A Dying Billionaire Begged His Maid to Spend One Night With Him—But His Reason Changed Everything

Iris’s blood ran cold. She pulled her robe tight around herself and hurried down the grand staircase, stepping directly into the path of Stephen Valmont and his security detail.

"What do you think you are doing?" Iris demanded, her voice sharp, standing tall despite her small frame. "This is private property. You have no right to be here!"

Stephen Valmont stopped, eyeing Iris with condescending amusement. He was a silver-haired man in his late fifties, with sharp, predatory features and eyes like cold steel. He adjusted his silk tie, chuckling softly.

"Ah, the little maid," Stephen said dryly. "I suggest you gather your belongings and leave, girl. The party is over. Nicholas is no longer fit to manage his own affairs, let alone this estate. As his legal guardian and interim CEO of Valmont Group, I am taking control of all assets."

"He is not incapacitated!" Iris snapped, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "He is resting! You can't just barge into his home!"

"I have a court order signed by Judge Miller," Stephen said, waving a thick blue document in her face. "Nicholas has missed four consecutive board meetings, failed to respond to corporate summons, and according to medical records leaked from Chicago Hospital, he is suffering from a terminal neurological condition that impairs his cognitive faculties. He is unfit."

"Leaked?" Iris challenged, her mind racing. "Or stolen?"

Stephen’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "Watch your tongue, maid. You are an employee here, nothing more. If you obstruct us, I will have these officers arrest you for trespassing and theft."

"She isn't an employee," a deep, raspy voice echoed from the top of the stairs.

Everyone turned.

Nicholas stood at the top of the landing. He was wearing a dark suit jacket over an unbuttoned white shirt, leaning heavily against the dark mahogany banister. Though his face was pale and his body was clearly weakened, his posture radiated an absolute, terrifying authority that made the two police officers instinctively step back.

"Nicholas," Stephen said, forcing a smooth, fake smile onto his face. "You look... unwell. We are here to help you, nephew. To take the burden off your shoulders."

Nicholas descended the stairs slowly, step by painful step, refusing to let his weakness show. Iris rushed to his side, offering her arm. Nicholas accepted it, leaning on her slightly, his fingers wrapping around hers in plain view of everyone in the foyer.

"Help me?" Nicholas sneered, reaching the bottom floor. He stood toe-to-toe with his uncle. "You've been trying to strip my voting shares since the day my father died, Stephen. You bribed my doctor to leak my private medical files, and you used Victoria to try and force a merger that would liquidate my holding company."

"The board requires leadership, Nicholas!" Stephen barked, his calm veneer cracking. "You are dying! You have weeks left! You are going to let a empire worth forty billion dollars collapse because of your pride?"

"It won't collapse," Nicholas said calmly. He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a stamped, notarized document bound in red ribbon. "Because as of five o'clock yesterday afternoon, I signed full power of attorney and fifty-one percent of my voting shares over to a private trust."

Stephen’s face turned bright red. "What? You can't do that! Who controls the trust?"

Nicholas looked down at Iris, a soft, incredibly tender smile breaking through his exhausted features.

"Iris does," Nicholas declared, his voice echoing clearly across the marble foyer. "Iris Vance is the sole trustee of the Valmont Estate and the primary executor of my will."

A stunned, suffocating silence fell over the hallway.

Stephen stared at Iris as if she had suddenly turned into a ghost. "Her? A servant? A nobody from a foster home? You've lost your mind! The court will throw this out! She manipulated you!"

"She is the only person who cared whether I lived or died while the rest of you circled like vultures," Nicholas spat bitterly. "Get out of my house, Stephen. Before I use the remaining strength I have to destroy your personal holding firm."

Stephen stared at Nicholas, his chest heaving with rage. He looked at Iris, his eyes burning with absolute hatred. "This isn't over, girl. You think you can play in the deep water with sharks? I will tear you apart in court. You won't see a single dime, and I will make sure you end up in a federal prison for corporate fraud."

"Try it," Iris said, holding Stephen’s lethal glare without backing down an inch. "Now get out."

Stephen glared at them both, then turned violently on his heel. "We’re leaving! Call the legal team!" he snarled at his assistants as they marched out the front door, slamming it behind them.

The moment the heavy oak doors shut, Nicholas’s knees gave out.

"Nicholas!" Iris gasped, catching his weight as he collapsed against her.

He was breathing heavily, sweat pouring down his face, his skin pale as ash. She managed to ease him down onto the velvet bench near the entryway. His body was shaking violently—a seizure was starting.