# Chapter 25: A Night of Champagne Dreams and Dangerous Confessions
Hello everyone, it’s me again! How are you all doing? Today I will continue to walk with you and review Chapter 25 of *The Housemaid*. If you thought we had already seen the last of the drama, think again. Because this chapter is so much more than just a fancy night out — it’s a shimmering, intoxicating evening of impossible wishes, uncomfortable truths, and one bone-chilling secret that changes everything. So sit back, pour yourself something nice, and let’s dive into this unforgettable night together.
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It’s a gorgeous June evening, warm enough to leave my wrap behind in Andrew’s car. I step out in my simple white dress, clutching a purse that really doesn’t match, and I already feel out of place. But when we join the line outside the theater, waiting to be let inside, I have no idea just how much my world is about to tilt.
Then we walk through the doors. And I gasp.
I’ve never seen anything like it in my entire life. The theater is an absolute cathedral of light and beauty. The orchestra seats stretch on forever, and above my head rise two more tiers, climbing all the way to the ceiling. At the front, a massive red curtain glows beneath luminous yellow light, promising something magical behind it. My jaw practically hits the floor.
Andrew notices. Of course he does. There’s an amused little smile on his face.
“What?” I ask, embarrassed.
“It’s just cute,” he says. “The look on your face. I’m so used to it, but I love seeing it through your eyes.”
“It’s just so big,” I mumble self-consciously.
An usher appears, handing us glossy playbills, and then he starts leading us forward. Closer and closer we go. Before I know it, we’re seated in the sixth row, so near the stage I swear I could reach out and grab the actors by their ankles. Not that I would. That would definitely violate my parole. But the fact that it’s even possible? That boggles my mind.
Sitting beside Andrew in some of the best seats in the hottest show in town, I don’t feel like a girl who just got out of prison. I don’t feel like the penniless housemaid working a job she hates. For the first time in forever, I feel *special*. Like maybe I deserve to be here. Like maybe, somehow, my life could have turned out differently.
I turn and gaze at his profile. This entire beautiful evening is because of him. He could have been a jerk. He could have charged me for the ticket, or gone with one of his wealthy friends. He had every right to do that. But he didn’t. He brought me here.
“Thank you,” I blurt out.
He looks at me, his lips curling into that devastating smile. “My pleasure.”
And for one perfect moment, I let myself believe this is real.
Then I hear a buzz from my purse. My phone. I pull it out and see a message from Nina lighting up the screen:
*Don’t forget to put out the trash.*
I grit my teeth so hard I could crack a molar. Nothing kills your fairy-tale fantasy of being more than a maid like your employer reminding you to haul garbage to the curb. Nina sends this exact message every week, without fail, even though I have never once forgotten. But now, as I read it, horror dawns on me. Tonight, in all the excitement, I actually *have* forgotten. I usually do it after dinner, and this entire evening has thrown me completely off schedule.
It’s fine, I tell myself. I’ll just have to do it when we get back.
After Andrew’s BMW turns back into a pumpkin.
“You okay?” His eyebrows are knitted together, studying my face as I read the text.
And just like that, all the warmth I was feeling evaporates. Andrew isn’t a guy I’m dating. He isn’t spoiling me with a Broadway show because I’m special. He’s my employer. He’s married. He invited me here because he feels sorry for me, because I’m so painfully uneducated and uncultured.
I can’t let myself forget that.
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Then the show starts. And oh my God.
The musical numbers are infectious. The dancers are electrifying. The actor playing the lead is so dreamy I can barely breathe. He’s gorgeous, charismatic, the whole package. But even in the middle of that magic, I can’t help thinking he’s somehow still not quite as handsome as Andrew.
When the curtain falls after three standing ovations, the audience floods toward the exits. Andrew stretches lazily in his seat, working out a kink in his back, then turns to me with those warm brown eyes.
“So how about some dinner?”
I slide the playbill into my purse. It’s risky to keep it, but I don’t care. I need something to remember this night by. “Sounds good. Do you have a place in mind?”
