Die Braut des Milliardärs stieß seine Mutter vom Dach – dann tat das Dienstmädchen das Undenkbare

“Nathaniel,” Eleanor warned, tapping the side of the mattress. “Stop terrifying the girl with your acquisitions. Rose, dear, listen to me.”

Rose turned back to the matriarch.

“I am returning to the Callaway estate in Greenwich tomorrow morning,” Eleanor said, her voice dropping into a tone that brooked no argument. “I will not set foot in the city penthouse again until every trace of that blonde monster is burned out of it. But I am an old woman who was nearly murdered, and my nerves are shattered. I require a personal assistant. Someone who lives on the property, handles my personal schedule, oversees my domestic staff, and—most importantly—someone whose loyalty cannot be purchased by the Sterling family.”

Rose’s heart began to hammer against her bruised ribs. “Mrs. Callaway, I’m flattered, truly. But I don’t know anything about high society or estate management. I grew up in Queens. I fold napkins and run food.”

“You have spine,” Eleanor countered fiercely. “You have integrity. In my world, those two things are rarer than pink diamonds. I can hire five hundred Harvard graduates to manage my investments. I cannot hire a single one who would bleed through their palms to save my life.”

Eleanor leaned forward, her eyes fixing onto Rose’s.

“One hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year to start,” Eleanor stated. “A private cottage on the Greenwich estate grounds for you and your sister. Maya will have full access to the pediatric pulmonology specialists at Columbia Presbyterian, all expenses paid by the Callaway medical trust. And you will answer to no one on this earth except me.”

Rose stood frozen. The air in the room suddenly felt thin again, just like it had on the eighty-second floor.

One hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

A home with grass for Maya. No more peeling paint, no more water leaks from the upstairs apartment, no more counting pennies at the pharmacy counter to see if she could afford both the steroid inhaler and the antibiotics in the same week.

It was everything she had prayed for since their parents died in a car wreck four years ago.

“And my role?” Rose asked, her voice shaking slightly. “What exactly do you expect from me?”

Eleanor’s lips curved into a cold, predatory smile that proved exactly where Nathaniel had inherited his lethal edge.

“I expect you to help my son and me dismantle the Sterling family piece by piece,” Eleanor said softly. “Because Victoria didn’t try to kill me for fun, Rose. She tried to kill me because she discovered what was in that audit.”

Nathaniel stepped closer, his gaze locking onto Rose with an intensity that made the small hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Do we have a deal, Rose Vance?” Nathaniel asked, extending his large, unbandaged hand.

Rose looked at his hand, then down at her own bandaged ones. She lifted her right palm, letting his long, calloused fingers close gently over her white gauze.

“We have a deal,” she said.