The Billionaire’s Secret Heirs (Celine and Hunter) novel Chapter 8

Chapter 8

-CELINE’S POV-

A lump formed in my throat as my eyes locked with Hunter’s.

“Please, God. Don’t let this be the end of my job.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers trembling as I reached for the door handle.

“Open it,” he ordered, his voice sharp, leaving no room for hesitation.

I did as I was told, stepping aside as he walked in. His eyes scanned the room, his touch grazing surfaces as he moved around, quiet and calculating.

I had worked tirelessly to turn this disaster into something spotless. And he saw it. I knew he did.

For a brief moment, he nodded, and a flicker of hope sparked in my chest. Maybe–just maybe he was impressed.

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But then he turned, and whatever softness I thought I saw was gone. His expression was cold, his stare sharp enough to slice right through me.

I felt a shiver dance along my spine.

“Sir… did–did I do well?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

I needed to hear it. Just a word. Just something to confirm that all the scrubbing, the aching, the exhaustion–it all meant something.

Hunter parted his lips, and my heart picked up an uneasy, frantic rhythm.

“Go upstairs.” His tone was unreadable. “There are seven rooms that haven’t been used in months. Leave them spotless. You have two hours.”

Two hours.

Seven rooms.

The frustration flared in my chest before I could push it down.

I had just spent hours scrubbing every inch of this one room, and now I had to do *seven more? My back already felt like it had been run over, and I was *so* damn tired.

But I knew better than to argue.

I had begged for this second chance. I wouldn’t throw it away just because my body was screaming for rest.

So, I forced a smile. Big, wide, and maybe a little too eager.

“Sure thing, sir! I’ll get right to it.” My voice was filled with false enthusiasm, but I kept my chin high. “Is there anything else you’d like me to do?”

For a split second, something flickered across Hunter’s face–something I almost wanted to call surprise. But then, just as quickly, it disappeared.

“Get to work.”

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Three simple words. Sharp. Cold. But right now? The sweetest thing I could’ve heard.

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I turned, ready to leave, but my body felt heavy. The exhaustion pressed against me like a weight, heat creeping up my neck from all the hours of hard work.

Then-

“Mr, will you play with me?”

Ceasar’s small, bright voice cut through my thoughts.

I froze.

Oh, God.

The last time Ceasar crossed paths with Hunter, it had cost me my job. I *just* got this chance back–I wasn’t about to let history repeat itself.

Spinning around, I crouched down, my hands reaching for my son.

“Ceasar, sweetheart,” I whispered urgently. “We have to go.”

I scooped him up before he could say another word, my arms wrapping tightly around his little frame. I didn’t dare meet Hunter’s gaze–I could feel it, piercing and unrelenting.

With quick steps, I walked away, not stopping until I was far enough to breathe again.

The head maid was waiting for me, her expression unreadable as she led me to the seven rooms.

I stepped inside the first one, and my stomach sank.

It was a mess.

Just like the first one.

I inhaled deeply, pressing my fingers to my temples for a second before rolling up my sleeves.

*You can do this, Celine.*

Because I had no other choice.

I pressed a trembling hand over my lips, forcing them to stay still, to keep from turning downward.

Tears burned at the edges of my eyes, threatening to spill, but I refused to let them. Not in front of Caesar. Not when he needed me to be strong.

Every muscle in my body ached. Not just a dull pain–no, this was the kind of pain that settled deep in my bones, making it feel like if I moved too fast, my body might just fall apart.

I squeezed my temples, willing myself to stay calm. *Celine, you can do this. Just a little more, and it’ll be over.”

I repeated the words in my head like a prayer. A desperate, exhausted prayer.

I had been scrubbing, sweeping, and hauling things out of these rooms for what felt like forever, but now, I was down to the

last one.

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Caesar was starting to get restless, his little body buzzing with energy as he ran in circles. I wanted to stop him, to tell him to sit still, but I barely had the strength to stand upright.

The last box.

I bent over, my spine screaming in protest, and grabbed the final dusty carton.

*Almost there.*

I carried it out, my back throbbing with every step.

The second I tossed it away, I exhaled, long and deep.

