“Yes, ma’am.”
Ethan closed the tablet, staring at his own reflection in the dark screen, fists clenched until his knuckles turned white.
The next morning, he acted as though nothing had happened. He brought flowers, kissed Clare’s cheek, and pretended he was unaware of everything he had seen.
He kneaded her guard down. When Ruth came to clear the table, Ethan caught her sleeve gently. “Mom, are you happy here?” She hesitated, then nodded too quickly. “You worry too much.” But her voice cracked on the word much. That night, he couldn’t stand still. He walked the terrace, watching city lights blink across the skyline.
Behind him, the apartment was quiet. Too quiet. He opened the footage again. Ruth carrying laundry twice her size. Clare shouting something about doing it right. A slap of fabric hitting tile. Laughter. He pressed pause. His jaw flexed. Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow it ends. He called his assistant and arranged a dinner for the following night.
He said nothing else, only make sure everyone is there. In the background of that call, the faint hum of Ruth’s song floated again through the halls, cracked by exhaustion, yet still gentle, he shut his eyes. He hadn’t heard that melody since he was a child. The next evening, the penthouse glowed under soft lights. The table was set for eight silver cutlery lined in military precision.
Ethan arrived first, calm on the surface, though every nerve burned beneath. Clare appeared radiant in a white gown, pretending warmth. Finally, a proper dinner, she said, brushing his shoulder. You’ve been distant lately. He smiled faintly. Just work. Guest trickled in two partners from his firm. Clare’s friends from the video and Ruth, quiet in a plain gray dress.
Her eyes darted between them, unsure why she was invited to sit. Ethan pulled out her chair. You belong here. His tone made everyone else freeze for half a breath. Dinner began with laughter, forced and sharp. Clare led every joke, all surface charm. Ruth barely touched her plate. When the main course was cleared, Ethan stood and dimmed the lights.
“Before dessert,” he said evenly. “I want to show something.” A projector flickered on. The screen dropped from the ceiling. Confusion rippled around the table. Clare tilted her head, smiling. What’s this, love? footage from last week, he said. Something I found interesting. The first clip rolled Ruth kneeling, scrubbing tiles.
Clare’s voice filled the room. Make sure the floor shines this time. No one laughed. Clare’s fork clattered. Her friends stared at their plates. Ruth’s hands trembled in her lap. Another clip. Crumbs thrown. The bucket kicked over. Wine spilled. Clare’s mocking voice echoed. If Ethan wants her here, she better earn it. Silence deepened.
The only sound was the projector’s hum. Ethan didn’t look away. That’s my mother you’re speaking to. Clare’s face drained. Ethan, I This isn’t what it looks like. He kept his tone steady. It looks exactly like what it is. One partner muttered. Jesus. Under his breath. Another shook his head. Ruth tried to stand. Please stop this, she whispered, tears threatening.
She’ll leave. Don’t ruin your evening. Ethan reached for her hand. She’s already ruined enough. Clare’s friends began collecting their bags. Too ashamed to speak. Clare stammered. They pushed me into it. I didn’t mean. He cut her off. You didn’t need help to show cruelty. The projection froze on an image of Ruth kneeling.
Ethan walked over and switched off the screen. Light returned, but warmth did not. The air carried that strange quiet before a storm breaks. He turned to Ruth. You won’t serve another person in this house again. Clare rose, voice shaking. You can’t do this to me in front of them. He looked at her once. I just did.
No one touched dessert. After the guests left, the penthouse sat heavy with silence. The city glowed outside the glass walls, but inside every sound felt sharp. Clare paced near the bar, her heels clicking like gunfire. “You humiliated me,” she snapped. Do you realize what people will say? Ethan leaned against the table, voice low.
They’ll say, “I finally saw you.” She threw her hands up. “You’re overreacting. She’s not your real mother. She works for you. She should have known her place.” He straightened. The look in his eyes stopped her cold. “My place exists because of her. You think the world handed me power. She built me.” Clare scoffed. “She manipulated you. playing the victim.
So, you’d choose her over me. He took a step closer. Slow, deliberate. She fed me when my birth parents threw me away. She never asked for anything. You, on the other hand, just asked for everything. Claire’s voice wavered. You’re throwing away our future over a maid. No, he said. I’m ending an illusion.
He called security. Take her to collect her things. She leaves tonight. Clare’s mouth fell open. You can’t be serious. He didn’t blink. You stopped being a partner the moment you laid a hand on her. Two guards appeared. Clare tried one last time, tears streaking her makeup. Ethan, please. I can change. He didn’t respond.
The door closed behind her, muffling the echo of her sobs. Ruth stood by the corner, eyes wide, hands twisting the hem of her sleeve. “You shouldn’t have done that for me,” she whispered. “People will think I caused trouble.” Ethan turned, his tone softening. You didn’t cause trouble. You revealed truth. She shook her head, shoulders trembling.
I wanted peace, not this. He walked closer, placed a hand on her shoulder. Peace doesn’t come from silence. For the first time, her tears came freely. You were that little boy who used to promise me the world if I stayed alive one more day. Now you’ve given too much. He smiled faintly. You gave first.
He asked his assistant to reassign every staff member who’d watched and said nothing. By dawn, the house had emptied. New hires arrived with calm faces, respect in their eyes. That morning, gossip spread across the city. The Wallace engagement ended,” someone said at the cafe. “He chose his maid over his fianceé.” Another voice answered, “Not a maid. His mother.
” Back in the penthouse, Ethan brewed tea the way Ruth used to. strong mint-sented steam curling like quiet forgiveness. He brought her a cup. No more uniforms, he said. She looked at the tea, then at him. Then what am I supposed to be now? He smiled. Home. Weeks passed. The city forgot the scandal.
