Maid Steals Millionaire’s Heart Days Before His Wedding — Story of the Day

After working at Simon’s house for months, Esme realizes that she is in love with him. But one day Simon brings his fiancé home, a horrible woman who threatens to call immigration on Esme. But what happens when she does call immigration, and Simon realizes that he was in love with Esme all along?

Esmeralda sat at the table in her room, eating a bowl of churros she had made before calling it a night. She missed the chocolate dipping sauce, but she didn't have any chocolate in her kitchenette, and while she knew that Simon wouldn't mind if she helped herself to the main kitchen, she truly did not want to run into Rachel, his fiancée.

She couldn't stand being talked down to, not tonight.

Instead, she ate her churros while sitting down to write a letter to her family. She knew that her mother missed her terribly and that despite the fact that she was working at a manor, earning enough to send home, a part of her wished that she could just go back home.

But without any papers, she didn't know if she would be allowed to go straight back home or whether she would have to answer to authorities or whomever else.

All Esme knew was that when she and her best friend, Beatriz, had signed up at the agency calling for maids, they thought it was their chance of a better life and a way to send money back to their families. But when they had gotten across the border, they really did not expect the culture shock that awaited them.

"Just come home if your heart wants to," her mother said the one day when Esme had managed to call home. Beatriz worked and lived two roads away from Simon's house, and she had fallen in love with her employer's son, Benjamin.

Esme had repeatedly warned her to be careful and not let anything happen that could get her fired. But Benjamin was a kind-natured young man, and he adored Beatriz; Esme could see that clearly. Besides, Benjamin had an international line, and he often allowed Beatriz and Esme to call him.

"Just be careful, that's all I'm saying, Bea," Esme had told her the one evening when they were taking a walk.

"I know, and I am. But I could say the same thing to you, Es," Beatriz giggled at Esme.

*

Esme sighed and picked up another churro. Although everything was very different from what she had expected, she knew she was in a better position than most maids. She had only worked for one other home before coming to Simon's, and it was for a neat and tidy elderly couple.

Esme had enjoyed her time with them, and they were kind and generous people who swapped the sleeper couch for a brand-new double bed just for her when she moved in. The only reason she left their home was because the couple's children thought that moving their parents into an old-age home would be safer for them.

Esme had been lucky to be placed in Simon's home only two days after that, and she felt blessed. While the house was enormous, there were no pets or children, so cleaning was easy. And ever since Simon's new fiancée had moved in, Esme no longer had to cook – Rachel had persuaded Simon to hire a private chef who takes care of all their meals instead of Esme.

The change had given her enough time to carry out her tasks slowly during the day. And she was grateful that in her quarters, she had a little sitting room and a kitchenette, so when her day was over, she could go downstairs and not have to worry about crossing paths with Rachel. Esme knew that Rachel disliked her. She had often heard Rachel complain about her to Simon.

"She's just too much, flaunting around her with her perfect hair," Rachel told Simon.

"Perfect hair? That's what you're going with?" Simon replied.

"I'm just saying that I'm not comfortable with her here. By the wedding, I'd like her to be gone. Maybe we could get an elderly person instead. They are very set in their ways, so we know that the house will be taken care of," Rachel said.

"We'll discuss this after the wedding," Simon said with a tone of finality.

Esme remembered sneaking away after overhearing their conversation. But she wasn't worried about any of it. There was no way possible that Simon would let her go. Not when he loved her as much as he did. Or so he had said.

*

Esme finished off her letter to her mother, signed it off with her full name, and placed it into an envelope. She would slip it to Simon in the morning, and he would post it for her. Sometimes, he added a little package with her letters, sending home sweets and chocolates to spoil her family. Those little actions made her heart glow.

Esme was cleaning the kitchen from the night before when Simon walked in.

"Good morning," he said, holding his tie in one hand.

"Hi," she said, smiling at him. "Can I get you some tea or coffee?"

"Coffee, please," he said, sitting at the island counter. "But do it with the cinnamon powder and whatever else you normally do."

"Right away," she said, opening the cupboards to get whatever she needed.

"I've missed your coffee," he said quietly. "Rachel takes her coffee black, so she doesn't understand how I like mine, and the private chef thinks that filter coffee is the way to go."

