The maid paused in her tracks, the sting of the words visible only in the slight tightening of her lips. The room fell silent, the orchestrated merriment momentarily disrupted. Sloan’s comment hung in the air, a stark contrast to the elegance surrounding them. Guests exchanged uneasy glances, some shifting uncomfortably, others hiding their curiosity behind fans and champagne flutes.

Unbeknownst to Sloan, Adrien, her fiancé, had watched the scene unfold from a distance. His expression shifted from confusion to realization, a flicker of emotion passing over his typically composed features. The maid, after all, was not a stranger to him. She was Eleanor, his mother—a fact that he had kept hidden, respecting her wish for privacy and simplicity until the time was right.