The Housemaid's Secret: A totally gripping psychological thriller with a shocking twist by Freida McFadden

Author:Freida McFadden [McFadden, Freida]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781837901319
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2023-02-19T16:00:00+00:00

I grit my teeth. Oh my God, how many times does this man have to tell me he loves me? He’s expecting me to write it back, but I just can’t make myself do it right now. These “I love you’s” are holding me hostage. So instead, I take a selfie of myself making a kissy face and I text it back to him. That’s kind of like saying I love you, right? He writes back instantly.

You look cute. I wish you were here.

Oh my God, does literally everything he says to me have to be some sort of guilt trip about the fact that I didn’t move in with him?

I toss my phone aside, frustrated. I start to get up to brush my teeth when the phone starts ringing. It’s probably Brock, considering I didn’t answer his text. He’s probably going to ask if he can come over. And I’m going to have to nicely tell him no.

Except when I look down at the screen of my phone, it’s not Brock. It’s Douglas.

Why is Douglas calling me at midnight?

I stare down at my phone for a minute, my heart pounding. There’s no good reason my boss would be calling me at midnight. I’m tempted to let it go to voicemail, but instead, I swipe to take the call.

“Millie.” His voice sounds slightly clipped. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No…”

“Good,” he says. “I’m sorry to call you so late, but I thought it’s better if you hear this now. After this week, we will no longer be requiring your services.”

“You… you’re firing me?”

“Well,” he says, “not firing, exactly. More like letting you go. Wendy seems to be feeling better, and she would like to have some privacy in our own house again.”

“Oh…”

“It’s not that you didn’t do an adequate job.” Gee, thanks. “It’s just that a married couple needs their privacy. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I’m getting the message loud and clear. He doesn’t want me to talk to Wendy or attempt to help her.

“You understand, don’t you, Millie?” he presses me.

“Sure,” I say through clenched teeth. “Of course I do.”

“Good.” His tone lightens. “And just to thank you for everything you have done for us, I’d like to give you a pair of tickets to a Mets game. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” I say slowly. “I do like the Mets…”

“Great! It’s all settled then.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good night, Millie. Sleep tight.”

As I hang up the phone, I still have an uneasy feeling. Something was bothering me about that conversation—something I can’t quite put my finger on. I plop back down on my bed, and that’s when I look down at the oversized T-shirt that I’m wearing to sleep in.

It’s a Mets T-shirt.

I raise my eyes to look at the window across from me. The blinds are closed like they always are. I run over to the window and crack my fingers between the blinds to look outside at the street. It’s completely dark. I don’t see any ominous men standing outside.

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