The woman in the cream suit had thrown the drink without hesitation.
It hit the maid square in the face. The glass shattered against the marble floor, sending shards and yellow liquid everywhere.
The maid — Elena — stood completely still for one second, juice dripping from her chin onto her white apron. Then her knees gave out.
She dropped to the floor, one hand instinctively covering her stomach.
The woman crossed her legs and spoke like she was ordering room service.
“Go make another one.”
Elena’s voice came out broken. “It’s not what it looks like…”
The woman’s laugh was sharp. “Really? Because it looks exactly like what I think it is.”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Alexander — the woman’s stepson — appeared in the doorway. He took one look at the scene and froze.
Elena lifted her head. Her face was streaked with tears and juice. She looked directly at him.
“Sir… the baby.”
The words landed like a second glass breaking.
Alexander’s face went white. He stepped forward, past his stepmother, and knelt in front of Elena without caring about the shards on the floor.
He reached out, then stopped, hands hovering near her shoulders.
“Elena… is it true?”
She nodded, crying harder now. “I was going to tell you tonight. I swear. I didn’t want her to find out like this.”
The woman in white stood up slowly, her face drained of color.
Alexander didn’t look at her. His eyes stayed on Elena.
“You’re done cleaning,” he said quietly. “You’re done with all of it. From this moment on, you don’t work in this house. You live in it.”
He stood up and finally turned to his stepmother.
“If you ever throw anything at her again, I will make sure you never set foot in this house for the rest of your life.”
Some moments don’t need shouting. They just need the truth to finally stand up.