The Hostess Ordered the Maid to Remove an Empty Chair — Until the Boss Saw the Deep Red Mark on Her Neck

Mr. Moretti led Madison into his private, soundproof study and clicked the heavy oak doors shut.

The room was dimly lit and smelled of old leather and expensive whiskey. He walked over to his massive mahogany desk, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out a first-aid kit. He grabbed an instant ice pack, cracked it, and gently handed it to the terrified maid.

"Put that on your neck," he commanded softly.

Madison took the ice pack with shaking hands, pressing it against her bruised skin. "Thank you, sir. I'm... I'm so sorry I dropped the chair."

"I don't care about the chair, Madison," Mr. Moretti said, leaning against the edge of his desk. He crossed his arms over his chest, the dark tattoos shifting under his white shirt. "I care about the fact that my sister-in-law thinks I am stupid enough to believe a rusty rake leaves finger marks."

Madison looked down at her black shoes. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

"Look at me," Mr. Moretti said, his voice stripping away all of his intimidating authority, leaving only a man who desperately wanted the truth. "Did Victoria do that to you?"

Madison squeezed her eyes shut. A single tear rolled down her cheek. "If I tell you the truth, sir... she's going to ruin my family. She told me she would have my little brother deported."

Mr. Moretti’s jaw locked. A dangerous, lethal fire ignited in his dark eyes.

"Victoria does not have the power to deport anyone," Mr. Moretti stated firmly. "I am the one with the political connections in this city. Not her. You are completely safe in this room. Tell me exactly what happened in the greenhouse today."

Madison took a shuddering breath, lowering the ice pack.