# Chapter 9: The Art of the Perfect Chicken Nugget
Hello everyone, it's me again! How are you all doing? I hope this story has been gripping you as much as it has been gripping me, because today we are stepping back into the Winchester household, where nothing is ever as simple as it seems. So settle in, grab a snack, and let's walk together through Chapter 9 of *The Housemaid* — a chapter of quiet tension, unexpected charm, and a surprisingly serious lesson about dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets.
Tonight, the house is still and quiet. Nina is gone, off to the PTA meeting that Millie accidentally sabotaged by throwing away her notes. She’s out with the other parents, which means the responsibility of dinner has fallen onto Millie’s shoulders. And you know what? The silence feels heavenly. There’s something about Nina’s presence that swallows an entire house — her energy wraps around every corner and fills every room. But without her, the Winchester mansion almost feels peaceful. Millie finds herself standing in that gorgeous kitchen, alone, searing filet mignon in a hot pan before finishing it in the oven. The aroma fills her nostrils, her senses, her whole world.
And for a moment, she thinks: *This job would be so great… if not for my boss.*
Then, as if summoned by the scent of butter and meat, Andrew Winchester strolls through the door. His timing is impeccable — right as the steaks come out of the oven to rest on the counter. He peeks into the kitchen, his eyes gleaming with appreciation. “Smells great — again.” There’s a little smile there. A little warmth. Millie feels something stir, but she pushes it down. She busies herself with the mashed potatoes — dripping with butter and cream and more salt than necessary — and then asks Andrew to call Cecelia down for dinner. She’s already called three times, but the little girl clearly only answers to her daddy.
And sure enough, shortly after Andrew calls her name, Cecelia’s quick little footsteps patter across the floor above.
So that’s how it’s going to be.
Millie plates the food. Steak, mashed potatoes, broccoli. She gives Cecelia a smaller portion, but she makes sure to include the vegetables. Because in her own childhood, her mother always insisted on a serving of vegetables at the table. A small, stubborn piece of tradition. And Millie wonders, briefly, if her mother is still looking back at everything she did wrong in raising her.
Cecelia appears in one of those ridiculously fancy pale dresses that clearly cost more than Millie’s entire wardrobe — a dress no child should be expected to play in. She sits at the table, primly placing her napkin on her lap, and for just a second, Millie is almost charmed.
Then the girl opens her mouth.
“Why did you give me water?” She wrinkles her nose at the glass. “I *hate* water. Get me apple juice.”
Now, if Millie had spoken to an adult that way as a child, she’d have gotten her hand smacked. But Cecelia isn’t her child, and Millie hasn’t yet earned her trust. So she bites her tongue, flashes a polite smile, and swaps the water for apple juice.
But Cecelia isn’t done.
She holds the new glass up to the light, narrowing her eyes like a tiny detective scrutinizing evidence. “This glass is dirty. Get me another one.”
“It’s not dirty,” Millie says, the strain already creeping into her voice. “It just came out of the dishwasher.”
“It’s *smudged*.” The girl’s face twists in disgust. “I don’t want it. Give me another one.”
Deep breath. Another deep breath. Millie decides she is not going to fight a child over glassware. If the little princess wants a new glass, she’ll get a new glass.
And then Andrew enters the dining room. He’s shed his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his crisp white shirt, revealing just the barest hint of chest hair. Millie has to look away.
Because men… men are complicated. Millie is still learning how to navigate them in her post-incarceration life. Actually, she’s not learning — she’s avoiding it entirely. At her old waitressing job at that bar — her only job since getting out — customers constantly asked her out. She always said no. There’s no room in her messy, fractured life for that. Not yet. And besides, those men gave her nothing but creeps.
She went to prison at seventeen. She wasn’t a virgin, but her only experiences were clumsy high school fumbling. During her years behind bars, she sometimes felt that tug toward attractive male guards — a deep, aching pull. And one of the things she had dreamed about while locked away was finally, someday, having a relationship with a man. Even just feeling a man’s lips against hers. Yes, she wants that. Of course she does.
But not now. Someday.
Still, when she looks at a man like Andrew Winchester, she can’t help but think about the fact that she hasn’t *touched* a man in over a decade. And unlike the grocers at the bar, Andrew isn’t creepy. He’s the kind of man she might actually want, when she’s ready. Except, of course, he’s married.
Then her mind drifts to Enzo — the gorgeous, mysterious landscaper. No real conversation, no shared language, but maybe that wouldn’t matter for one night. He seems like a man who knows exactly what to do without saying much. And unlike Andrew, he doesn’t wear a wedding ring — even though Millie can’t help wondering about that “Antonia” tattooed on his arm.
She shakes herself free from her fantasy, picks up the plates, and carries them to the table.
Andrew’s eyes light up like a kid on Christmas when he sees the perfectly seared steak. “This looks incredible, Millie!”
“Thanks.”
Cecelia, however, has the opposite reaction. “Yuck! This is steak.”
“Steak is good, Cece,” Andrew says gently. “You should try it.”
But the little girl just pokes at the meat with her fork as if it might leap off the plate and attack her, her face a mask of tragedy. Andrew sighs. A beat passes. Millie suddenly realizes she probably made a huge mistake — who makes steak for a nine-year-old? She assumed that because the girl lived in a mansion, she’d have highbrow taste. Wrong.