Esme missed this. She missed these quiet moments that she used to spend with Simon before Rachel moved in. Even now, although she and Simon were in the large kitchen alone, she felt Rachel would just appear at any moment.

"I know," she said. "I can make it for you every day if you promise to wake up early before Rachel," she said too quickly.

Her heart hammered in her chest. She wanted to tease him like she used to. She wanted to share and cook old family recipes with him, just like before. But all that was in the past now. She knew that as long as Rachel was to be married to Simon, all that would be over.

"Esme," he said. "I will."

She didn't dare turn around and look at him. She knew that one look from him would have her feelings come right back – something that she was working on keeping hidden.

Instead, Esme went into the pantry and got the tin of butterscotch shortbread that she knew Simon loved. It was always the little things. That's how she always showed her love.

She put a few shortbread onto one of the fancy plates with the gold trim and carried it back to Simon. She gave him the coffee and smiled at him.

Then, she left to begin the laundry.

Simon watched Esmeralda while she made his coffee. He wondered what she was thinking about at that moment. Everything was different now. He wanted to pull her aside and tell her that nothing had changed for him. That his impending marriage to Rachel was mainly because of a business arrangement that their parents had made.

Rachel didn't know about any of that, so she truly believed that they were getting married because they were in love.

But Rachel didn't understand Simon. He remembered the first night that their families were together after the engagement. They were all having dinner at his house. It was before Rachel had moved in.

He remembered how Esme had set up everything outside, with fresh lilies, which was a smell that he always associated with her, and lots of candles. She had made everything beautiful and romantic. The only wrong thing was that Rachel was the one he was marrying and not Esme.

"She's a lovely young woman," his mother said when she sent Esme for more napkins. "How did you find her?"

"My secretary found her. Well, she found an agency, and Esme was the person they sent," he replied.

"And you're happy with her?"

"The happiest," he said, smiling.

"Well then, just be careful, son. Rachel is bound to have a problem with it. And, you know how much is at stake," she said, helping herself to a glass of champagne from the table.

"I do, but I think we'd be just fine without their money."

"I agree, but there's nothing wrong in securing a successful lineage for your children. Two wealthy families coming together, what could be more powerful?" his mother asked.

Simon wanted to retaliate and say that there was an entire world of possibilities that did not rest on the amount of wealth his parents were trying to secure. What good was it to have all of that if he wasn't happy?

The thought of having to stay with Rachel for his entire life filled him with anxiety. He didn't want her to be there forever. He didn't even want her to move in. He didn't want to marry her.

"Can I get you anything else?" Esme asked Simon and his mother when she returned with a thick pile of starched white napkins.

"No, thank you. Go and take the night off, Esme," Simon said.

"The night off? Why?" his mother asked.

"Because the chef is bringing his own staff to serve the dinner, and Esme has been on her feet the entire day. She should take the night off to do whatever she wants. If you'd like to go out, just ask the chauffeur to pull the car around," he nodded to Esme.

And when Esme turned the corner and went back inside, his mother turned to him.

"Oh, Simon, I don't think you know what you're doing. But don't mess this up for the family. Now, let's get everyone out for dinner."

Now, watching Esme, Simon wanted to go back in time. He wanted to refuse the proposal that his parents had set up for him and Rachel. He wanted to stand up to them and tell them that what he felt for Esme was so pure that he would never be able to tolerate Rachel in the same way.

But the wedding was a few weeks away, and they had already spent a fortune. He couldn't cancel it now, even if he wanted to.

She placed a plate of his favorite shortbread in front of him with his coffee. He could smell the ground spices that she had added to the milk. It smelt like home, like everything familiar and comforting to him, set into that mug before him.

Before he could say anything else, Esme walked away.

*

Esme worked through the laundry, pausing at one of Simon's t-shirts. She took a deep breath, hoping to be enveloped in his scent. But the T-shirt smelt all wrong. It was sweet and floral and smelled exactly like Rachel.

Esme fought back her tears.

What did I really expect? she thought to herself. He is marrying her in three weeks and two days.

She separated the colors and began to wash, singing sounds of her childhood in her mind.