“There’s an amazing French restaurant a couple of blocks away. Do you like French food?”
“I’ve never had French food before,” I admit. “Although I like the fries.”
He laughs, and the sound is like pure honey. “I think you’ll enjoy it. My treat, of course. What do you say?”
Every reasonable part of me wants to say no. Nina wouldn’t enjoy finding out her husband took me to a Broadway show and then wined and dined me at an expensive restaurant. But then again… we’re already here, aren’t we? It’s not like dinner would make her any angrier than the show already would. So what the hell.
“Sounds good.”
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The restaurant Andrew takes me to is the kind of place I would never have dared enter in my old life. There’s a menu posted on the door, and I catch a glimpse of the prices before quickly looking away. Any single appetizer would financially ruin me for weeks. But standing beside Andrew, wearing Nina’s beautiful white dress, I fit right in. Nobody looks at me twice. Nobody asks me to leave.
As we walk through the entrance, I catch our reflection in the glass. We look *good* together. Honest to God, we look better as a couple than he and Nina ever have. Nobody notices that he wears a wedding band and I don’t. What they might notice is the gentle way he places his hand on the small of my back, guiding me to our table, then pulling out my chair like I’m royalty.
“You’re such a gentleman,” I remark.
He chuckles. “Thank my mother. That’s the way I was raised.”
“Well, she raised you right.”
He beams. “She’d be very glad to hear that.”
Of course, the mention of mothers drags my thoughts toward Cecelia. That spoiled little brat who seemed to delight in bossing me around. But even I have to admit, her mother tried to murder her. Cecelia has been through hell. Maybe that explains some of it.
The waiter arrives. Andrew orders a glass of red wine, so I do the same. I don’t even look at the prices. I’ve decided: this night is on him.
“I have no idea what to order,” I admit. Every single item on the menu is in French. “Do you understand this?”
“*Oui*,” Andrew says.
I raise an eyebrow. “You speak French?”
“*Oui, mademoiselle*.” He winks. “I’m fluent, actually. I spent my junior year of college studying in Paris.”
Wow. Not only did I never spend time studying in Paris — I never even went to college. My academic achievement is a GED.
“Do you want me to read the menu to you in English?” he offers.
My cheeks flush. “You don’t have to do that. Just pick out some things you think I’d like.”
He seems pleased by that. “Okay. I can do that.”
The waiter brings the bottle and pours us both generous glasses. I take a long sip, and oh my God, it’s incredible. So much better than the cheap five-dollar bottles I usually buy at the liquor store.
“How about you?” Andrew asks. “Do you speak any other languages?”
I shake my head. “I’m lucky I speak English.”
His smile fades. “You shouldn’t put yourself down, Millie. You’ve been working for us for months, and you have a great work ethic. You’re obviously smart. I don’t even know why you would want this job, although we’re lucky to have you. Don’t you have any other career aspirations?”
I suddenly become fascinated with my napkin, unable to meet his gaze. He doesn’t know anything about me. If he did, he would never ask this question.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
He hesitates, then nods, respecting my request. “Well, either way, I’m glad you came out tonight.”
I lift my eyes. His brown ones are locked on me across the table. “Me too.”
He looks like he’s about to say something more. Something important, maybe. But at that exact moment, his phone starts ringing.
He pulls it out of his pocket and glances at the screen. His expression tenses. “It’s Nina. I better take this.”
I can’t hear her words, but her voice is shaky and loud across the table. She sounds upset. Andrew holds the phone centimeters from his ear, wincing like every word is a needle.
“Nina, look… it’s… yeah, I won’t… Nina, just relax.” He presses his lips together. “I can’t talk to you about this right now. I’ll see you when you get home tomorrow, okay?”
He jabs at the phone to end the call, then slams it down on the table beside him. He drains half his wine glass in one furious gulp.
“Everything okay?” I ask carefully.
“Yeah.” He rubs his temples. “I just… I love Nina. But sometimes I can’t figure out how my marriage got this way. Where ninety percent of our interactions are her yelling at me.”
