The sound of the suitcase skidding across the floor echoed like a gunshot in the silent foyer. Maria trembled, trying to soothe little Leo, whose tears were soaking her uniform shoulder. “Please, Madam,” Maria pleaded, clutching the boy tighter, “He’s just scared of the thunder.”
“I don’t care! You’re fired for incompetence!” Mrs. Vanderbilt yelled, looming over the kneeling woman. “Get out of my house before I call the police for trespassing! And put my son down!”
“Actually, Cassandra,” a deep voice boomed from the archway, “the only person leaving this house today is you.”
Mr. Vanderbilt stood there, his face a mask of pure fury, holding up his tablet. On the screen was a live feed from the living room “nanny cam”—a camera Cassandra herself had insisted on installing to spy on Maria.
Cassandra paled, her arrogance vanishing instantly. “Richard, honey, I was just disciplining the help…”
“I’ve watched for twenty minutes,” he spat, walking past her to take Leo gently from Maria’s arms. “I watched you ignore our son while you took selfies. I watched Maria comfort him when you wouldn’t. You’re unfit to be a mother, and you’re certainly unfit to be my wife.” He turned to the nanny. “Maria, you just got a raise. Cassandra, pack your bags. My lawyer will call you in the morning.”