Later, when Esme was dusting the sitting room and all of the hundreds of little trinkets that covered almost every surface, the security guard came through the door.

"Esme, there's a delivery for Miss Rachel. Should I allow them in?" Gavin asked.

"Yes, she did give strict instructions to take everything in," Esme said, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Probably, wedding stuff, huh? I'm sure they're going all out. She will," Gavin chuckled.

"Yes, I think so. Come, I'll get the delivery with you."

Esme went outside to pick up the delivery. Rachel had told her that everything had to be picked up by Esme directly and left in her bedroom, not picked up by security, and left in the foyer until Rachel came home and attended to it.

When she saw the delivery van come through the large metal gates, Esme imagined that the package was for her and that it was something she had really adored – enough that Simon had paid attention and had gotten it as a surprise.

She took a deep breath and shook the thought out of her head. Instead, she thought about how disappointed her mother would be. Disappointed to know that her daughter was pining after a man who was already promised to another.

"Delivery for a Miss Rachel M.," the delivery man said, getting out of the van with a thick clipboard.

"I'll take it, thank you," Esme said.

"Good, just sign here, please," he said.

Esme signed her name and took the package. She longed to know what was in the long pink and white box, but she did not want to risk anything and open it. She wondered if it really was something for the wedding. The package was too light to be a wedding dress, and it was too long to be jewelry – but those things were highly unlikely to be delivered.

If anything, Rachel would pick them up herself and then call Esme out to the car to carry everything into the house for her.

Esme took the box and left it in Rachel and Simon's bedroom. She resisted the urge to do anything else because the other helper, Lena, had already taken care of the bedrooms and the upstairs bathrooms, and she had left. Lena was only called in to stay longer when the family was over.

Other than that, she came in every day to do the bedrooms and bathrooms before leaving the rest of the house for Esme to do.

Esme was fine with that. If anything, she hated going into their bedroom and having to make the bed – smelling Rachel's scent mixed with Simon's. It was too much for her.

*

When Simon got home that evening, he didn't want to deal with Rachel talking about choosing the final wedding colors for the tables. He didn't want to decide whether fish or chicken would be better for the second course.

If he was honest, what he wanted to do was sit in the kitchen with Esme and watch her move around like it was her own home. He wanted her to cook something from her home for him – something important to her. Something that felt like she was sharing a memory with him.

But when he went downstairs to her quarters to find her, she wasn't there. Instead, Esme was in the kitchen with Rachel.

"I've asked the chef to leave for the evening," Rachel said. "I wanted to see if Esmeralda could make some basics."

"Esme cooks well," Simon said. He knew that Rachel would have been giving her a difficult time.

"She did all the cooking before you decided to get Andrew to come and cook here," he said.

At that moment, Esme came out of the pantry carrying a few ingredients. When she saw Simon, her eyes lit up, and she smiled.

"What are you making, Esme?" he asked.

"Spanish custard tarts," Rachel said before Esme could even get the words out. "My sister likes them, and because she's coming to stay before the wedding, I wanted to see if Esmeralda knew how to make them."

"I do know how to make them," Esme said. "I've made them for years. It's a family recipe."

"Well, I don't need a family history or anything of the sort. Just make them and make them good," Rachel said, picking at the tub of olives on the counter.

"I'm going to take a bath," Rachel continued. "I expect the tarts to be ready before bedtime. Do you think you can manage that, Esmeralda?"

"Yes, of course," Esme said.

*

When Rachel left to take her bath, Esme felt like she could actually breathe. She looked up at Simon and found him looking at her.

"It's good to see you in the kitchen again," he said.

Esme smiled. She was grateful to have moments with him again, but it was becoming too difficult. She knew that everything would change when he was engaged to Rachel. He told her he would explain the entire thing to her, but it had been months, and he hadn't done that yet.

It's more complicated than just me marrying her. I need you to understand that Esme. I'll explain it to you at some point. But for now, just know that none of this is my first choice, he had told her.

"Do you want me to heat up dinner before I begin?" she asked him. "Chef prepared dinner before he left. It's in the oven."

"Yeah, sure. That will be great, thank you," he said, leaning against the fridge.

