Mistaken for a Maid: The Heiress's Revenge

I dragged myself through the front door of my family's estate, exhausted from a long trip and looking like hell.

The second I crossed the threshold, a fistful of cleaning supplies was jammed into my chest. A woman I didn't recognize looked down her nose at me. "Hurry it up.

This house needs to be spotless by six!" My eyes dropped to the silk robe she was wearing—my mother's silk robe.

I actually took a step backward onto the porch to check the exterior of the twostory house. Nope, this was definitely my house. So who the hell was this woman?

And more importantly—who was cleaning what? Me? The pampered, trustfund only child?

I unlocked my phone, pulled up the family group chat, and tagged my dad. [ @Montgomery Your new mistress is ordering me to scrub your floors.

Care to explain? ] Chapter 1 Three seconds after hitting send, the family group chat exploded.

My dearest mother fired off a string of question marks. [ Grandpa: ??? ] [ Grandma: Sweetheart, you're home? What mistress? ] [ Grandpa Joe: Montgomery!

If you're messing around on my daughter, I'm pulling my investments by morning! ] [ Montgomery: I'm innocent! I swear! Celine, stop talking nonsense! What mistress? I wouldn't dare!

Your mother is glaring daggers at me right now! I'm literally in a faculty meeting at the university! ] [ Celine: Come see for yourself! ] I stared at the screen to type my reply.

A rough hand darted into my field of vision and snatched the phone right out of my grip. "Hey! What the hell?" I lunged for it.

The woman clenched my phone in her fist, shoving her face inches from my nose. "Are you deaf? You walk in here and immediately start playing on your phone instead of working!

You kids today are so damn lazy. You can't handle a single drop of hard work. Let me spell it out for you. You took this cleaning job, so you're going to do it right.

Otherwise, I'll call your agency and file a complaint. Try me." A harsh, breathless laugh ripped out of my throat.

In my twentyodd years of life, no one besides my mother had ever dared to snatch something out of my hands. I locked eyes with her, dropping the playful act entirely.

I held out my empty hand. "Give me back the phone." My grandparents had drilled humility into my skull since childhood. Treat people as equals. Keep a low profile.

I never walked around acting like I was better than anyone else. But that didn't mean I was going to let some random maid walk all over me in my own house. "Give it back?

And what if I don't?" She raised the phone higher above her head, her lips curling into a sneer. "What are you going to do? Call the cops? Run crying to your manager?

I'll have you know Professor Montgomery, the master of this house, values me very highly.

One word from me, and you're out on the street!" I crossed my arms over my chest and tilted my head. "The master of the house values you?" I let a smirk touch the corner of my mouth. "What exactly does Professor Montgomery value about you?

Your advanced age or your lack of personal hygiene?" The color drained from her face, then flooded back in an ugly, blotchy red. "You little bitch!

Watch your mouth!" She pointed a trembling finger at me. "You're just jealous! Jealous that I've got it good, jealous that I'm the lady of this house! Take a look in the mirror.

You're dressed like a beggar. You reek of poverty. Who the hell gave you the right to talk back to me?" I dropped my gaze to my outfit.

For the long train ride, I'd thrown on a baggy, fleecelined gray tracksuit. My hair was a tangled mess from sleeping against the window glass. I looked like a total wreck.

The trip had given me a slight tan, and without a drop of makeup, my skin looked dull and exhausted.

But to this woman, my travelworn appearance was ironclad proof that I was the new cleaning girl.

Chapter 2 "I'm the daughter of this family." I dropped the games and laid out the facts."That silk robe you're wearing belongs to my mother. Take it off. Right now.

And get the hell out of my house." Dead silence hung in the air. Then, a shrill laugh ripped from the woman's throat. "Hilarious! You?

The daughter?" She doubled over, pointing a finger right between my eyes. "If you're the daughter of this house, I'm the Queen of England!

Little girl, you're too young to be playing pretend. I haven't met the daughter yet, but Professor Montgomery says she's studying abroad! She's old money.

She wouldn't be caught dead in cheap clearance rack trash like that." "I know your type.

You saw I had it better than you, so you made up some pathetic lie to stroke your own ego." Her smile vanished, replaced by a cold, hard stare. "I'm cutting you slack because you're young and working a tough job.

