He Chose The Maid Over The Heiress

Kimberly POV

The sheer audacity of it took my breath away. It wasn't merely theft. It was a costume. She was wearing my skin.

Evalena sauntered toward us, the heels of my own boots clacking against the pavement. She moved with a practiced sway, a performance of wealth she had meticulously studied by watching me from the shadows of my hallway.

Ms. Albright rushed to meet her.

"Oh, Mrs. Gould. Thank goodness you are here. This woman"-she pointed a shaking finger at me-"she assaulted me. She claims to be the mother."

Evalena stopped directly in front of me. She adjusted the collar of the coat, her fingers brushing fabric I knew more intimately than my own face.

"Hello, Kimberly," she said, her voice light and dismissive. "I didn't think you would make it back from your trip so soon."

"Take it off," I said.

Evalena laughed. It was a tinkling, hollow sound.

"Don't cause a scene, Kim. You know how Austyn hates scenes."

My daughter ran to me then. She buried her face against my thigh, her body trembling with silent sobs. I placed a hand on her head, feeling the heat of her tears through my slacks.

Ms. Albright stepped between us, acting as a shield for the thief.

"You need to leave," she told me, her voice rising. "Or I will call security. Mrs. Gould is a respected parent here. You are clearly unstable."

I looked at the teacher. She was a civilian. She had no idea that she was standing between a lion and its meal.

"Call them," I said softly. "Call the police. Call the FBI. Call God if you think He is listening."

Ms. Albright faltered. She looked at Evalena for reassurance.

"It is okay," Evalena said, patting the teacher's arm. "She is just the former housekeeper. We had to let her go. She had a problem with... stealing."

The lie was so bold, so absolute, that I almost admired it. It was a classic Mafia tactic: Deny everything. Accuse the accuser.

"You are wearing my coat, Evalena," I said. "You are wearing my boots. You are driving my car."

Evalena sighed, rolling her eyes.

"See? She is delusional. Austyn bought me this coat for our anniversary."

Anniversary.

The word hung in the air like smoke.

Ms. Albright's face hardened. "I want you off school property immediately. You are frightening the children."

I stepped forward. Ms. Albright put a hand on my chest and shoved.

It wasn't a hard shove. It was barely a push. But in my world, touching the Don is a death sentence.

My security detail stepped out from the shadows. Two men, built like mountains, wearing suits that cost more than this teacher's annual salary. They didn't draw weapons; they didn't have to. They just stood there, and the air in the courtyard dropped ten degrees.

Ms. Albright froze. Her hand fell from my chest as if she had touched a hot stove.

Evalena's smile faltered. She knew those men. She had served them coffee in my kitchen while they discussed body disposal.

"Kimberly," Evalena whispered, her voice losing its fake polish. "Don't do this here."

I looked down at her. I saw the fear starting to crack the porcelain mask.

"I am not doing anything," I said. "I am waiting."

"Waiting for what?" Ms. Albright squeaked.

"For my husband," I said.

As if on cue, a long black limousine turned the corner. It was the flagship vehicle of the Miller fleet. The license plate read: KJM 1. Kimberly Jane Miller.

But I wasn't in it.

Austyn was.