Fiancé Chose the Maid Over Me

The Hart mansion had always felt like a fortress to me—imposing, elegant, and filled with secrets I could never quite grasp. But today, as I watched the new household staff member being introduced, something felt different. A chill crept up my spine that had nothing to do with the mansion's drafty hallways.

"Everyone, this is Rosa Jimenez," Marcus Thompson announced, his voice echoing through the grand foyer. "She'll be joining our household staff effective immediately."

I studied her carefully. Rosa was petite with delicate features and wide, innocent eyes that seemed to take in everything around her. She looked harmless enough—perhaps even fragile. Yet something about her made me uneasy.

"Welcome to the Hart estate," I said, extending my hand with a smile that felt forced even to my own lips.

Rosa's gaze met mine for just a moment before dropping submissively. "Thank you, Miss Reed. I'm honored to serve such a distinguished family."

The way she emphasized "distinguished" sent an odd shiver through me. There was something calculated in her tone, though I couldn't put my finger on it.

Throughout the day, I noticed Rosa observing everything—the way Lorenzo and I interacted, the family dynamics during meals, even the subtle glances between Lorenzo and his father. She was like a silent observer, cataloging every detail.

"She's very... attentive," I commented to Lorenzo later that evening.

He barely looked up from his paperwork. "That's what we pay household staff for, isn't it?"

But there was something more to Rosa's attention. I caught her watching Lorenzo with particular interest when he spoke about his mother's death—a subject that always made him tense. The way she tilted her head, the slight narrowing of her eyes... it wasn't just curiosity. It was calculation.

---

Three weeks later, during a formal dinner with Lorenzo's extended family, Rosa served the main course with trembling hands. I noticed her unusual pallor and the way she kept glancing at Lorenzo.

"Is everything alright?" I asked her quietly.

Before she could answer, her body went rigid. Her eyes rolled back, showing only whites, and she began to tremble violently.

"Rosa!" Marcus exclaimed, rising from his seat.

Lorenzo was faster. He rushed to her side, catching her before she hit the floor. "Someone call a doctor!"

Rosa's convulsions intensified. Suddenly, she lurched forward with surprising strength, her arm swinging wildly. Her fist connected with my cheekbone with shocking force.

Pain exploded across my face as I stumbled backward. The room erupted in chaos—glasses shattered, chairs scraped against hardwood, voices called out in alarm.

When the commotion subsided, Rosa lay curled in Lorenzo's arms, whimpering like a frightened animal. My cheek throbbed where she'd struck me, already beginning to bruise.

"I think she's having some kind of breakdown," Lorenzo said, his voice tight with concern.

I touched my tender cheekbone, wincing. "Lorenzo, did you see how suddenly it happened? How her eyes—"

"Alexandra," he cut me off sharply, "she's clearly unwell. This isn't the time for accusations."

The way he held Rosa—protectively, almost tenderly—made my stomach twist. "I'm just saying it seemed... deliberate."

His expression hardened. "Mental illness isn't deliberate. It's serious, and it deserves compassion, not suspicion."

---

The second incident came a week later. I was in the library reviewing wedding plans when Rosa appeared with a steaming cup of tea.

"Miss Reed," she said in a soft, childlike voice that seemed oddly disconnected from her usual manner. "I made this special tea for you. It has honey and... other good things."

There was something strange about her demeanor—an exaggerated innocence that didn't quite match her eyes. But I accepted the cup with a polite smile.

"Thank you, Rosa."

The tea tasted unusual—slightly bitter beneath the sweetness. Within minutes, my throat began to tighten. Panic surged through me as I realized what was happening.

"Nuts," I gasped, clutching at my throat. "Are there nuts in this?"

Rosa's expression crumpled into distress. "Oh! I forgot! You're allergic!"

My emergency EpiPen was in my purse across the room. The room began to spin as my airway constricted. I collapsed to my knees, desperately trying to breathe.

Lorenzo found me there minutes later, my face flushed and swollen from the allergic reaction. He rushed to my side, but his first words weren't for me.

"Rosa, what happened?" he demanded.

Rosa sobbed into her hands. "I made tea with nuts by mistake! I feel terrible!"

"You know I'm allergic," I wheezed, struggling to speak through the tightening in my chest.

Lorenzo's expression was torn between concern for me and distress for Rosa. "It was clearly an accident," he said, helping me to my feet. "Rosa would never hurt you deliberately."

As he comforted Rosa, who was now weeping dramatically, I caught a glimpse of something in her eyes—something that looked remarkably like satisfaction.

The ambulance arrived just as my vision began to blur. The last thing I saw before the paramedics loaded me in was Lorenzo's arm around Rosa's shoulders, his face etched with worry—not for me, but for her.