Esme re-heated the food and put it onto a plate for him. As much as she was beginning to see that it was a burden to her, she loved taking care of Simon. It was something she had loved doing since the day she moved in.

"Do you want to eat in the dining room or the living room?" she asked.

"I'll eat right here," he said, rolling his sleeves. "I'll keep you company."

Esme smiled and nodded and put his food in front of him. She went to the dining room and poured him a glass of bourbon.

"You know me well," he said, taking the glass. "Why don't you have one with me?"

Esme shook her head.

"And have Rachel come downstairs and see me sipping on expensive bourbon instead of making her tarts?" she laughed. "You know how that will end."

Simon frowned and took a sip from his glass.

Esme was disappointed when he didn't say anything. She hoped that he would ask, that he would want to know more about how Rachel treated her and the things she said to her. But when he picked up his fork and began eating, Esme knew the moment was over.

She tried to hide her disappointment in him. Esme began to measure out the ingredients for the custard tarts. The last thing she wanted was to have Rachel come downstairs and not find them in the oven. She made the pastry cases and wondered what Beatriz was doing.

It had been two weeks since they had seen each other, but they were scheduled to do their grocery shopping tomorrow. Simon had always told Esme to help herself to everything in the pantry, but there were some things that only one supermarket had, and Beatriz and Esme tried to go together.

Esme glanced up at Simon. He was eating and scrolling through his phone. She tucked her hair behind her ears and set off to work with her baking.

Simon chewed his food slowly. He knew that he had disappointed Esme. He could see her light dim when she started to talk about Rachel, and he had shut down. He knew that the moment he picked up his fork and unlocked his phone, she would know that it was final, that the moment was over.

But in reality, he could not allow himself to ask her for more. He just could not bring himself to hear anything else about Rachel that would make him want to end everything. He knew that there was too much riding on this arrangement. He didn't want to marry Rachel, but he also desperately wanted to keep his parents happy.

Simon knew that she kept glancing at him from behind her long eyelashes. When he knew she fully immersed herself in the baking, he looked up and watched her. Simon watched her long fingers take control of the pastry. He watched how her forehead wrinkled as she concentrated on what she was doing.

He continued to watch her. She caught his eye in the oven reflection and smiled before looking away quickly.

Simon knew that he had blown it. He knew that Esme wanted him to protect her against Rachel, but he just couldn't do it.

The next morning, Esme showered and changed early. She was dressed in her own clothes, instead of her uniform - something that made her feel more like herself. She set the coffee to brew and laid out mugs for Rachel and Simon. Then, she left to go shopping with Beatriz.

*

"Esme, here!" Beatriz called from the spice aisle.

"Hi," Esme said and folded her into a hug. "I've missed you!"

"I've missed you too! You look great, being in the big house looks good on you," Beatriz said.

"I wouldn't say that," Esme said. She picked up a melon and put it into her basket. "A lot has changed. He's engaged now," Esme said.

"What? Already? But didn't you say that you felt like things were getting better? Like you were getting closer to him?"

"Yes, but maybe I was very foolish about it all, and I thought it was more than it was," Esme said.

"I don't believe that," Beatriz said.

"How are things with Benjamin, though?"

"Oh! It's really good, but he keeps pressing on about telling his parents so we don't have to hide it. I'm not sure about that. I think it will change everything, and who knows, maybe they'll fire me? Imagine that? But he did say that he has a friend who can help us with getting our papers."

"Seriously?" Esme asked. She suddenly felt hope rise in her body – if she got her papers, she could leave and visit her family from time to time. She could see her mother, sit, and eat fresh fruit with her sisters.

"Yes! So, I'll keep you posted, Es. But just think, we could be done with the fear soon. And we'll be able to go home."

They went around the store, getting everything that they needed to get.

Esme was almost bouncing. She felt so light on her feet about the possibility of going home. She didn't care how long the process took, but she was just grateful that the opportunity was there and that there was a chance that she could be home sooner rather than later.

She couldn't wait to return to the house and write to her mother; she wanted to share this new joy. She wanted to share the hope.

Beatriz treated Esme to corn-on-the-cob from the vendor outside the store – it was something that reminded them of home, and their shopping trips were usually documented with having one. Beatriz usually bought a second one to take home with her for Benjamin.

