Chapter 4 - Whispers in the Marble Hall
By week three, the estate had transformed.
Under Callum’s strict orders, I was no longer permitted to perform a single housekeeping task. My old red uniform had been thrown away, replaced by soft, comfortable designer maternity clothes delivered straight to my suite by high-end boutiques in downtown Chicago.
Every morning, Mrs. Tierney brought me fresh breakfast trays. Dr. Vance visited twice a week to monitor the baby's progress. And every evening at 7:00 PM, Callum returned from his corporate office to sit with me in the library, drinking tea while I read or listened to classical music.
It was a life I had never dared to dream of.
Yet, dark clouds were gathering on the horizon.
Callum’s sudden, dramatic defense of a former maid had sent shockwaves through Chicago's high society. Rumors spread like wildfire through the elite circles. Some claimed Callum had lost his mind; others whispered that I was a gold-digger who had trapped the city’s most dangerous billionaire with a pregnancy scheme.
The rumors reached a boiling point on a rainy Thursday afternoon.
Victoria Sterling—the cold, beautiful daughter of an influential senator and a woman who had been publicly trying to marry Callum for three years—arrived unannounced at the estate.
I was sitting in the glass sunroom on the main floor, sipping warm chamomille tea and knitting a small wool baby blanket, when the double doors burst open.
Victoria stepped inside, wearing a cream cashmere coat, diamonds glistening at her throat, her sharp heels clicking aggressively against the marble floor. Behind her, Mrs. Tierney looked frantic.
"Miss Sterling, please," Mrs. Tierney pleaded. "Mr. Brennan is in a board meeting downtown. He gave strict orders that Miss Ferris is not to be disturbed—"
"Quiet, Margaret," Victoria snapped coldly, waving her hand dismissively.
Victoria stopped near my wicker chair, looking down at me with an expression of pure, unadulterated disgust. Her eyes dragged over my swelling stomach, my simple wool sweater, and the half-finished baby blanket in my lap.
"So," Victoria sneered, her voice dripping with poison. "You're the little charity case Callum has been hiding in the west wing. The pregnant maid."
I set my knitting needles down, trying to keep my breathing calm as my heart began to race. "Miss Sterling. If you wish to leave a message for Mr. Brennan, Mrs. Tierney can take it."
Victoria laughed—a bitter, hollow sound.
"Don't play the lady of the house with me, girl," Victoria spat, stepping closer, her expensive perfume making my stomach churn. "Do you have any idea what you are doing to Callum’s reputation? He's negotiating a five-billion-dollar merger with my father's firm. And the entire city is laughing behind his back because he brought home a broken, pregnant guttersnipe from Hester Street!"
I flinched, the harsh words stinging like salt in an open wound.
"Callum is doing this out of kindness," I whispered, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. "He's an old friend."
"Friend?" Victoria barked a cruel laugh. "Callum Brennan doesn't have friends, sweetie. He has business associates and enemies. He's pitying you! He feels guilty because he couldn't save you when you were kids! But once that baby is born and his guilty conscience is clear, do you really think a man like Callum is going to keep a maid's bastard in his family line?"
The word bastard hit me like a physical blow.
Before I could answer, a shadow fell over the entrance of the sunroom.
"Finish that sentence, Victoria," a deep, icy voice echoed through the vast glass room. "And I will ruin your father's firm before the sun sets today."
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Victoria froze. Her face paled instantly as she turned around.
Callum stood in the doorway. He had dropped his briefcase on the hall table, his coat damp from the rain outside, his dark eyes blazing with a terrifying, absolute fury.