“Um,” Millie says, uncertain. “Should I…?”
Andrew pushes back his chair, grabs Cecelia’s plate, and announces: “Okay, I’ll make you some chicken nuggets.”
Millie follows him into the kitchen, apologizing profusely. But Andrew just laughs. “Don’t worry about it. Cecelia is obsessed with chicken — especially chicken nuggets. You could take her to the fanciest restaurant in Long Island, and she’ll order chicken nuggets.”
Her shoulders finally relax. “You don’t have to do this. I can make them.”
Andrew wags a finger at her, a playful glint in his eye. “Oh, but I do. If you’re going to work here, you need a tutorial.”
And so begins the most serious lesson of Millie’s culinary career.
Andrew wrenches open the freezer and pulls out a massive family pack of frozen nuggets. “See these? These are the nuggets Cecelia likes. Don’t get any other brand. Anything else is unacceptable.” He wrestles a frozen nugget from the bag and holds it up like a sacred artifact. “Also, they must be dinosaur-shaped. Dinosaur, got that?”
Millie can’t help herself — she smiles. “Got it.”
“Also…” He holds the nugget up for inspection. “You have to first examine the nugget for any deformities. Missing head, missing leg, missing tail. If the dinosaur nugget has any of these critical defects… it will be rejected.” He carefully lays five perfect nuggets on a plate. “She likes exactly five nuggets. Put them in the microwave for exactly ninety seconds. Any less, it’s frozen. Any more, it’s overcooked. It’s a very tenuous balance.”
Millie nods solemnly. “I understand.”
As the nuggets rotate in the microwave in their designated dance, Andrew glances around the gloriously renovated kitchen — which is at least twice the size of the apartment Millie was evicted from. He shakes his head. “I can’t even tell you how much money we spent on this kitchen… and Cecelia won’t eat anything that doesn’t come out of the microwave.”
The phrase *spoiled brat* teeters on the tip of Millie’s tongue, but she catches it. “She knows what she likes.”
“She sure does.”
The microwave beeps. Andrew pulls out the plate of piping-hot dinosaur nuggets. Then he asks, “How about you? Have you eaten yet?”
“I’ll just bring some food up to my room.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t want to join us?”
Part of her desperately wants to. There is something so effortless, so engaging, about Andrew Winchester. She wants to sit at that table, laugh with him, learn more about him. But deep down, she knows it would be a mistake. If Nina walked in and saw them laughing together over dinner, it would end badly for everyone. Not to mention Cecelia would probably make the evening miserable.
“I’d rather just eat in my room,” she says.
He looks like he’s about to argue, then changes his mind. “Sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ve never had live-in help before, so I’m not sure about the etiquette.”
“Me either,” Millie admits. “But I don’t think Nina would like it if she saw me eating with you.”
She holds her breath, wondering if she has crossed a line by speaking the obvious truth. But Andrew just nods. “You’re probably right.”
“Anyway.” She lifts her chin, meeting his eyes. “Thank you for the tutorial on the chicken nuggets.”
He grins. “Any time.”
With that, Andrew carries the plate of nuggets back to the dining room. And when he’s gone, Millie stands over the kitchen sink and gobbles down the remains of Cecelia’s rejected plate like a starved animal — the steak, the potatoes, the broccoli. All of it. Her grand, fancy dinner, consumed in shameful, delicious silence.
Then she retreats to her room.
But the night is far from over. And in a house like this, every quiet moment is just the calm before the next storm.
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**Reader's Impressions & Star Rating:**
Oh my goodness, this chapter was such a delicious mix of domestic tension and simmering romantic possibility! I absolutely loved the dynamic between Millie and Andrew here — the way he effortlessly takes over the chicken nugget crisis and turns it into this playful, almost intimate tutorial is so charming. You can feel the warmth growing between them, and at the same time, you can sense the danger hovering just beneath the surface. Nina is out of the house, but her shadow still looms over everything. And what about Enzo? Millie’s mind wandering to him while standing in the same kitchen as Andrew shows just how lonely and hungry she is for human affection — not just sex, but tenderness. This chapter is a masterclass in building quiet tension, and I can’t get enough! The pacing, the little moments, the way even a frozen dinosaur nugget becomes a symbol of family eccentricity — it’s all so vivid and addictive. I’m honestly torn between rooting for Millie to stay safe and rooting for her to follow her heart. This woman deserves so much better than her past.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.8 / 5 Stars
**Next Chapter Prediction:**
I have a strong feeling that Nina is going to come home from that PTA meeting in a *mood*. She already resents Millie, and after her notes were thrown out, there’s no way she’ll let that slide quietly. I predict the next chapter will bring an explosion of passive-aggressive warfare — Nina will probably question Millie about the dinner, scrutinize the kitchen, or make some cutting remark meant to put Millie back in her place. And worse, I suspect Nina may start digging into Millie’s past. The tension is bubbling, and it’s only a matter of time before it boils over. The real question is: will Andrew step in and protect Millie, or will he remain the forgotten husband who lets his wife rule the roost? One thing is certain — this calm night is about to be repaid with chaos.
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