“Phew,” I muttered, brushing the dust off my hands.

And then I heard it.

A cry.

Not just any cry. *Caesar’s.*

My heart clenched as I turned, spotting him sitting on the floor, his tiny fists rubbing at his tear–streaked face.

I rushed over, ignoring the fire in my legs.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” My voice came out soft, gentle, but my heart was racing.

Caesar hiccupped between sobs. “I’m hungry, Mom. I want to eat something.”

My chest tightened, my stomach twisting into knots.

I hadn’t fed him.

Not properly.

I had been so caught up in keeping my job, in making sure we had a future, that I hadn’t thought about how long he’d gone without food.

*How could I let this happen?*

I bit down on my lip, swallowing the lump in my throat. We were still too far from home, and I couldn’t ask him to wait. Not when he was already falling apart.

Then, I saw her.

The head maid.

She was walking toward me, her expression unimpressed, like she had better things to do than check up on me.

“Hey,” she said, stopping a few feet away. “Are you done with your work?”

Her tone was clipped, impatient.

I forced my body to straighten, ignoring the way my muscles screamed in protest.

“Yes. Yes, I am,” I answered quickly.

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She rolled her eyes. “Good.”

She turned to leave, and I should’ve let her go. Should’ve swallowed my pride and figured something else out.

But then I looked down at my son–his cheeks still damp, his little body curled in on itself–and my ego crumbled.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

“Please,” I blurted out, my voice shaking. “Can I ask you for something?”

The head maid turned back toward me, her brows pinched together. “What is it?”

I swallowed hard, gripping Caesar’s tiny hand in mine. “Please… can you give me some food?” My voice came out small, desperate. “It’s not for me. Just–look at my son. He’s been crying. He’s hungry. My house is too far.”

She let out a slow breath, her gaze flicking from me to Caesar. Then, without a word, she turned and walked away.

My heart dropped.

But then I heard it.

“Follow me.”

I didn’t hesitate. I scooped Caesar up, pressing his warm little body against mine as I hurried after her, my heart pounding with something dangerously close to relief.

We walked in silence down the stairs, through the long, elegant hallways, until we reached the kitchen.

The head maid spoke a few words to the chef, and within minutes, a plate of food was placed in front of her. Small. Too small.

She turned, extending it toward me. “Here. But listen to me carefully.”

I took the plate, holding it tight as if she might change her mind.

“This is the first and last time you ask for food,” she said, her tone sharp enough to cut skin. “You’re a maid, not a burden. You should be grateful the boss even let you and your child stay. Learn your place.”

Her words sliced through me, but I nodded anyway. I had no energy to fight, no pride left to defend. All I cared about was the food in my hands and the little boy in my arms.

I turned and walked out, my eyes locked on the small, barely–there portion. My chest ached at the sight of it. It wouldn’t be enough. Not even close.

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A sob built in my throat, and this time, I couldn’t swallow it down. Tears blurred my vision, sliding down my cheeks in quiet surrender.

I blinked them away, focusing on getting to the servant quarters. I just needed to feed him first. Just needed to-

I crashed into something.

No- someone.*

Firm. Solid. Warm.

I gasped, stumbling back, and when I lifted my gaze, my stomach clenched.

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*Hunter.*

His presence sucked the air from the room.

He looked different than he had this morning–less composed, more… tense. There was something in his eyes, something heavy, like exhaustion and frustration tangled together.

I quickly swung the plate behind my back, as if that would somehow make it disappear. As if he hadn’t already seen it.

His gaze darkened. But he didn’t say anything. He just… brushed past me.

I exhaled, my shoulders sagging.

Almost out. Almost—

Then his voice cut through the air, sharp and cold.

“Tomorrow. My study and room need cleaning.” A pause. “The head maid will tell you what needs to be done.”

I sucked in a breath. “Yes, sir.”

I took a step forward.

“And Celine.”

I froze.

“If you really want this job,” he said, his voice slow, deliberate, “don’t show up a minute late.”

His eyes met mine for half a second, just long enough to make my pulse stutter.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I nodded. Then I walked away, gripping Caesar and the plate of food like they were the only things keeping me from falling

apart.

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