Aunt Divya thought I was a free housekeeper, until my Great-Uncle exposed her and fate revealed my secret.
Part 1
**My Aunt Declared Me Her Maid the Moment She Arrived—But My Great-Uncle and Fate Had Other Plans.**
I’d just sealed the last box of my artisanal candles, ready for the farmer’s market opening. I felt a rare surge of pride.
That very evening, my Aunt Divya and her husband, Arjun, appeared on Great-Uncle Rishi’s doorstep, unannounced.
Before their suitcases even hit the floor, Divya declared I’d be managing their “staff” — meaning me — for everything from their meals to their laundry.
She claimed “this house needed a firm hand.” She barely looked at me when she said it, assuming I was nothing more than an unpaid house guest.
Anya Sharma stood frozen, a wax-stained apron still tied around her waist. Aunt Divya was already directing Arjun to leave their oversized luggage right inside the foyer.
“Anya, dear,” Divya said, waving a dismissive hand towards the stack of candle boxes.
“Put those craft projects away. There’s real work to be done.”
She turned to Great-Uncle Rishi, who stood by silently.
“Honestly, Papa, this place is a mess.”
Divya continued, “I assume Anya handles all the house duties? Good.”
“We’ll need dinner ready by six, and my blouses pressed.”
Arjun shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing. Divya’s eyes swept over me, a smirk playing on her lips.
“You know, for someone supposedly running a business,” she mused, “you really do seem to have a lot of free time.”
“This will keep you busy.”
I felt a cold resolve hardening within me. My hands clenched at my sides. How much further did Aunt Divya intend to push me?
Part 2
The very next morning, Divya paraded through the house, issuing commands as if she owned the place. She insisted I prepare a special lunch for her bridge club, which she then served on “her” heirloom china.
Rishi watched, his shoulders tightening with each of Divya’s grand pronouncements. Arjun kept his eyes fixed on his plate, avoiding any gaze.
Later that week, Divya took me to a local charity event at the Highland Vista Country Club. She introduced me to her friends as “Papa’s little ward, who tries to sell crafts.”
She then openly mocked my artisanal candles, chuckling about my “hobby” to her audience. Rishi’s face stiffened, a flicker of anger in his eyes.
That evening, I heard Rishi on the phone in his study, his voice low and firm. He was speaking to Mrs. Evelyn Hayes, his long-time lawyer.
He instructed her to begin a full financial audit of Divya and Arjun. What hidden truths would Mrs. Hayes’s scrutiny unearth about Divya’s desperate situation?
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