I don’t know what to say. Then, because I can’t help myself, I murmur, “If it makes you feel better, that describes ninety percent of my interactions with her too.”
His lips twitch. “Well, we’ve got that in common.”
“So… she used to be different?”
“Completely different.” He finishes his wine in another long swallow. “When we met, she was a single mom working two jobs. I admired her so much. She had a hard life, and her strength was what drew me to her. And now…” He shakes his head. “She doesn’t do anything except complain. She has no interest in working. She spoils Cecelia. And the worst part is…”
“What?”
He picks up the bottle, refills his glass, and runs his finger along the rim. “Nothing. Never mind. I shouldn’t…” He looks around the restaurant, desperate for a distraction. “Where is our waiter?”
I am dying to know what he was about to say. Absolutely dying. But our waiter rushes over, eager for the enormous tip he’s no doubt expecting, and the moment passes like smoke.
Andrew orders for both of us, just as he promised. I don’t even ask what it is. I want it to be a surprise. I’m impressed by his French accent, by how easily he speaks another language. It feels so far out of my reach. Probably always will be.
“I hope you like what I ordered,” he says, almost shyly.
“I’m sure I will. You have great taste. I mean, look at your house. Or did Nina pick out everything?”
He takes another sip of wine. “No, I own the house. Most of the design was done before we were married. Before we met, actually.”
“Really? I’d think a city guy like you would have wanted a bachelor pad before settling down.”
Andrew snorts. “No, I was never interested in that. I was ready to get married. In fact, right before Nina, I was engaged to somebody else…”
I nearly choke on my wine. Right before Nina? What does that mean? Did Nina break up a previous engagement?
“Anyway,” he says quickly, “all I wanted was to settle down, buy a house, have a few kids…”
At that, his expression darkens. Even though he doesn’t say it, I know he’s thinking about Nina’s fertility issues. The surgery that took away her ability to have more children.
“I’m sorry about the… fertility issues,” I say gently, swishing my wine. “That must be hard on both of you.”
“Yeah…” He stares into his glass, then blurts out: “We haven’t had sex since that doctor’s visit.”
I nearly knock my glass over. At that very moment, the waiter arrives with our appetizer — little golden circles of bread topped with a soft pink spread. But I can’t even focus on it after that confession.
“*Mousse de saumon canapés*,” Andrew says as the waiter leaves. “Basically, smoked salmon mousse on a baguette.”
I just stare at him.
“I’m sorry.” He sighs heavily. “I should never have said that. It was in really bad taste.”
“Um…”
“Let’s just… let’s just enjoy dinner. Please forget I said that. Me and Nina… we’re fine. Every couple goes through a dry spell.”
“Of course.”
But forgetting what he just told me? That’s an exercise in futility.
Because in one single evening, I have been given a glimpse into a marriage that’s dying by inches. And now, there’s only one question burning in my mind: what exactly was Andrew about to say? And what will happen when Nina returns home tomorrow?
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**Reader’s Impressions & Star Rating:**
This chapter is an emotional seesaw. One moment I’m swept away by the magic of Broadway and the thrill of a beautiful, impossible evening; the next I’m drowning in the uncomfortable intimacy of Andrew’s confession. Millie’s internal struggle is so raw and believable — she knows exactly where she stands, but her heart keeps wanting more. Andrew, meanwhile, is becoming dangerously vulnerable, and that secret about his engagement before Nina is a bomb waiting to explode. I loved every second, but I ended the chapter with my heart pounding.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.8 / 5 Stars
**Next Chapter Prediction:**
Nina is coming home tomorrow, and she already sounds furious. I predict a massive confrontation between Millie, Andrew, and Nina — one that will expose even more cracks in the Winchesters’ marriage. Meanwhile, Millie will not be able to stop thinking about that mysterious previous fiancée, and I suspect she might start digging into Andrew’s past. If she uncovers something he’s been hiding, all of her carefully built walls could come crashing down.
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