shard against wire, bit by bit.

I don't know how long it took, but the mesh finally gave way, opening a gap just wide enough to crawl through.

My hand had gone numb by then. All I could feel was the warm wet running down it.

Teeth clenched, filthy with dust and blood, I dragged myself out through the duct.

The living room was empty, but the mess everywhere told me last night hadn't been a nightmare.

I ran all the way to the garage, and sure enough, the space was empty.

That Maybach was no ordinary car.

My mother had worked herself half to death her whole life and ended up with a serious respiratory illness, allergic to any harsh smell.

So two years ago I'd had it custom-built for her, eco-friendly interior, medical-grade air filtration.

I'd been waiting to give it to her when she got discharged next week, as her sixtieth birthday gift.

When the car came home, I didn't even dare wear perfume around it.

I laughed, so furious I could do nothing else, and turned to the corner where Aunt Melanie had tossed my phone after snatching it from me.

The screen was cracked at one corner, but it still lit up. It had just died from a dead battery.

I dug out the charger, plugged it in with shaking hands, and dialed her number.

It rang twice before she picked up, firecrackers and hollering going off in the background.

"Aunt Melanie, that car is my mother's sixtieth birthday gift. She can't breathe around harsh smells."

"Bring it back now and I'll let all of this go. Every bit of it."

A snort came down the line.

"That sickly mother of yours, how many days does she have left? What's she doing riding in a car that nice?"

"I'm going to have my son smoke in it, and what are you going to do about it?"

"Using your car does you a favor, blesses that junk of yours with a little luck. You should be grateful I didn't turn my nose up at it."

I forced the anger down. "Aunt Melanie, last time I'm asking"

I didn't finish. Her voice cut in, shrill.

"You little wretch, you keep quiet. Don't you dare ruin my family's big day."

"Call and stir up trouble again, and I'll go to that hospital and tear the place apart around your mother!"

Then she hung up.

I looked down at my palm, cut to raw meat, and at the empty garage, and I smiled.

Fine. I hope you won't regret it.

I pulled up the back end of the car's onboard smart console.

The signal loaded for five seconds, and a red dot appeared on the screen.

The location showed my car parked at the entrance of the Grand Metropolitan Hotel. It had just stopped.

Ryan's wedding was clearly booked here, and the wedding car had just brought the bride to the venue.

The busiest moment, the biggest crowd.

I let out a cold laugh and opened the car's advanced controls.

Anti-theft, anti-hijack mode: on.

Rear electronic child locks: engaged.

Central control for all physical windows: locked.

My finger kept tapping, on, on, on, lock, lock, lock.

Until a line of green text flashed across the screen.

Vehicle has entered security lockdown mode. Doors and windows locked. Can only be released by the owner's phone.

I walked to the sink, turned on the tap, and watched the water rinse the dried blood off my hand.

The water ran pink, swirling in circles down the drain.

My phone rang out of nowhere. The caller ID said Aunt Melanie.

The moment I answered, I heard her on the other end, roaring in a blind rage.

"Sylvia, you little slut, what did you do? My son and daughter-in-law are locked inside the car!"