“You Came Back?” the Maid Whispered—The Mafia Boss Secretly Returned Before Dawn to Test His Fiancée, Then Heard Her Threaten His Widowed Sister and Steal From His Dead Mother’s Trust…

By ten o'clock in the morning, the heavy rain had turned into a steady, grey drizzle that hung over the grounds of the estate.

In the main kitchen, the executive chef and three assistants were bustling about, prepping lobster terrines and fine pastries for the next day’s rehearsal dinner. The air was filled with the scents of roasted garlic, rich butter, and fresh herbs.

Emma stood near the rear prep counter, quietly chopping vegetables while keeping her eyes fixed on the secondary service corridor that led to the staff quarters.

Her heart was beating a frantic rhythm against her ribs, but she forced her hands to remain completely steady. She had done exactly as Dominic had instructed. She had left the door to her small, modest room on the ground floor unlocked, with the wardrobe slightly ajar.

From her angle near the prep station, Emma saw Brooke Harrington walk down the stairs from the main house.

Brooke was no longer wearing her tailored grey trousersuit. She had changed into an elegant powder-blue silk dress—the picture of a gracious, wealthy bride preparing for her wedding. In her right hand, she carried a small leather handbag; tucked discreetly beneath her arm was a folded linen hand towel.

She looked around the kitchen. Seeing the chef busy with the gas range and Emma occupied at the prep station, Brooke slipped smoothly into the narrow hallway that led to the servants' quarters.

Emma didn't move. She waited three seconds, then wiped her hands on her apron and followed quietly, keeping her soft leather work shoes completely silent against the stone floor.

She reached the corner of the hallway and peeked around the frame.

Brooke was standing inside Emma’s small room. The room was simple—a single twin bed with a white quilt, a small desk with a desk lamp, a framed photo of Emma’s mother and brother on the bedside table, and a wooden wardrobe against the wall.

Brooke walked straight to the wardrobe. She reached into her linen hand towel, pulled out a thick, heavy antique diamond necklace—the famous Mercer South Sea Pearl and Diamond Choker that had belonged to Catherine Mercer—and shoved it deep into the back corner of Emma’s top drawer beneath her spare uniforms.

Brooke smiled to herself, a look of triumphant malice flashing across her face.

She smoothed down her powder-blue dress, stepped back out into the hallway, and pulled the door shut until it clicked.

As Brooke turned around to walk back toward the kitchen, she froze.

Emma was standing ten feet away, leaning calmly against the corridor wall with her arms crossed over her chest.

Brooke’s face tightened for a fraction of a second, but she recovered instantly, stepping forward with her chin held high in aristocratic disdain.

“What are you doing skulking around down here, Emma?” Brooke demanded, her tone dripping with fake annoyance. “Don't you have work to do in the dining room?”

“I was just checking to see if you found what you were looking for in my bedroom, Miss Harrington,” Emma said softly.

Brooke’s eyes flashed with sudden, sharp anger. “How dare you insinuate anything! I was looking for the head housekeeper to report your terrible attitude from this morning!”

“The head housekeeper’s office is on the second floor of the main wing,” Emma pointed out neutrally. “This is the staff residential hallway.”

Brooke took a step toward Emma, her blue eyes cold and vicious. “Listen to me very carefully, you little bug. In twenty-four hours, I will be Dominic Mercer’s wife. When I give an order, you obey it. And right now, I am ordering you to pack your cheap little bag and leave this property before I call the police and have you dragged out in handcuffs.”

Emma didn't flinch. She looked Brooke dead in the eye. “Call them.”

Brooke blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Call the police,” Emma repeated quietly. “Tell them you found Catherine Mercer’s diamond necklace in my drawer. Let’s see who they question first when they arrive.”

Brooke let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “You think anyone will take the word of a thirty-dollar-an-hour housemaid over mine? My father is a United States Senator, Emma. I can have you blacklisted from every estate in New England by sunset.”

Brooke reached into her handbag, pulled out her phone, and dialed a three-digit number, placing the phone on speaker mode as she held it up.

“Hello? Newport Police Department?” Brooke spoke into the phone, her voice instantly transforming into that of a panicked, distressed victim. “This is Brooke Harrington calling from the Mercer Estate on Cliff Drive. I need an officer dispatched immediately. We have caught one of our domestic staff stealing irreplaceable family heirlooms from the master safe.”

“We have officers in the area, Miss Harrington,” the dispatcher replied over the speaker. “A unit will be at your location in five minutes.”

“Thank you so much,” Brooke said sweetly, hanging up the call.

She looked at Emma, her face twisted into a triumphant, ugly sneer. “You just ruined your own life, you stupid girl.”

“We’ll see,” Emma said softly.

Brooke turned on her heels and swept back toward the main house to wait for the police in the grand foyer.

Emma waited until Brooke’s footsteps faded away, then pulled her own phone from her apron pocket. She pressed a single button on her speed dial.

“Dominic?” Emma said.

“I watched the entire thing on the camera feed, Emma,” Dominic’s voice came through the receiver, as cold and unyielding as iron. “The police cars entering the gates will be met by my personal security team at the driveway. Step into the main library. It’s time to bring my sister down.”