Page 25 of The Maid's Secret

“Are you okay?” Juan asks. He’s gripping my hand so tight I can barely feel my fingers.

“I’m okay,” I reply. “You?”

“A reporter came into the kitchen asking weird questions.”

“A bearded man wearing a trench coat?” I ask.

“That’s the one. He wanted to know where Mr.Snow’s office was.”

“Did you tell him?”

“No. I chased him up the stairs and out the revolving doors. But when I came back, all the Bee-lievers and guests in the lobby started clapping—at me! Mr.Snow had to fend them off so I could get back to work. Molly, what’s happening? The goldenhuevohas turned everything upside down.”

“I know,” I say. “It’s been the same for me. But surely everything will go back to normal tomorrow?”

“Of course it will,” says Juan. “And besides, we’ll be rich beyond our wildest dreams!”

“We’re here,” says the driver as he circles to the front door of our decrepit old building.

“What do we owe you?” I ask.

“Taken care of by the hotel manager,” says the driver.

Juan and I thank him, then head inside to our fourth-floor apartment. When the door is locked behind us and our shoes are stowed, I head to our threadbare sofa and collapse. “Home sweet home,” I say.

“I’ve never been more relieved to be here,” Juan adds as he perches beside me. His beautiful chocolate eyes meet mine. “Molly, are you sure you still want to marry me?”

“Why are you asking such a question?”

“It’s just that if you’re rich, you can do what you please, have whoever you want.”

I sit bolt upright and grab Juan’s clammy hand. “I don’t want anyone else. For richer or poorer, right?”

“Yes,” Juan replies. “I’m glad you won’t toss me to the curb. Molly, we’re going to have money for the first time in our lives. I was thinking maybe we can have a bigger wedding instead of just Angela and Mr.Preston at city hall. And maybe we can have a real party afterward, with a catered meal, too? What about a brand-new wedding dress for you? And a diamond ring? It’ll be better than your engagement ring, that’s for sure.”

He points to Gran’s old Claddagh ring on my hand. Try as I might to imagine something better, I can’t. I love this ring with all my heart.

“I don’t want a fancy ring,” I say. “And my only dream, Juan, is not living paycheck to paycheck. Maybe now we can send a bit more money home to your family.”

“You would do that?” Juan asks.

“Of course,” I reply.

Just then, my phone rings. I remove it from my pocket and check the screen—unknown caller.

“Will you take this?” I ask Juan. “I can’t bear to speak to anyone right now.”

“Sure,” he replies as I pass him the phone. “Hello? She’s not available…. Wait, how did you get her number?…She’s not interested. Goodbye.”

Juan puts my phone on the side table. “Weird,” he says. “That was a financial adviser. He got your number from a link on Instagram.

“I’m not on Instagram,” I say.

“Don’t worry. He’s gone now. I hung up on him.”

“I’m exhausted,” I say.

“Molly, rest. I’ll make dinner. It’s Taco Tuesday,mi favorito!”