Despite everything he said, Esme knew he would never come to this side of town, or at least, he wouldn't want to be caught there.

"Don't be silly," Beatriz told her when Esme voiced her thoughts.

"He's just usually working when we come shopping. It's not his fault," Beatriz said.

"Yes, I agree. I think I'm just being cynical because of how things are with Simon. I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven," Beatriz told her with a kiss on her nose.

When Esme returned to the house, she was not surprised that neither Rachel nor Simon were home. It was barely lunchtime, so she knew that Rachel would most likely be sitting in a clubhouse with her friends, who seemed to look alike and enjoy the same things. Simon would be sitting behind his desk at work.

Esme carried all her groceries to the pantry, putting everything where it belonged while trying to decide what she would make for her dinner that evening - the chef would cook for Rachel and Simon. She had stocked up on all Simon's favorites, knowing that her next trip to the store would only be in two weeks.

She washed her hands and face and changed back into her uniform.

She knew she had to dust the first floor, which meant taking care of all the bedrooms and checking to see if the curtains needed washing. Esme went into the scullery, where all the cleaning materials were. She took a bucket and put dusting cloths, with dusters and furniture polish.

She truly hated the smell of the furniture polish – it stayed on her skin long after she was done with the dusting and polishing.

Since hearing that she and Beatriz were most likely going to get their papers, something had changed in her. She had felt bolder and braver than before.

If Simon were home, I would have probably thrown my arms around him and told him not to marry Rachel, she thought to herself.

When Esme got to Rachel and Simon's room, she saw the long white and pink box from the day before sitting on the long ottoman at the foot of the bed. Esme put her bucket of cleaning supplies down and opened the box.

In the box, she found the most beautiful veil. Esme ran her fingers through the veil. She was taken aback by how delicate it felt between the fingers. Esme had always looked forward to her own wedding. It was something that she had planned since she was a child.

And she knew that she wanted a veil that would be lightly embroidered with all her favorite flowers across the bottom.

Esme had dreamt of her wedding for a long time, but before, the groom was always faceless because Esme had felt that she had not met the person she wanted to be with forever. But since she had taken the job with Simon, the face of the groom in all her dreams was always him.

Esme opened her low ponytail and tied her hair into a bun. Then, she turned around and carefully took the veil out of the box. Her hands shook with anticipation. She just wanted to see what she would look like.

She stood in front of the mirror, smiling at herself but also shocked at her boldness – Esme never acted out in this manner. Then, she attached the veil to her hair.

Esme looked at herself in the mirror, and she could also see it – walking down the aisle to Simon, him in a black suit and her in a beautifully long and flowy dress. When Esme opened her eyes, she saw Rachel standing behind her.

Rachel looked too stunned to speak at first. Then she ran forward toward Esme. Rachel grabbed Esme by the shoulders, turning her around with such ferocity that Esme felt fear deep within her.

"How dare you touch my veil?" Rachel shrieked, pulling the veil off Esme's head and getting her hands tangled in Esme's hair.

Then Rachel slapped Esme with the veil in her hand, the corner grazing Esme's eye. Esme cried out in pain.

Esme began to breathe heavily. She knew that she was extremely close to tears. And what was worse was that she knew that she was in the wrong. She had gone up to their bedroom, and she had tried on the veil. It was all her fault.

"What on earth is going on?" Simon asked from the doorway.

"Please, ma'am, forgive me," Esme pleaded with Rachel. She held her cheek to try and stop the stinging she could feel to her feet from the impact.

"What's going on here?" Simon demanded, louder this time.

Rachel shot Esme a dirty look before turning to look at him.

"Darling!" she exclaimed. "This immigrant woman wants to steal my veil and stop our wedding!" she grabbed onto Esme's arm, not letting go of her.

"What?" Esme began. "No! The veil is just so beautiful, and I saw it here when I came into the room to dust. Please, it is so beautiful that I just couldn't resist."

Rachel pushed Esme away, sending her a few feet back.

"All this screaming just because of a veil? A veil? Seriously!" Simon exclaimed.

Esme tried to catch his eye, but he avoided her completely.

