The CEO's Secret Obsession-Chapter 132: Claim

[Reid Mansion — Kitchen]

The kitchen was alive in a way it hadn’t been in years.

Staff moved with purpose, voices low, footsteps careful—as if the house itself had woken up and was watching.

Pauline stood near the center island with her hands loosely folded, observing rather than directing.

She didn’t need to raise her voice. Her presence alone shifted the rhythm of the space.

A senior maid—grey-haired, sharp-eyed, someone who had served the family for decades—stood a respectful distance away, waiting.

"Prepare Alexander’s room," Pauline said calmly. "And my mother’s as well. They will be arriving today."

"Yes, madam," the maid replied immediately, already making a mental list.

She hesitated, then asked carefully, "And should we prepare the master bedroom too?"

Pauline stilled but just for a second.

"The master bedroom?" she repeated softly.

The maid’s fingers tightened around the edge of her apron. She glanced toward the hallway instinctively, checking if anyone was within earshot before lowering her voice.

"It has been empty, madam."

Pauline turned slowly, confused. "Empty?" she asked.

The maid nodded. "Since you left."

Pauline’s brows drew together, genuine surprise flickering across her composed expression.

"Benjamin doesn’t stay in the master bedroom?" she asked.

The maid shook her head. "No, madam. Master hasn’t entered the room after you left. Not even once."

She hesitated again, then continued, choosing her words carefully.

"He stays in the east wing. His study is there and—" she hesitated again. "He sleeps there."

Pauline didn’t interrupt her.

The maid swallowed. "In the beginning, Mr. Benjamin and Mrs. Olivia shared a room but that didn’t last long."

"How long?" Pauline asked quietly.

"Maybe for six, seven years," the maid said. "Since then, Mrs. Olivia has her own suite and master visits occasionally but he always leaves, doesn’t stay the night."

Pauline’s lips parted slightly but she didn’t say anything.

"They still dine together," the maid added quickly, almost as if defending the household. "Mr. Benjamin comes home every evening without fail. But after dinner, he goes straight to his study and works late, very late."

"And Olivia?" Pauline asked.

"She entertains guests, hosts events but keeps it to her wing," the maid said.

Then, softer, almost regretful, she added, "It is not a warm arrangement, madam. Not like how you and master were."

Silence settled between them.

Pauline looked toward the corridor leading deeper into the mansion—toward the staircase she hadn’t climbed in twenty years.

"So the master bedroom," she said at last, her voice steady again. "Has been untouched all this time."

"Yes, madam."

Pauline nodded once.

"Prepare it," she said.

The maid’s eyes widened slightly. "For—?"

"For me," Pauline replied calmly. "And my husband, if he chooses to remember where he belongs."

The maid straightened immediately. "Yes, madam."

As she turned to leave, Pauline added, almost absently, "And make sure it’s aired properly. Twenty years is a long time for a room to hold its breath."

When the maid disappeared down the hallway, Pauline remained where she was with one hand resting lightly against the counter.

The master bedroom had stayed empty not because it was abandoned but because it was waiting.

And for the first time since she stepped back into this house, Pauline felt something shift deep in her chest.

It wasn’t anger or resentment.

It was claim.

....

Benjamin arrived home earlier than usual which was a very rare event.

The guards straightened instantly when his car rolled through the gates and the front doors were already open by the time he stepped inside.

What greeted him wasn’t silence like usual, it was movement.

Voices echoed softly through the vast hall, footsteps crossing marble floors and staff moving with purpose. There were fresh flowers being arranged, curtains drawn open, lights turned on in wings that had remained dim for years.

And suddenly after years, the mansion felt awake.

Benjamin slowed, his gaze scanning the space with quiet intensity.

Olivia hurried toward him, her expression brightening the moment she saw him.

"You are home early," she said warmly, reaching for his coat. "Is everything alright? I didn’t expect—"

Benjamin didn’t answer.

His eyes moved past her, tracking the activity like a man counting pieces on a chessboard.

"When did this start?" he asked instead.

Olivia followed his gaze, her smile tightening slightly. "Start what?"

"The house," he said calmly. "It hasn’t looked like this in years."

She hesitated, "Oh—well, I told them to freshen things up. With the wedding coming, it felt appropriate," she said shamelessly, trying to take all the credit.

Benjamin’s attention shifted to a passing maid who dipped her head respectfully before hurrying away.

He turned to the butler who had just approached.

"Is Pauline here?" he asked.

The butler straightened, respectful in a way that carried old loyalty.

"Yes, sir," he replied. "Madam is in the master bedroom."

The words landed heavily.

Benjamin’s jaw tightened—not with anger, but with something sharper and unsettled.

He had been feeling a sense of unease since Pauline visited him in his office.

When he heard that she was in the mansion, he dropped everything and decided to come home early.

He nodded once. "That will be all."

The butler bowed and stepped away.

Benjamin didn’t look at Olivia as he turned toward the staircase.

"Benjamin?" she called, confusion seeping into her voice. "Where are you going?"

He didn’t stop, he didn’t slow or answer.

He took the stairs two at a time, his steps measured but urgent, leaving Olivia standing alone in the center of the hall.

The mansion buzzed quietly around her but for the first time in a long while she felt invisible.

Olivia’s fingers curled slowly at her sides.

Her eyes followed his retreating figure, bitterness rising sharp and fast in her chest.

The staff wasn’t looking at her, they were responding to Pauline the very second she stepped foot inside the mansion.

The lights, the preparations, the respect—it wasn’t for the wedding.

It was for her return.

And that realization twisted something ugly inside Olivia.

She turned slowly, surveying the space that had always felt like hers by default, if not by right.

Her jaw clenched.

Something has changed and if she didn’t act soon, she would lose far more than control.

She would lose her place and Olivia Reid had never been good at losing.

....