The Alcott residence was less of a house and more of a fortress disguised as a French chateau. It sat on five acres of manicured lawn that looked like it had been cut with nail scissors.
Maya wasn't supposed to be there.
She was "working." Sienna had dragged her along under the pretense that she needed help with her hair for the pre-Gala dinner, but once they arrived, Sienna had vanished into a bedroom with Roman, leaving Maya standing in the hallway holding a curling iron like a weapon.
"You look lost," a voice said.
Maya turned. Kai was standing at the top of the grand staircase. He was wearing a tuxedo, but the bow tie was undone, hanging loose around his neck. He looked like the cover of a magazine—if the magazine was about rich boys having existential crises.
"I'm looking for the exit," Maya said. "Sienna abandoned me for a make-out session."
Kai chuckled, descending the stairs. "Sounds like her. Come on. I'm hiding too."
"Hiding from who?"
"My parents. Elara. The inescapable weight of my destiny. Take your pick." He reached the bottom step and gestured down the hall. "There's an open bar in the library."
Maya hesitated. "I really shouldn't. I'm wearing jeans, Kai. There are waiters here dressed better than me."
"Then we'll go to the kitchen. The staff entrance is that way anyway." He winked. "Come on. I'll make you a grilled cheese."
Against her better judgment, Maya followed him.
The kitchen was massive, gleaming with stainless steel. It was currently empty, the catering staff busy setting up in the dining room. Kai raided the fridge like a teenager, pulling out cheese, bread, and butter.
"You cook?" Maya asked, leaning against the counter.
"I assemble," Kai corrected, placing a pan on the stove. "It's a vital life skill. My mother thinks the food appears by magic."
He worked in silence for a moment, the butter sizzling in the pan. It was domestic. Quiet. For a second, looking at him in his half-undone tuxedo flipping a sandwich, Maya could almost imagine a different life. One where this wasn't stealing a moment, but just... Tuesday.
"So," Kai said, not looking up from the stove. "Are you coming to the Gala?"
"Sienna bought me a dress," Maya said. "It cost more than my kidney."
"Good. You'll outshine everyone." He flipped the sandwich onto a plate and slid it across the counter to her. "Eat. You look like you haven't eaten since lunch yesterday."
Maya took a bite. It was perfectly crispy. "Thanks."
The door swung open.
The air in the room evaporated instantly.
Elara Vance stood in the doorway. She was wearing a floor-length emerald gown that hugged every curve. She looked flawless. And she looked furious.
"Kai," she said. Her voice was ice water.
Kai froze. He set the spatula down. "Elara. I was just—"
"Making a sandwich," Elara finished, her eyes flicking to Maya, then to the plate. "How quaint."
She walked into the room, her heels clicking on the tile. She didn't look at Maya. She walked straight to Kai and reached out, fixing his bow tie. Her movements were possessive, sharp tugs that jerked his head slightly.
"Your mother is looking for you," she said, smoothing his lapels. "The guests are arriving. And you are in here playing housemaid."
"I was hungry," Kai muttered, looking at the floor.
"Then ask a servant to feed you," Elara snapped. She finally turned to Maya. Her expression wasn't angry; it was bored. "You can leave now. The back door is by the pantry. Try not to set off the alarm on your way out."
Maya put the sandwich down. The bread turned to ash in her mouth.
She looked at Kai. She waited for him to say something. To say *"She's my friend"* or *"Don't talk to her like that."* Or even just *"Stay."*
Kai looked at Maya. His eyes were wide, panicked. He looked back at Elara, then at the door.
He didn't say a word.
Maya felt something cold settle in her chest.
"Enjoy your dinner," Maya said quietly.
She grabbed her bag and walked toward the pantry door.
"Maya, wait," Kai started, taking a half-step forward.
"Kai!" Elara barked. "Your father is waiting."
Kai stopped. He watched Maya push open the heavy service door and step out into the dark garden.
The door clicked shut.
Elara sighed, brushing imaginary lint off Kai's shoulder. "Honestly, darling. You really need to stop picking up strays. It's embarrassing."
Kai stared at the closed door. He touched the spot on the counter where Maya's plate sat, half-eaten.
"Yeah," Kai whispered, his voice hollow. "Embarrassing."
He let Elara take his arm and lead him out of the kitchen, back to the lights and the music and the cage he had helped build.
Outside, in the cool night air, Maya walked down the long driveway. She didn't look back at the mansion glowing like a lantern on the hill. She just kept walking, one foot in front of the other, listening to the gravel crunch under her sneakers.
She didn't cry. She was done crying over Kai Alcott.
He had made his choice.
Now, she would make hers.
Maya didn't stop to zip her jacket. She walked fast, her sneakers crunching on the gravel path that wound around the side of the massive estate. The Alcott mansion glowed like a lantern on the hill, every window blazing with golden light, casting long shadows across the manicured lawn. Inside, waiters were pouring champagne and Kai was likely having his tie fixed again by Elara, smiling for the cameras.
Maya reached the service gate at the bottom of the hill. She punched in the code—she knew it by heart from the three summers she'd worked catering gigs here—and slipped out onto the public road.