"Simon! It's my wedding veil! Every girl on the planet knows it is a bad omen for someone to try it on!"

Rachel threw the veil at Simon, where he watched it fly past him, landing on the wooden floor.

"Come on, Rachel. That's all just a superstition. Leave the poor little girl alone, and come on. Let's go downstairs. I'm starving. Let's eat something and forget about this entire thing," Simon said.

"No!" Rachel shouted. "Don't you know? These women do anything to land themselves a rich groom, just like you. Do you want me to forget about it? I see how she looks at you!"

"Hey, Rachel, enough of this!" Simon said. "Enough!"

"Are you seriously yelling at me now?" Rachel screamed louder. Then, Rachel seemed to remember herself.

Esme watched as Rachel took a deep breath before making her eyes large and sad. Esme knew that this was how she got things to her will.

"Darling," she said to Simon. "Don't you see? We are already fighting over her."

Simon looked over at Esme briefly. His eyes met hers, and she knew what she needed to do.

"Ma'am, please," she said, taking Rachel's arm. "I don't want to–"

"Go to your room right now!" Rachel screamed at her, shrugging her away.

Esme was actually afraid of the look in Rachel's eye. She didn't think that there was any other choice. She turned around and ran to her room.

But as Esme was on her way out, she slipped on the veil, causing her to fall on the floor. Esme closed her eyes. She was embarrassed, of course, but deeper than that, there was a pain slowly creeping up her ankle.

From behind her, she could hear Rachel laughing.

"Hey, hey, hey," Simon said, coming to her side. He held her back with one hand and reached toward her ankle with his other hand.

"Hold on," he said, looking her in the eye. "I'll help you."

Simon held onto Esme as she slowly lifted herself off the ground. When she was almost to her feet, Simon carried her in his arms.

"You're supposed to carry me to the bedroom," Rachel shouted at him.

Simon ignored her and lifted Esme to the edge of his bed and made her sit.

"Does it hurt?" he asked her.

"Sir, I'm alright," Esme said. "I'll just go back to my room and–"

"No, no, sit," he said.

"No! Get out of this house, girl. You are fired," Rachel said.

"What?!" Esme cried. She had tried to keep herself contained, but she just couldn't keep it in any longer.

"Please, no! I have nowhere else to go! Please, I need this job! Please," she pleaded.

"No, don't worry," Simon told her.

"Rachel," Simon said, standing up and facing her. "This is my house. I decide who works here and who doesn't."

"Okay, then, Simon. Decide," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "Me or her?"

*

Simon looked from Rachel to Esme. On one hand, he had Esme crying on the bed at what was unfolding before her eyes. On the other hand, he had Rachel, who had a viciousness to her that Simon had never seen before – in fact, he didn't think that she could have been so ugly to another human being.

"Sir," Esme said, looking up at him. "It's okay, really, I'll go myself."

"Yeah, leave," Rachel said.

"Thank you for everything," Esme said.

Rachel shooed her away.

"No, wait," Simon said, watching Esme walk away.

That evening, Esme stood in her room. She had packed all her belongings and was dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, ready to leave the house. She did not know where she would go, but she knew she needed to leave.

She folded her uniform and left it on the edge of the bed.

Maybe I could stay with Beatriz for the night, she thought. I'll figure out what to do next in the morning.

As she closed her suitcase, Rachel entered her room and shoved Esme onto the bed.

"Do you really think you can get away so easily?" she asked.

"Ma'am?" Esme said, startled but also highly on guard. She didn't want to say or do the wrong thing.

"I've already reported you," she said. "To immigration services."

Esme's heart sank. She knew that this threat was imminent, especially because Rachel was not a nice person. And Esme knew that she wasn't impressed with how Simon had spoken to her. She wanted to make sure that Esme knew how upset she was.

And Esme felt she would do anything to get her way.

"Now, get out," Rachel said, kicking Esme's bag until it reached the wall. "Let's see if they catch you before you go."

I need to get out of here right now, Esme thought as she got off the bed.

But before she could do anything else, she could hear sirens.

Esme looked around the room. She knew that she was trapped.

"No, no," she whispered to herself. "Not the police!"

