CHAPTER 2 — The Uniform She Was Never Meant to Wear
The foyer became so quiet that even the ticking of the grandfather clock sounded deafening.
Richard Ashford stood motionless.
One of the wealthiest men in America.
A man who negotiated billion-dollar mergers without blinking.
Yet at that moment, all he could see was his sixteen-year-old daughter.
Emily.
Barefoot.
Her knees red from kneeling on the marble floor.
Wearing a faded maid's uniform that hung loosely from her shoulders.
She stared at him as if she wasn't sure he was real.
"Dad...?"
The word barely escaped her lips.
Richard dropped his briefcase.
It hit the floor with a heavy thud that echoed through the mansion.
His wife, Victoria, immediately stood from her chair, forcing a smile.
"Richard, you're home early."
He didn't answer.
His eyes never left Emily.
Slowly, he walked toward her.
"What happened to your hands?"
Emily instinctively hid them behind her back.
The skin across her fingers was raw and cracked from harsh cleaning chemicals.
"I'm fine," she whispered.
Richard gently took one of her hands anyway.
She flinched.
Not because he hurt her.
Because she had forgotten what it felt like to be touched with kindness.
His jaw tightened.
"Who did this?"
Emily looked toward Victoria.
Only for a second.
But it was enough.
Victoria laughed nervously.
"She's exaggerating."
"I've simply been teaching her responsibility."
Richard turned.
"Responsibility?"
Victoria folded her arms.
"You've spoiled her ever since her mother died."
"She needed discipline."
Richard glanced around the foyer.
Every servant stood frozen.
None of them dared speak.
But none of them looked surprised.
That frightened him more than anything.
Because it meant this wasn't new.
It had become normal.
He looked back at Emily.
"When did this start?"
She hesitated.
Then quietly answered,
"The week after you left for Europe."
His heart sank.
He had been traveling for nearly six months.
May you like
Believing his daughter was safe at home.
She wasn't.
