Billionaire Fiancée Cut the Poor Maid’s Hair to Destroy Her Dignity—Until the East Coast’s Most Feared Mafia King Broke Down the Gates and Demanded Blood

By mid-afternoon, a freezing rain began to batter the coastline.

The Hawthorne mansion sat perched on the rocky bluffs of Long Island, and when the northern winds blew in from the Atlantic, the corridors turned frigid. Nadia moved through the third-floor guest suites, changing the heavy velvet drapes and setting fresh eucalyptus branches in crystal vases.

Her hands were chapped from bleach and cold water. Every muscle in her back ached, but she refused to stop.

She knew that any minor error would give Clarissa the excuse she needed to fire her without severance.

Around four o’clock, Clarissa summoned Nadia to the master bedroom.

The room was vast, dominated by a four-poster canopy bed and a dressing area filled with designer gowns, fur coats, and dozens of luxury skincare jars bearing the Kind Beauty label in gold lettering.

Clarissa sat at her vanity, applying a deep crimson shade of lipstick.

In front of her lay an open velvet jewelry box. Inside rested the Hawthorne family emerald necklace—a historic piece containing five flawless Colombian emeralds surrounded by forty carats of brilliant-cut diamonds. It was valued at over two million dollars.

“Nadia,” Clarissa said without turning around, watching the maid in the gilded mirror.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Take my sapphire evening dress down to the laundry room. It requires hand-steaming. Use the distilled rose water, not tap water. If there is a single water mark on the silk, it comes out of your paycheck.”

“I understand, ma’am.”

Nadia walked over to the dressing stand where the gown hung. As she reached for it, her eyes accidentally caught a stack of documents resting half-open beneath Clarissa’s jewelry case.

The header on the top document read:

CONFIDENTIAL AUDIT: KIND BEAUTY INDUSTRIAL TESTING & MATERIAL HAZARD REPORT.

Beneath that, a bold paragraph caught Nadia’s eye:

...Substandard chemical stabilizers sourced from the old Queens industrial district warehouse (formerly Voskin Textiles). Carcinogenic risk assessment suppressed. Liability transferred to third-party shipping entities.

Nadia froze.

Voskin Textiles.

The old garment factory where her mother had died.

Why did Clarissa’s beauty brand have records connected to the building that burned down ten years ago?

“What are you staring at?” Clarissa’s voice cracked like a whip.

Nadia immediately pulled her eyes away and took the heavy dress into her arms. “Nothing, ma’am. I was just taking the gown.”

Clarissa spun around on her vanity stool, her eyes narrowing into cold slits. She stood up and walked over to Nadia, stopping only inches away. The sickly sweet smell of tuberose perfume was suffocating.

Clarissa’s hand shot out, grabbing Nadia by the chin and forcing her head up. Her long acrylic nails dug into Nadia’s skin.

“You have very curious eyes for a servant,” Clarissa whispered venomously. “Curiosity gets people hurt in this world, Nadia. Especially little girls who have nobody to speak for them.”

“I didn’t look at anything, ma’am,” Nadia said, her voice steady despite the pain in her jaw.

Clarissa held her for three agonizing seconds before releasing her with a shove.

“Get out. And don’t touch anything in this room again.”

Nadia hurried out of the master suite, her mind racing. The connection between the fire that killed her mother and Clarissa’s cosmetic fortune was something she had never imagined. All those years, Theodore believed the fire was an electrical tragedy. But what if it wasn’t? What if the building had been used for something far more sinister?

In the basement laundry room, Nadia steamed the sapphire gown with trembling hands.

As the steam rose around her, the phantom scent of burning wool and melting synthetic fabric filled her nostrils. She clutched her scarred wrist. The skin there burned as if the fire had happened only yesterday.

She pulled out her cheap flip phone and sent a quick text to Mila:

Are you safe at the bakery? Stay inside until I come get you tonight.

A minute later, Mila’s reply arrived with three heart emojis:

Master Baker praised my sourdough today! I saved two warm cinnamon rolls for you. Be careful in the storm, big sister. I love you.