Chapter 4

The tranquility of the Veil Estate was shattered the next morning by a roar of fury that echoed through the marble halls.

"Why is the lock on my study changed? Open this door right now!"

I walked to the top of the grand staircase, sipping my morning espresso. Below, Sebastian was frantically jamming his "master key" into the electronic lock of the main study. The security light flashed a harsh red, over and over, mocking him. He was trapped outside the very office he used to rule my empire from.

The old butler stood at the bottom of the stairs. His posture, usually so subservient to Sebastian, was now rigid and cold.

"Apologies, Mr. Hart," the butler said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "As of midnight, the security system underwent an authorization upgrade. Per the true owner of the estate, your access has been entirely revoked."

"Are you insane?" Sebastian spun around, his face dark with rage. He saw me on the stairs and marched forward, pointing an accusing finger. "Clara! What the hell is this? Do you have any idea what you’re doing? This is where we’re preparing for our wedding!"

I slowly descended the stairs. I wasn't wearing the plain sweaters I usually wore to cook his daughter's breakfasts. I was wearing a tailored silk suit—the armor of a CEO.

I didn't even look at him. I simply gestured to the head maid. "Cancel the transportation schedule. Remove his name and Celeste's name from the garage access list. If they want to leave, they can walk."

Sebastian’s jaw dropped. He tried to use his height to intimidate me, exactly like he had done for the past eight years.

I finally stopped and looked at him, my gaze freezing over.

"This is the Veil Estate, Sebastian," I said softly, my voice slicing through his bravado. "It is a place you are generously 'staying' in. It is not your personal property."

At that moment, the heavy front doors swung open. Julian walked in, flanked by two top-tier estate lawyers holding the original, gold-stamped deed to the property.

Julian bypassed Sebastian completely, his voice razor-sharp: "As the newly appointed Archive Supervisor, I’m here to remind you of the law, Sebastian. Per the revocation notice, you have no authority to touch a single blade of grass on this estate—not even the dining table you’re leaning against."

Sebastian’s face turned an ugly shade of ashen gray.

He looked at the deed. He looked at Julian. Then he looked at the servants, who once fawned over him as the patriarch of the house, now stepping aside and lowering their heads to me. In the span of one night, he had been reduced to an awkward, pathetic squatter.

But a parasite doesn't let go so easily.

Trying to claw back a shred of his shattered dignity, his shock morphed into a vicious, cornered sneer. He stiffened his neck and hissed, "Do you think changing a lock will make me leave? As long as Lily is here calling Celeste 'Mommy', and the media is in the palm of my hand, your little power play just makes you look like a jealous lunatic."

He pulled out his phone. By noon, his PR machine had gone into overdrive. A breaking news headline flooded every major outlet in the city:

"Delusional Housekeeper Strikes Back: Clara Veil suffers severe psychological breakdown, locking Hart family out of rooms due to obsessive unrequited love."

He went on national television, playing the exhausted, merciful employer. "Clara has been a friend and a helper, but living in our house for so long has caused a distortion in her reality," he lied flawlessly to the cameras. "She actually believes she is my partner."

He wanted to frame me as a deranged, love-struck maid to dismiss my revocation of his power as a pathetic tantrum. The internet exploded, calling me a psycho stalker who needed to be institutionalized.

I sat in my newly reclaimed study, reading the vicious comments.

I didn't panic. I just shook my head slightly.

Sebastian, you think public opinion can kill?

You have no idea that when you truly lose control of the money and the power, you’ll find out just how painful it is to bleed to death.