Do the cleaning, and I'll pretend this little delusion never happened. Otherwise?

You won't see a single dime, and I'll sue you for emotional distress." I dragged in a slow, deep breath.

The pulse in my neck thumped hard against my skin. "I'll say this one last time. This is my house. I'm Celine. If you don't believe me, call Professor Montgomery." "Call him?

He's a busy man! He doesn't have time for a scammer like you!" She had convinced herself of her own reality. Or maybe she was just desperate to keep the fantasy alive.

I closed the distance between us and reached for my property. "Give me the phone." "Ungrateful little bitch!" Her arm snapped down. She slammed my phone onto the marble floor.

Crack. The sharp sound echoed through the massive living room. My brandnew, topoftheline phone shattered. A web of fractured glass bloomed across the screen. I froze.

The breath hitched in my throat.

I genuinely hadn't expected her to destroy my property. "You—" Before I could finish the sentence, she grabbed the red plastic mop bucket by her feet.

She swung it up and hurled the contents directly at my face. Splash. Pure, boneaching ice water soaked through my fleece tracksuit in a millisecond.

It felt like a thousand frozen needles piercing straight into my pores. It was a paralyzing, suffocating cold. It was the dead of winter outside.

The house had radiant floor heating, but she had just drawn this water straight from the tap. My brain shortcircuited. Hard shivers wracked my body.

Soaked strands of hair plastered against my cheeks. Icingcold droplets rolled off my chin. Pinging against the imported marble. "Wide awake now?" She tossed the empty bucket aside.

She stood over me, her face twisted in a sick, triumphant sneer. "Aren't you the rich daughter? Isn't this your house? You needed to be taught a lesson.

You don't come onto my turf and act wild without knowing who you're dealing with!" "You… you're crazy…" I tried to form the words.

My teeth clattered together so hard my jaw ached. "I'm crazy? You're the crazy one!" She lunged forward. Her thick fingers twisted into my soaking wet hair.

Blinding pain ripped across my scalp. She yanked my head back, forcing me to stare straight up into her wild, unhinged eyes. "The houses in this gated community are miles apart.

You can scream until your throat bleeds, and no one is coming to save you." She leaned in close, her breath hot against my freezing skin. "Call the cops?

Your phone is in pieces on the floor. Who the hell are you going to call?" Chapter 3 It was true.

The houses in this gated community were built for absolute privacy, separated by massive gardens and dense trees.

Unless I made it out the front door, no one would hear a damn thing. I was freezing. Exhausted. My legs had turned to lead after standing on a train for six hours.

The shock of the ice water paralyzed my muscles. I couldn't fight off a woman who spent her life doing manual labor. "What are you doing…" "What am I doing?

Teaching you a lesson!" Her grip tightened in my roots. She dragged me across the floor like a dead dog, hauling me straight toward the firstfloor bathroom. "Let go!

Let me go!" I thrashed wildly. My hands clawed at her wrists, my nails tearing deep red scratches into her skin. "Bitch!" She hissed in pain.

Her free hand swung back and cracked across my cheek. Smack. The force of the blow rattled my skull. A sharp, highpitched ringing pierced my left ear.

Black spots exploded across my vision. Before I could even catch my breath, she slammed my chest against the edge of the bathroom sink. She cranked the faucet all the way open.

Pure cold water blasted into the basin. "Wake up!" Her heavy palm shoved against the back of my head. She plunged my face into the rising water. Ice flooded my nose.

It rushed down my throat. My chest seized as my lungs fought for oxygen. The freezing temperature locked my jaw. I thrashed blindly.

My hands flailed through the air, knocking over heavy glass soap dispensers and reed diffusers. They shattered against the tiles. She yanked me back up.

I gasped, choking on air and water. My lungs burned like they were filled with battery acid.

Liquid poured down my face—a messy mix of tap water and tears. "Had enough?" She kept her fist tangled in my hair, forcing my face inches from hers. "Still want to play the rich heiress?" I glared at her, my chest heaving.

If looks could kill, she'd be bleeding out on the floor. "You're going to regret this…" I ground the words out between my chattering teeth. "You will regret this." A cold scoff escaped her lips.

Her eyes dropped to my dripping clothes. "Look at you. You're ruining my floors! Water everywhere.

