The Millionaire’s Bride Mocked a Poor Maid—She Never Expected What Happened Next
Chapter 1
What could possibly make a bride abandon her wedding breakfast in front of a hundred guests?
The question began with a laugh.
It was a sharp, careless laugh that carried across the grand dining hall of Hawthorne Manor while servants stood silently along the walls.
Miss Beatrice Ashford, newly married to the wealthiest merchant in the county, had just noticed a young maid standing near the silver service.
The girl’s dress was plain.
Her sleeves were patched.
Her shoes had been repaired so many times that the leather no longer matched.
Beatrice slowly lifted her cup and looked the girl over.
“You,” she said.
The maid froze.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Come here.”
The girl approached with her eyes lowered.
Beatrice smiled.
“My husband has spent a fortune furnishing this house, and yet somehow we still have servants who look as though they slept in a stable.”
A few guests laughed.
The maid’s cheeks reddened.
Her name was Anna Reed.
She had been working at Hawthorne Manor for almost two years, long before Beatrice had ever stepped through its gates.
“I am sorry, ma’am,” Anna whispered.
“Sorry?” Beatrice repeated.
She glanced at the pearl necklace around her own throat.
“No. You should be embarrassed.”
Anna said nothing.
Then Beatrice pointed toward the dining table.
“Take that silver tray away. I don’t want you near me again.”
Anna reached for the tray.
Her fingers trembled.
One of the older servants watched her sympathetically, but no one dared intervene.
Beatrice leaned back.
“Perhaps tomorrow I’ll ask my husband to replace half the servants. A house like this should have people who look worthy of serving in it.”
Anna carried the tray away.
But before she disappeared through the kitchen door, she heard someone behind her whisper:
“That girl has no idea who she just insulted.”
Anna stopped.
She turned.
The elderly housekeeper, Mrs. Whitmore, was staring at Beatrice with an expression Anna had never seen before.
Not fear.
Something closer to pity.
Anna quietly entered the kitchen.
She placed the tray on the table and tried to steady her breathing.
She had endured insults before.
She had learned not to answer them.
But that morning was different.
Because the wedding guests were still laughing.
And somewhere inside the manor, a sealed letter bearing a black wax crest had just been discovered.
A crest that belonged to Anna’s dead father.
