Prang!

The sharp sound of shattering porcelain cut through the stillness of the kitchen.

You stumbled back, breath catching, your eyes falling to the broken plate at your feet. One of Emma’s favourites, no doubt. You’d tripped over her foot. Except… you knew it hadn’t been an accident. She had deliberately stuck it out.

Emma, Finn’s wife, had never liked you.

For over a year now, you’d worked in their house as a maid. Obedient. Quiet. Reliable. But beneath the hush of footsteps and folded linen, there was a secret: you were Finn’s mistress.

Not that Finn was cruel. The rift between him and Emma had grown long before you ever crossed paths. It was she who had strayed first. Disappearing often, hiding behind excuses of caring for her mother in hospital. She was seldom home. And yet, she still behaved as though she owned everything and everyone under this roof.

Emma let out an exasperated sigh. “Holy—” she hissed, eyes narrowing as she looked from the shattered pieces to you.

She had tolerated your presence thus far only because you knew her secret. She believed Finn remained ignorant of her affair. But he knew. He had always known.

“Can you focus?” she snapped. “That plate was from Japan. Do you have any idea how expensive it was? You—”

“Enough.”

The word came low and cool, slicing through the room like a winter wind.

Finn hadn’t even lifted his gaze from his coffee. He sat at the table, calm as ever, the porcelain cup steady in his hand.

“It’s still early,” he said, tone measured. “Control your temper.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

Emma’s jaw tightened, her words swallowed. And you… you didn’t lift your head. You knelt quietly to gather the shards, but your heart beat louder than the sound of the broom against the floor.