You're a filthy mess." She released my hair and pointed to a dirty rag piled in the corner. "Take it off." My brain stalled. "What?" "I said take your clothes off!" Her eyes went dead and dark. "How are you going to work in soaking wet clothes?

Strip that filthy skin off so you don't ruin my carpets and my couches. Scrub the floors naked.

You can leave when they shine." "In your dreams." I wrapped my arms tightly around my shivering body. "Have it your way!" She snapped.

She lunged at me like a feral animal, her thick fingers clawing at the fabric of my jacket. "Get off me! My dad is coming right back!

You better let go right now, or my family will ruin you!" I fought back with everything I had left. But the physical difference was a crushing disadvantage.

My trip had completely drained me. I just wanted to come home and sleep. The soaked fleece was incredibly heavy, clinging freezing cold to my skin.

Under her violent yanks, the metal zipper busted open. The sound of tearing fabric ripped through the cramped bathroom. Chapter 4 Smack. Smack.

Two more openhanded blows cracked across my face. A sharp, metallic tang of rust flooded my mouth. The skin of my lower lip split open.

Brenda tore the jacket off my shoulders and threw it to the floor. Then went the hoodie.

In the end, I was left in nothing but my bra and underwear, backed into the corner of the bathroom. Violent shivers racked my spine. The cold sank straight into my marrow.

I had spent my entire life wrapped in bubble wrap, treated like royalty by my grandparents. My parents barely even raised their voices at me.

Everything had always been easy, smooth, and safe. I never could have fathomed that human malice could look like this. Brenda seemed thoroughly satisfied with her handiwork.

She stood over me, clutching the torn scraps of my clothes like a trophy. "There we go.

If you'd just listened in the first place, we wouldn't have had to do this." She kicked my ruined clothes aside like trash, turned on her heel, and marched out of the bathroom.

I watched her from the doorway. She smoothed down her messy hair and tugged at the seams of my mother's silk robe, which was stretching dangerously over her frame.

She sank back into the plush living room sofa, picked up her halfempty glass of red wine, and took an exaggeratedly elegant sip. "Hurry it up," she called out over her shoulder. "And don't even think about running.

The front door is deadbolted. If this place isn't spotless by six o'clock, I'm taking pictures of you exactly like that and posting them all over the internet.

Let everyone see what happens to little scammers." My head spun. Dark spots danced at the edge of my vision. My limbs went numb. Then, the doorbell rang.

Through the foyer, I saw a middleaged woman standing on the porch. She wore a blue uniform, carried a heavyduty supply caddy, and was sweating profusely.

Her face was a picture of pure panic. "Oh my gosh, I am so, so sorry!" She practically bowed. "The traffic on the interstate was a nightmare. I'm with the cleaning agency.

Professor Montgomery booked me for a deep clean and window washing this afternoon. I'm so sorry I'm late!" The air in the room instantly turned to lead.

Brenda's posture went rigid on the sofa. The cleaning lady's eyes darted between Brenda on the couch and me standing halfnaked in the bathroom doorway.

Her brow furrowed, her gaze darting between us. "Is… is this…" She pointed a tentative finger in my direction. Brenda's face tightened for a fraction of a second.

But a gear shifted in her brain, and she forced her features back into a haughty mask. "What are you staring at?

Haven't you ever seen a house manager disciplining a disobedient maid before?" She pointed her goldringed finger right at my chest.

A silent, vicious warning flashed in her eyes. "The mister takes good care of me. He hired two girls just to help me out. This little brat just started.

She's got sticky fingers and a lazy streak.

I'm just teaching her how things work around here." She whipped her head around to glare at the new arrival, trying to crush her with sheer volume. "And that goes for you, too!

You took the job, so you better work hard. You see this?" She gestured to me. "This is what happens when you slack off!

If these floors aren't shining, you won't be walking out that front door in one piece!" The cleaning lady flinched hard at the sudden shouting.

But then, her brow furrowed. "Ma'am, are you sure you have the right information?" "What do you mean, the right information?" Brenda snapped. "It's the holidays.

When the client placed the order, I was the only person available at the agency." The woman was clearly a straight shooter, laying the facts out flatly. "The client explicitly said he had a livein maid, and that the two of us would tackle the house together.

He never mentioned a third person. He even paid a premium holiday rate for the inconvenience." Chapter 5