Chapter 978

She could vaguely sense that Layne was starting to doubt her, and that Mrs. Shannon had been planted specifically to keep an eye on her.

"Mrs. Shannon is one of our most trusted housekeepers. She's been with the Everhart family for decades. If my parents hadn't passed away, she would have stayed at the main estate permanently. Honestly, making her look after me at the penthouse was beneath her. Thankfully, this little fire gave us the push we needed to move back home."

The color drained from Maeve's face, her expression twisting into something deeply unpleasant. Damn it. She had completely shot herself in the foot.

The car pulled through the grand iron gates of the estate. Maeve took in her surroundings. The sprawling lawns, meticulously pruned gardens, and elegant courtyards made it look like a tranquil retirement resort. Surrounded by lush, forested hills, the villa was a secluded paradise of fresh air.

In all honesty, Maeve loved the property itself. But it was a dreadful thirty-minute drive from the Sterling estate, and isolated entirely from the city center.

She was burning with anxiety. She desperately needed to uncover the truth about Quinton and Delilah.

If all her suffering and scheming ended with her losing Quinton, then what was the point of winning her freedom?

"Welcome home, Mr. Everhart. Welcome, Ms. Sterling."

Mrs. Shannon was already waiting at the grand entrance. Flanking the stone pathway were two neat rows of uniformed maids and staff. The moment Layne and Maeve stepped out of the car, they bowed in perfect unison, their voices echoing loudly across the courtyard.

Maeve flinched violently, practically burying her face into Layne's chest. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her.

"What's wrong?"

Maeve's face was deathly pale, her lips trembling uncontrollably.

"N-nothing. I think my blood sugar just dropped. I just need to lie down upstairs for a bit."

The grandiose, militaristic greeting

terrified her to her core. It was the exact same protocol Alastair enforced back home. The Sterling estate was swarming with servants, bodyguards, and groundskeepers. Every time a family member walked past, the staff was required to stop and bow deeply. It was an

unbreakable rule.

But in that house, Maeve was the despised, unwanted daughter. Whenever she saw

the staff, a visceral wave of disgust and sheer terror washed over her.

They were constantly snitching on her. Every time they reported her slightest misstep, Alastair would dracher into the dark room and beat her mercilessly with a riding crop.

Layne could clearly feel the violent tremors wracking Maeve's body. She was genuinely terrified, but he had no idea what had triggered it.

"Maeve, are you okay?"

He practically carried her upstairs to the master bedroom. Moments later, Mrs. Shannon brought up a pot of freshly brewed tea.

She cast a cool glance at Maeve. "Some hot tea to settle your nerves, Ms. Sterling."

Layne remained utterly confused. He had never seen her have a reaction like this.

Maeve's hands shook so violently she couldn't hold the porcelain cup. Gently, Layne took it from her hands and tipped it to her lips himself.

"What exactly happened down there?"

He replayed the moment in his head. The panic attack hit the second the servants bowed to greet her.

Maeve stared blankly at him, her eyes completely devoid of their usual calculated warmth. This was no performance.

"When I lived with the Sterling family, the servants watched my every move. They waited for me to make a mistake, just so they could report it to my father. When he came home, he would drag me into a windowless overnight. Or

room and lock

and lock me

he'd take a whip to my back. That's

why... I can't stand servants."