She ran to the window, ready to escape, but she could see the police cars and the lights clearly – if she had a clear vision of them, then they had a clear vision of her. After a minute, Esme realized that the police cars were on the road, not in the driveway. They were not there for her. But they could have been.

There's only one option, she thought. I have to secretly return through the house. Maybe I can hide somewhere in the house until they leave.

Esme wanted to open her bedroom and go upstairs when she clearly heard Simon and Rachel fighting.

"Why would you kick her out?" Simon demanded.

"Oh, My God, Simon! She is just a maid!"

"Don't talk about her like that, Rachel. That's not all she is."

Esme heard footsteps descending the staircase separating the main house from her living quarters. Her heart hammered loudly beneath her chest. She hoped that it was Simon, but she knew that it could also be a policeman.

When the door opened, Esme hid behind it, trying to be as quiet as possible. She shifted slowly as she heard Simon sigh. Esme continued moving along the wall until her elbow hit a frame, which fell to the ground and broke.

Simon pushed the door a little more and saw her.

"Oh, Esmeralda, I'm so glad you didn't go anywhere," he said, closing the door.

"Simon, they will look for me. They will look for my documentation, and they will send me off," she said frantically.

"Yes, they will," he agreed. Simon looked around the room, and Esme knew that he was thinking about some plan of action for her.

"Don't worry," he said. "I'll deal with it. I'll figure something out. I promise you that, Esme. But I need you to stay here for now, okay?"

Simon turned to open the door, and Esme stopped him.

"Sir, I can't. Rachel is here."

Simon put his hand on her arm and squeezed gently.

"Don't be afraid, Esme. Now that she thinks you left, there's no need for her to come down here. Just be quiet and try to keep the light off if you can. I don't think she'll come to this side of the house at all, but I'll also try and keep her on the other side."

Esme nodded at him.

When Simon left the room, Esme sat on the bed and hoped that everything he was doing was out of love for her and not pity.

Hours later, after Esme had been pacing, Simon knocked on the door. Esme had spent most of her time in the room wondering what she would do next. As much as she trusted Simon, she knew she still had Rachel to contend with. And the thought of that terrified her.

Simon stepped into the room with a tray of food and a lily.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get down here sooner," he said. He gave the lily, smiling at her.

"Why are you doing all this?" Esme asked, gesturing at the tray.

"I don't know," he said. "But the thought of you leaving here, leaving home, I couldn't handle it." He reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"I felt like something was being taken away from me," he said. "Some part of me that I refused to be parted from." He cupped the side of her face in his hand.

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Oh," Simon said, stepping away from her. "I'm sorry. I think I've said too much. I'd better go. Enjoy your dinner."

And then he left the room.

Esme smelled the lily as she sat on her bed. She was scared of the situation, but she was also elated. This was the closest Simon had gotten to admitting his feelings for her.

*

After Simon had left Esme with her dinner, he went upstairs and asked Rachel to leave.

"What about the wedding?" she demanded.

"The wedding is off for now. Go to your parents for a while," he said.

He wanted to tell her that the wedding was off for good, but he kept thinking about his parents and his obligation to them.

For the next few days, he continued to visit Esme in her room, taking her meals to her. Every day, he took lilies for her. It was a routine that had become sacred to him. He had never laughed more than he did in those days with her. He hated that she was kept in her room, but he knew that it was the safest option for her.

He didn't know if Rachel would retaliate and call Immigration again.

"How did you know that I love lilies?" Esme asked him one day when he went to visit her.

"Because you always smell like them," he smiled.

Simon bent down to kiss her for the first time, but Esme pulled away from him, sitting on her bed.

"Please, no, Simon. You have a fiancée," she said.

"But you're the only one I've been thinking about," he said, sitting beside her.

"But what about Rachel?"

"The day she kicked you out, that's the day I saw her for who she really is. I don't think I can handle that," he admitted.

"Yes, but the wedding is so soon," she said.

Simon put his hand on hers.

"It is, but I am canceling it, Esmeralda."

"What?" she asked, surprised.

"Come on, I want to be with you. And nothing will stop us," he said.

*

Esme fell asleep thinking about her dream wedding again. She was finally closer to the reality that she had wanted all along.

