The Housekeeper Who Tried to Marry Me Off

I was buried in work at my desk when a shadow fell over me. Violet Lawrence, my new housekeeper, loomed uncomfortably close.

Zoey, look at you, she clucked. All day long, you're either glued to that phone or playing on the computer. Your room is a pigsty. If you have time to sit around, you should be cleaning.

My fingers froze over the keyboard. I turned to look at her, incredulous.

"Isn't that exactly what I hired you to do?" I asked, my voice cool. "If I have to clean my own room, why am I paying you?"

Violet pursed her lips, adopting a look of martyred patience. "I'm only saying this for your own good. No matter how rich a woman is, she still has to get married eventually."

She shook her head disapprovingly. "Look at youlazy. You can't cook, you can't do laundry. How will your future in-laws ever respect you? Just listen to me. I wouldn't steer you wrong..."

I raised a hand, cutting her off.

"Even if I get married, I won't need to scrub floors. And Mrs. Lawrence, let's get one thing straight: I hired a housekeeper, not a mother-in-law."

Violet opened her mouth to argue, but I didn't give her the chance. Snapping my laptop shut, I stood.

"Is dinner ready?"

She choked on her next words, then nodded awkwardly.

Ignoring her visible annoyance, I walked past her toward the dining table.

Violet had only been working for me for a week, hired through a high-end agency. Her cooking was exceptional, I had to admit. Since I spent most of my days at the office and barely saw her, I tolerated the excessive chatter for the sake of a good meal.

The moment I sat down, Violet pulled out a chair and planted herself directly across from me. Her lack of boundaries grated on my nerves, but I let it slide.

"Zoey, I saw you carrying a big bag today. What did you buy?" Her tone was overly familiar.

"A handbag," I replied curtly, nodding toward the sofa. "Mrs. Lawrence, please put it in the walk-in closet. Be careful not to scratch it."

She stood reluctantly, muttering under her breath as she trudged over.

When she emerged from the closet ten minutes later, her eyes were wide.

"I just looked it upthat bag costs over two hundred thousand!" She stared at me, face twisted in disbelief. "My god, how can you throw money away like that? In my village, that much money builds a whole house!"

She leaned against the doorframe, shaking her head. "You spend money like waterwhat man will ever be able to afford you?"

The irritation I'd been suppressing all night finally snapped.

I slammed my bowl onto the table.

"Mrs. Lawrence! I will say this once: You are an employee. Not my mother. Not my elder. You have no right to lecture me."

I glared at her, voice rising. "I spend my own money on what I please. And franklydo you really think I need a man to support me?"

Violet flinched, her face flushing, but she wasn't done. "Once you're married, that money belongs to your husband's family. Who would allow a wife to spend like this? You young people never listen. I'm doing this for your own good..."

My appetite vanished. Rage burned in my chest. I was seconds away from firing her on the spot.

But then my gaze drifted to the balcony.

There sat Mochi, my reddish-brown Alaskan Malamutea hundred-pound giant, quiet in the evening light. To me, he wasn't just a pet. He was family. I'd raised him for six years. He was my heart.

Catching my eye, Mochi panted, tongue lolling out in a goofy, adorable grin.

The tension in my chest loosened. My heart softened, and the words of dismissal died in my throat.

Mochi was a hundred-pound Alaskan Malamute with an insatiable need for exercise. Since my role at Swanson Group kept me buried in work, walking him was the most critical part of the nanny's job.

With that in mind, I headed toward the study, tossing a command over my shoulder.

"Clear the table. Don't disturb me today. I have work to finish."

Once inside, I pulled out my phone and dialed the agency. I needed a replacement within three days. After confirming the request, I exhaled slowly, tension easing from my shoulders.

For Mochi's sake, I'd tolerate Violet for just a few more days.

The next morning, a man's low rumble pulled me from sleep.

My pulse spiked. I threw off the covers and hurried to the living room, tightening my robe.

A stranger was sitting on my sofa.

Hearing my footsteps, Violet emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron as if nothing were amiss.

"Zoey, you're up?" She beamed, gesturing to the man. "This is my son, Isaac Whitney. Since you're both young, I brought him over so you could get to know each other."

My gaze shifted to Isaac.

He stood maybe five-seven but easily weighed over two hundred pounds. His face was pitted with acne scars, his greasy hair looked unwashed for a week, and he was sprawled across my imported leather sofa, muddy shoes planted directly on the white carpet.

His eyes raked over meinvasive, assessing. Revulsion slid down my spine.