The walk to the Sterling Estate took twenty minutes. By the time she reached the rear entrance, the rain had started—a cold, miserable drizzle that soaked through her thin jacket instantly.
The Sterling Estate was different from the Alcotts'. It was older, darker. The stone walls were higher, topped with iron spikes that looked more medieval than decorative. While the main house loomed in the distance, a dark shadow against the sky, Maya turned left, heading toward the small stone cottage nestled near the treeline.
The Quarters.
It sounded almost quaint, but Maya knew better. It was a glorified gatehouse. The windows were drafty, the plumbing groaned, and it always smelled faintly of damp wool.
She unlocked the door and stepped inside.
"Mom?" she called out, shaking the rain from her hair.
The small living room was tidy to the point of obsession. Doilies on the worn armchairs, a bowl of potpourri trying to mask the musty smell, and photos of Maya framed on every surface. It was a shrine to "normalcy," constructed by a woman desperate to prove she hadn't fallen as far as she had.
"In the kitchen, baby!" Her mother's voice was cheerful, too cheerful.
Maya walked into the kitchenette. Elena Lopez was standing at the stove, stirring a pot of soup. She was wearing her uniform—the grey dress with the white collar that the Sterling staff wore—but she had added a colorful silk scarf around her neck, a small act of rebellion.
"You're wet," Elena tsked, turning around. She was beautiful, in a faded way. She had Maya's dark eyes and high cheekbones, but her face was lined with a perpetual exhaustion that no amount of makeup could hide. "I made chicken soup. Your favorite."
"Thanks," Maya said, sinking onto one of the two mismatched chairs at the small table. She felt the exhaustion settle into her bones. "I just... I'm not hungry. I ate at the Alcotts'."
"Oh?" Elena's eyes lit up. She abandoned the soup, leaning against the counter. "Did you see Mrs. Alcott? Did she mention the flower arrangements for the Spring Fete? I told the florist to use peonies, but she can be so particular."
Maya looked at her mother. Elena spoke about the rich families as if she were one of them, as if her opinion on peonies mattered. It was a coping mechanism Maya had learned to hate.
"I didn't see Mrs. Alcott, Mom. I saw Kai. And then Elara Vance kicked me out of the kitchen."
Elena's smile faltered. She smoothed her apron. "Well, Elara is... high-spirited. She's under a lot of pressure."
"She's a bitch, Mom," Maya corrected flatly. "And she treated me like I was there to steal the silverware."
"Maya," Elena warned, her voice dropping. "Language. You have to understand, these people... they live by different rules. We are guests in their world. We have to be grateful."
"I am not a guest," Maya snapped. "I'm an employee. And you're an employee. We scrub their floors and cook their food. There's nothing to be grateful for."
Elena turned back to the stove, her shoulders stiff. "This job paid for your braces. It pays for your books. It keeps us warm."
"It keeps us owned," Maya muttered.
She looked at her mother's back. She noticed the slight tremble in Elena's hand as she stirred the soup.
"Mom," Maya said, softening her tone. "Are you okay? You look pale."
"I'm fine. Just tired. The Senator... he has been demanding lately. The Gala prep is chaotic."
Maya went still. "The Senator? I thought he was in D.C. this week."
"He came back early," Elena said quickly. Too quickly. "To oversee the final details. He stopped by this afternoon to check the inventory lists."
"Here?" Maya asked, glancing around the small room. "He came here?"
"Yes, Maya. It's his property. He can go where he likes." Elena sounded defensive now. She turned around, plastering a smile back on her face. "Enough about work. Tell me about school. How is Bio? Did you get that paper back?"
Maya stared at her mother. She noticed the new bracelet on Elena's wrist—a delicate gold chain that definitely didn't come from a thrift store. She noticed the way Elena kept touching her neck, adjusting the silk scarf.
A sick feeling curled in Maya's stomach.
"Mom," Maya whispered, pointing at the scarf. "What is that?"
Elena's hand flew to her throat. "What? It's just a scarf. I found it in the lost and found box. No one claimed it."
"It's Hermès," Maya said. She knew the pattern. Sienna had one just like it. "Mom. Please tell me you didn't steal it."
"I didn't steal it!" Elena cried, tears springing to her eyes instantly. "He gave it to me! Okay? He was being kind."
"The Senator?" Maya stood up. The chair scraped loudly against the linoleum. "Mom, take it off."
"No!" Elena stepped back, clutching the silk. "It's a gift. Why can't I have nice things, Maya? Why do I always have to look like the help?"
"Because he doesn't give gifts for free!" Maya shouted. "He buys people. Look at Sienna. Look at everyone around him. If he gave you that, he wants something. What does he want?"
"Mom," Maya said, her voice shaking.
Elena didn't answer. She turned back to the soup, stirring frantically, the metal spoon clanging against the pot.
"The soup is ready," Elena choked out. "Sit down, Maya. Eat."
Maya stood there for a long moment. The silence in the kitchen was deafening, filled only by the sound of the rain drumming on the tin roof and her mother's weeping.