She stretched as her sleep broke, not opening her eyes just yet because she wanted to hold onto the image of marrying Simon a little longer in her mind. Although her eyes were closed, Esme would feel a presence in the room.

"Darling, is that you?" she asked.

But, when she opened her eyes, Esme did not expect to find Rachel standing at her bedside, cutting her lilies with a pair of garden scissors.

"So, he's already your darling, huh?" Rachel asked.

"What are you doing here?" Esme asked her.

"Oh, Simon never gave me flowers," Rachel said. "You always smelled like these lilies. You know, at first, I thought that I smelled them from Simon. I checked his body wash, too, just in case it was that. But it wasn't, was it? But yesterday, when I came back from my parents' house to get more clothes, I smelt lilies. And that's how I realized that you were somewhere in this house."

Rachel leaped to the bed and pulled herself close to Esme until they were almost touching noses.

"Get away from me!" Esme said.

"No!" Rachel shouted, squeezing Esme's chin in her hand.

"Simon! Help!" Esme screamed.

"Oh, honey, I won't hurt you," Rachel said.

"Then what do you want?" Esme mumbled.

"I want to get rid of Simon," Rachel giggled. "And I'll take his money in the process. I know that it's all going to destroy you. What a bonus for me, darling!" Rachel pushed Esme and jumped off the bed, walking out of her room.

Esme ran after Rachel.

"Please," she pleaded. "Please don't hurt Simon. And I will do whatever you want me to do. Just leave Simon alone."

"It's too late," Rachel laughed. "I've already taken care of everything."

At that moment, Simon entered the hallway where Rachel and Esme stood.

"Rachel? Esme?" he said, rooted to the spot. "Oh, Dear God. Well, while you're here, Rachel, I'm canceling the wedding."

"Oh, Simon," Rachel snorted. "That's fine with me. I won't marry a criminal, Simon," she said, folding her arms.

"What are you talking about?" he asked her.

Then the door opened, followed by immigration officers. Esme wanted to scream and run, but she was unable to move.

"We received a call about an illegal immigrant at this residence," an officer said.

"It's a misunderstanding," Simon said. "It's not true, okay."

"Yes, it is true. Here she is," Rachel said, turning to Esme, who had fallen to her knees. Rachel grabbed Esme by the arm and pulled her up.

"Hey!" Simon yelled.

"No, stay where you are," the officer said, pulling Simon back.

"I won't let you take Esmeralda," Simon said.

"Oh, don't worry, Simon. You will both be sitting together in neighboring cells. You won't be separated. Yet," Rachel said.

"You, Mr Simon Beck, are under arrest for employing and housing an illegal immigrant," the officer said.

"Please, Sir," Esme said, running forward. "I snuck into his house. He didn't know anything." Esme knew lying was wrong, but she couldn't think of anything else. She had to save Simon.

"Officers, that's a lie. She's lying," Rachel said. "Take them away."

"That's not going to happen," Simon said. "Because this woman is not an illegal immigrant. She is my fiancée."

"What?" Rachel shouted.

Simon reached into his pocket.

"Sir, hands out of your pocket and up in the air!" the officer said.

"Okay, okay, easy," he said. Simon removed his hand from his pocket, taking a ring box out as well.

He turned toward Esme, smiled, and got down on one knee.

"Will you marry me, Esme?" he asked.

Esme gasped and nodded.

"Yes!" she said.

Simon slid the ring onto her finger and kissed her.

"Wait, Sir," the officer said. "If this woman is your fiancée, then who called us?"

"It would have been this crazy woman here," Simon replied, stepping in front of Esme. "She won't leave us alone."

"Hey, what did you say?" Rachel asked, kicking and screaming.

The officers carried her out of the house.

"Simon, are you really going to let them take her?" Esme asked.

"Yes. She deserves it. And anyway, a couple hours in the precinct won't hurt Rachel, for sure," he grinned.

"So, now what?" she asked.

"Now, we move you to the main house, and then, we will ask for your family's blessing to marry."

A few months later, Simon and Esme sat outside her mother's home. Her family had happily given them their blessing, and Simon had promised to sort out the legal issues for Esme to receive her documentation. Soon, they would be married, and she would no longer have to worry about anything again.

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