I pointed at him, then glared at Violet. "This is my private residence. Who gave you permission to bring a stranger into my home?"

Violet's smile faltered. She froze, unsure how to react.

Isaac slammed his hand on the armrest, face twisting.

"Who gave you the right to talk to my mother like that? Is that how your parents taught you to treat elders?" He sneered, leaning forward. "I only came to give you a chance. Otherwise, you couldn't pay me to visit. Apologize to my mom, or don't blame me for getting rough."

My patience snapped. I raised my phone.

"Violet, take your son and get out. Now. Or I call the police." I stared her down. "And don't bother coming back. You're fired."

Violet panicked, waving her hands frantically.

"No, no, no! Zoey, don't misunderstand! I meant well! I thought since you're both single, you'd have things in common." She put on a pitiful expression. "Look at you, over thirty and still alone. I just feel sorry for you. Isaac is a good boy. Sit down and talk to him properly."

I wasn't going to waste breath on people who refused to understand human language. My thumb hovered over the emergency number, but an incoming call cut me off.

My secretary.

"Ms. Swanson, the client just arrived. Are you almost here?"

The meeting. I cursed silently. Today was the negotiation with a critical client. I didn't have time for this circus, and definitely not time to wait for police.

I spun around and marched to the bathroom, ignoring them.

Twenty minutes later, I emerged in a sharp suit and heels. Isaac and Violet hadn't moved.

Isaac scoffed, looking me up and down.

"Look at her, Mom. Heavy makeup, flashy clotheswhat kind of decent woman dresses like that?" He leaned back, arms crossed with disdain. "You'll need to discipline her properly."

Violet shot him a warning glance before turning to me with a fawning smile.

"Zoey, please. You really misunderstood. I don't have bad intentions. I'm only thinking of your future. Why don't you give me"

I raised my hand, cutting her off cold.

"Pack your things. Take him and get the hell out. If you're still here when I get back, I'm calling the police."

I hurled the warning at them before storming out, unable to stand the sight of them a second longer.

By afternoon, the morning's chaos felt like a bad dream. Sitting at my desk, I pulled up the home security feed, expecting an empty house.

Instead, rage clawed at my throat.

Violet and Isaac hadn't left. They'd multiplied.

My living room was packedat least eight strangers crowded around my custom mahogany dining table, treating my home like a banquet hall. They gorged on my food, shouting over one another.

"You've hit the jackpot, Violet," a woman cackled, spraying crumbs. "This place must be worth millions."

"Tell me about it," another chimed in. "I snooped in the walk-in closetyou should see the jewelry. None of it looks cheap."

"I heard she started her own company. She must pull in a fortune every year."

Violet sat at the head of the table, preening under their flattery.

"She makes decent money, I'll give her that." She waved dismissively. "But her temper? Terrible. Young and naive. I'll have my work cut out for me, teaching her how to behave."

Isaac grabbed a fistful of meat and shoved it into his mouth, grease coating his chin. Food debris flew as he spoke.

"Don't worry, Mom. I know how to train a woman." He chewed noisily, eyes gleaming. "She's just flighty because she's unmarried. Once she's my wife, I'll break those bad habits. I have plenty of ways to deal with a disobedient woman."

The relatives cheered.

"Exactly! Just wait until you're living the good life, Violet. Isaac is such a filial son."

"Once they give you a big fat grandson, your life will be complete."

"Don't forget us poor relations when you're rich, Isaac! We're counting on you."

I couldn't watch another second. My fingers trembled as I dialed the police to report a break-in, then ordered my driver to speed back.

On the way, I forced myself to check the feed again.

Empty liquor bottles littered the floor. The relatives were pouring yet another round for Isaac.

"Isaac, you need to tighten the leash," an older man slurred. "Look at the time. A good wife should be home by now."

"Yeah, that won't fly," someone agreed. "Back in our village, no woman would dare stay out this late with guests in the house. She doesn't even know how to entertain properly."

"So what if she makes money? Men are the sky. The husband is the law."

Isaac let out a long, wet belch, face flushed.

"Don't worry, Uncle. I know what I'm doing." He leaned back, pleased with himself. "I heard her on the phone earliersome client meeting. Dressed up like a whore just to go out."

He slammed his glass down. "When we're married, I'll handle the business. She can stay home, serve my mom, and raise the kids. I'll hire all you cousins to run the company. We're family. If I make it big, I won't forget you."

My nails dug into my palms, piercing skin. I focused on the pain to keep from screaming.

"Miss Swanson, we're here."

