A Deal With The Billionaire, a secret with his enemy

Trisha lay on her bed, covered in thick duvets.

She felt sick and nauseous, but couldn't decide if it was the pregnancy or the memory of the trembling maid still etched sharply in her thoughts.

Her eyes paced round the room.

And she sighted something out of place.

A note.

Tucked neatly into the upper cabinet above her door.

It hadn't been there before.

Someone had definitely been in her room.

She got up from the bed and reached for it, unfolding it with cautious fingers.

‘He's not who you think he is. Get out; while you still can.’

That was it.

A single line.

No explanation.

Her phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand.

She grabbed it, and a number lit up the screen.

She answered the call, breathing out the word “Hello?”

“Trish! Thank goodness! Where have you been? You've been unreachable for days!” Maya's voice shrieked at the other end.

“Maya!” Trisha beamed. “I'm so sorry, baby. Something came up.”

“You don't need to tell me. I had thought you were dead. Until I saw you on a fucking TV!”

“Maya…”

“Wife of a billionaire heir? Damn, Trisha! How the hell did this happen?”

“It's complicated, Maya. I really can't explain right now… But I promise you, I have everything under control.” Trisha said. Not sure if she was assuring Maya or herself.

“I really hope you do, Trish. I really hope.”

Trisha pressed a hand to her temple, gently massaging it.

“Trish, you still there?” Maya's voice came.

“Yeah, of course.” Trisha answered as she reached for a glass of water.

“The hospital called. They're demanding another deposit.”

Emotion drained from her face as her face paled. “My brother…how's he?”

“They have hope. He'll pull this off, Trish. He's a strong kid. Just like you.” There was a long pause before she spoke again. “Your mama had another seizure… It's getting worse. Without a good lawyer at this point, a conviction is inevitable.”

Trisha let out a deep sigh. “I'm working on it, Maya. I'll send the money soon. Please, look after him.”

“Rest your worries, I've got him.”

“Thank you, Maya.”

“And Trish?”

“Yeah?”

“Does he know?”

Trisha knew what she was asking.

“No.” She stiffly replied.

“This is dangerous, Trish. What if he finds out?”

There was a brief silence before Trisha answered. “He won't.”

~

She casually strolled the unending hallway of the mansion.

The heavy steps of the maids distracting her thoughts as their gazes flicked towards her with careful restraint.

She pressed a hand to her stomach.

It had twisted again—sharp and painful.

Not now. Please, not now.

A loud voice suddenly broke her thoughts.

She stopped, and pinned her ear closer.

“File for a divorce,” It was Victor’s. His voice was cold and hoarse. “End this sham of a marriage before I end it myself!”

“That isn't your decision to make, Father!” Lucian's voice came roaring back.

“You think I don't know? That walking sob story you married. It's utterly embarrassing! What would people think of my legacy?

Trisha's hands clutched the wall. Her pulse pounded, and her chest ached.

“You have brought enough insult to us, Lucian.” He moved closer to him. “Elena is everything she's not and more. I trust you'll make the right decision.”

There it was.

That name again.

Trisha heard Victor walk away, and she did the same, backing away slowly.

A dull ache still lingering in her chest.

~

The yard was quiet .

The family had earlier left for a corporate meeting at the company.

‘It's a matter of urgency.’ Lucian had tagged it.

She sat by the edge of a fountain, letting the cool breeze caress her skin.

She scanned the yard; a habit she had subconsciously developed since the camera incident.

She could sense something odd.

A shift in the air. A strange stillness.

Too still. Too silent.

A maid's voice cut through her thoughts. “Do you need any help, ma'am?”

Trisha looked up at her.

Light-skinned. Medium height. Mid teen.

She was smiling brightly, revealing a set of flawless teeth.

“No, I'm good, thanks.” Trisha replied, managing a weak smile.

“Okay, ma'am,” the maid said, turning as if to leave.

She quickly said again, “If you don't mind, ma'am, can I see your book, please?” The maid said, referring to a book at Trisha's side.

Trisha had earlier taken it from the library to read.

“Sure,” Trisha replied, handing her the book.

The maiden's face lit up as she glanced through it.

“You can sit too.” Trisha added, her smile growing warm.

The maid gave Trisha a lingering look, as if trying to decide whether she truly meant it.

“It's okay, trust me.” Trisha assured her.

“This isn't allowed, but if you insist ma'am.” The maid said. Leaving a careful distance as she took a seat across from Trisha.

Trisha noticed the gleam in her eyes as she flipped through the pages of the book.

“A fan of Malone?” Trisha asked

“I'm not sure who that is, ma'am; I don't really know any famous authors. But I know a good book when I see one.”

Trisha gave a slow, understanding nod.

“How did you end up a maid here?” Trisha asked again.

“I was a cleaner in a local salon Madame Lora frequents, her friend's. I was barely earning enough. She picked me up and brought me here. Gave me a whole new life. I'll never forget that.”

Trisha gave her a long look.

She probably didn't know her savior was a bloody killer.

“Do you have any family?”

“A brother. He's fourteen,” the maid replied.

‘I have a brother that age too,” Trisha wanted to say, but quickly dismissed it.

The maid closed the book, giving it back to Trisha as she got up to leave.

“Keep it,” Trisha said almost immediately.

The maid's eyes widened.

“I really can't, ma'am.”

“What's your name?” Trisha asked

“Sarah,” the maid replied.

“Keep the book, Sarah. Consider it a token of appreciation for your company.”

The maid smiled, “Thank you, ma'am.”

“It's Trisha.”

The maid gave a small nod and made to get up but suddenly stopped.

She looked ahead of them, and her face went pale.

Before Trisha could process what was happening, she was on the ground, with the maid on top of her.

Something small and swift whizzed past them, and she heard the shattering of glass in the distance.

A gunshot!

Another shot whizzed past, shattering the glass fountain inches from her.

Tricklets of liquid suddenly drop on her face.

She touched it, and it was sticky.

She tried tracing where it came from before she saw the large cut on the maid's arm, who was still lying on top of her.

The security alarm blared violently in the distance, splitting the air like a siren.

She heard running sounds as some bodyguards rushed to them and lifted the maid from her.

She was still unconscious and bleeding profusely.

Trisha turned sharply, eyes narrowing at the spot the shot had ripped through.

She saw a figure move, swift and sharp, like a shadow slipping away.

She looked back at the broken glass fountain the bullet had hit.

It was just beside her head. Missed her by inches.

The truth hit her like a crashing wave.

She had just been shot at.

Right in the Cross fortified mansion!

Blood suddenly rushed to her ears, and her vision dimmed as the world around her spun.

The last thing she saw was the buzzing of her phone, with a chilling message that made her breath hitch..

‘He couldn't protect the first. He can't protect you.”