Chapter 3

The next day, I found more proof of my replacement.

I needed to check his schedule for an upcoming charity gala he' d told me to prepare for. I picked up his phone. The passcode, once my birthday, didn't work.

I tried a few combinations. Nothing.

Then, a sudden, cold thought. I typed in Chloe' s birthday, a date I' d seen on a file on his desk.

The phone unlocked.

My stomach twisted. It was such a small thing, but it felt like a door slamming shut in my face.

I opened his chat list. Pinned to the top, where my name used to be, was Chloe. Her name had a little bird emoji next to it. "My Songbird."

He' d called me that once. After I' d spent a whole night talking him down from a corporate scandal, playing my sax for him until dawn, my music the only thing that could soothe his manufactured rage. He' d called me his songbird then.

Now, the title belonged to someone else. Someone new. Someone "clean."

I felt a wave of nausea.

When he came home that night, I confronted him. I tried to keep my voice steady.

"You changed your passcode."

He didn't even look up from his tablet. "So?"

"It' s Chloe' s birthday."

He finally looked at me, his eyes cold and impatient. "Your point?"

"The gala," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "Am I still your date?"

He let out a short, cruel laugh. "Of course not. Chloe' s going with me. You don' t seriously think I' d take my charity case to the biggest event of the year, do you?"

Charity case.

The words hung in the air between us, ugly and sharp.

"I need you to understand your place, Maya," he continued, his voice dangerously soft. "You' re here for one reason. Don' t forget it."

He turned back to his tablet, dismissing me completely.

I stood there for a long time, the silence of the apartment pressing in on me. My place. He had made it very clear.

I was the help. And the help was about to be replaced.