I didn't wait for him to open the door. I yanked it open and stormed toward the entrance.

The reality was worse than the video.

Muddy footprints tracked across the cream carpet and stained the sofas. My porcelain figurines lay shattered across the living room floor.

Empty snack bags and liquor bottles littered the floor. Had it not been for the familiar layout, I would have sworn I'd walked into the wrong apartment.

But a second later, a far more terrifying realization hit me.

Usually, the moment the lock clicked, Mochi would come barreling toward me, her massive tail wagging like a metronome. At over a hundred pounds, her enthusiastic greetings nearly knocked me over every single day.

Today, the apartment was filled with the raucous noise of strangers. But the one sound that matteredMochi's barkwas absent.

Dread pooled in my stomach. I didn't dare let the thought fully form. I rushed past the mess to the balcony.

The doghouse was empty.

I stood there, frozen, my mind struggling to process the void.

Isaac, his eyes glazed from alcohol, pointed a thick finger at me from the living room.

"What are you staring at? Can't you see we have guests? Get over here and greet your elders!" he slurred. "Honestly, womandon't you know the basics of hospitality?"

Violet bustled over, grabbing my arm to drag me toward the dining table.

"Zoey, you're back! You must be exhausted. Hurry, wash your hands and eat," she said, her voice dripping with feigned warmth. "These are my relatives from back home. Isaac saved you the best partshe was worried you'd be hungry."

I ripped my arm from her grip. My finger trembled as I pointed toward the empty balcony.

"Where is Mochi?"

Violet hesitated, her gaze shifting away.

"Why are you asking about that? It's just a beast. Come on, sit down and eat..."

I took a step back, my voice rising to a scream. "I asked you a question! Where is Mochi?"

Hot tears spilled over before I could stop them.

Violet flinched at my outburst, standing silent and awkward.

Isaac wasn't having it. He stumbled forward, face twisted in a scowl, and slapped me hard enough to snap my head back.

"Watch your tone with my mother! Are you deaf? Did you not hear what I told you this morning?"

He gestured at the table. "We stewed the damn dog. Do you know how much that thing ate? I've never seen a woman waste money like you. It's freezing outside, so a hot pot is exactly what we needed. Consider it the beast's final contribution to the family!"

He scoffed, wiping his nose. "It's just a dog, and you're screaming at my mom over it? You're insane."

A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. His voice faded to a dull murmur.

Ignoring the stinging pain in my cheek, I stumbled into the kitchen.

The large trash can overflowed with familiar reddish-brown fur. Blood smeared the stainless steel sink, stark against the metal.

Then I saw it.

In the corner, Mochi's severed head sat on the floor. Her eyes were wide open, glassy, as if she were still waiting for me to come home.

Something inside me snapped.

I stormed back into the dining room. With a guttural scream, I hooked my fingers under the heavy table and heaved.

Dishes, soup, and chopsticks crashed to the floor in a chaotic explosion.

Two children shrieked in terror.

I was shaking so hard my teeth chattered, my voice a hoarse rasp.

"This is murder! I will make every single one of you pay!"

Violet's relatives scrambled back, circling Isaac and eyeing me with a mix of fear and disdain.

"Isaac, you really need to control your woman. Look at this mess!" one sneered.

"A shrew like this is a curse," another added, shaking his head. "If you don't teach her a lesson now, she'll walk all over you for life."

Humiliated, Isaac's face turned the color of raw liver. He lunged at me, his fist connecting with my jaw, sending me crashing to the floor.

"Are you insane? Look at the child! You've terrified him!"

"Who gave you the nerve to act like this?"

"I'm going to teach you how to be a proper wife today!"

Isaac Whitney was a mountain of a manover two hundred pounds of aggression and entitlement. His fists came down hard, relentless. For a moment, I crumbled under the assault, unable to defend myself against the sheer weight of his violence.

The relatives cheered from the sidelines like spectators at a bloodsport.

"Get her, Isaac! Teach her a lesson!"

"Women need a firm hand. If you don't beat them, they don't listen. Look at this messall that good food wasted!"

"That's my boy! Don't let her walk all over your mother!"

After a flurry of blows, the alcohol caught up with him. He staggered back, chest heaving, energy spent.

I forced myself up through the pain. My body screamed in protest, but adrenaline kept me standing. I wiped blood from my lip and scanned the dining room, a cold smirk touching my face.

"Nobody leaves." My voice was steady despite the trembling in my limbs. "The police are on their way. I'll see every single one of you behind bars."