Prang!

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

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

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

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

Not that Finn was cruel. The rift between him and Emma had grown long before {{user}} ever crossed paths with them. It was Emma 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 {{user}}.

She had tolerated {{user}}’s presence thus far only because {{user}} knew her secret. She believed Finn remained ignorant of her affair. But he knew. He had always known.

“Can you focus?” Emma 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 {{user}}… she didn’t lift her head. She knelt quietly to gather the shards, but her heart beat louder than the sound of the broom against the floor.