# Chapter 36: A Midnight Call, a Nasty Surprise, and the T-Shirt That Gave Him Away
Hello everyone, it’s me again! How are you all doing? I hope you’re ready for another rollercoaster ride because today I’ll be walking you through yet another jaw-dropping chapter of *The Housemaid’s Secret*. Believe me, this one is a doozy. We’ve got a late-night phone call, a firing that’s not really a firing, and the creepy realization that someone—maybe the man himself—is watching Millie far more closely than she ever imagined. So grab a snack, settle in, and let’s dive right into the nerve-wracking events of Chapter 36.
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It was one of those quiet nights where Millie’s mind just wouldn’t shut up. She lay in bed, thinking about Brock. He was everything a person could ask for—kind, solid, loyal. The kind of man who would never run out on her when things got messy. But that was exactly the problem. She hadn’t told him a single thing about Wendy Garrick. And she knew, deep in her bones, that if she did tell him, his instant lawyer-brain would scream, “Call the police! Stay out of it!” Not exactly the help she needed.
As if on cue, her phone lit up. A text from Brock, popping in like a cheerful little reminder of her guilt:
**Love you.**
Millie gritted her teeth. *Oh my God. How many times does this man have to say it?* He wanted to hear it back, but the words simply wouldn’t come. Those two little words were holding her hostage. So instead, she snapped a selfie of herself making a kissy face and fired it off to him. That’s basically the same thing, right? Apparently not, because Brock instantly replied:
**You look cute. I wish you were here.**
And there it was again—that quiet little guilt trip. The constant reminder that she hadn’t moved in with him. That she was keeping him at arm’s length, and he didn’t even know why.
Frustrated, she tossed her phone aside and started to get up to brush her teeth. But then—*ring, ring, ring.* Great. Probably Brock again, wanting to come over. She was already rehearsing her gentle no when she glanced at the screen.
**Douglas.**
Her blood ran cold. Why in the world was her boss calling at midnight? There was no good reason. None. She almost let it go to voicemail. But curiosity—and fear—won out. She swiped to answer.
“Millie.” His voice was clipped, all business. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No,” she lied, heart hammering.
“Good. I’m sorry to call you so late, but I thought it’s better if you hear this now. After this week, we will no longer be requiring your services.”
Millie’s mouth went dry. “You… you’re firing me?”
“Well,” Douglas said, in that smooth, maddening tone, “not firing, exactly. More like letting you go. Wendy seems to be feeling better, and she would like to have some privacy in our own house again.”
*Right.* Millie squeezed her eyes shut. She could hear the subtext loud and clear: *Stay away from my wife.*
“It’s not that you didn’t do an adequate job,” Douglas added. Oh, gee, thanks for the glowing recommendation. “It’s just that a married couple needs their privacy. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
She understood perfectly. He was cutting her off before she could get any closer to Wendy. Before she could help. Before she could ask more questions.
“You understand, don’t you, Millie?” He pressed her like a thumb on a bruise.
“Sure,” she said through clenched teeth. “Of course I do.”
“Good.” His voice relaxed, almost jovial now. “And just to thank you for everything you have done for us, I’d like to give you a pair of tickets to a Mets game. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Millie blinked. “Yes,” she said slowly. “I do like the Mets…”
“Great! It’s all settled then.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good night, Millie. Sleep tight.”
The line went dead.
Millie sat there, phone still pressed to her ear, a cold unease creeping up her spine. Something about that conversation was deeply, deeply wrong. She couldn’t put her finger on it at first—but then she looked down at the oversized T-shirt she was wearing to bed.
A Mets T-shirt.
Her heart lurched.
She looked across the room at the window. The blinds were closed, as always. She never opened them at night. Ever. Especially not when she was changing. But Douglas had just offered her tickets to a Mets game. Out of nowhere. In that same weird, knowing tone. *You’d like that, wouldn’t you?*
Millie scrambled up, ran to the window, and cracked the blinds with trembling fingers. Outside, the street was dark and empty. No shadowy figures. No binoculars. No one staring back at her.
Maybe it was just a coincidence. She was from New York, after all. Who doesn’t like the Mets?
But no—it wasn’t a coincidence. She could feel it in her bones. Douglas knew what she was wearing. He knew what she did. Which meant he could see her. Somehow, *he was watching her*.
Her hands shook as she grabbed her phone and typed a text to Brock with desperate thumbs:
**Do you want to come over?**
His reply came instantly, like a lifeline thrown into dark water:
**I'll be there as soon as I can.**
For the first time all night, Millie let out a shaky breath. But the fear lingered, coiling in her chest like a snake. She had sworn to Wendy she’d never give up on her. But at this moment, she was thoroughly, utterly freaked out. And the worst part? She had no idea how much Douglas already knew.
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### Reader’s Impressions & Star Rating
Okay, let’s just take a moment to breathe. That chapter was a masterclass in slow-burn suspense. The way Freida McFadden plants that little clue—the Mets T-shirt—and lets it detonate in Millie’s mind? Genius. I absolutely love how the author makes everyday things feel sinister. A phone call at midnight, a casual offer of baseball tickets, a sleeping shirt—suddenly they’re all pieces of a terrifying puzzle. Millie’s fear is completely justified, and I found myself holding my breath right along with her. The emotional moment with Brock, the guilt, the isolation, and that creeping realization that she’s not as safe as she thought—this chapter delivers pure chills. I’m giving this chapter a well-deserved **⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.9 / 5 Stars.**
### Next Chapter Prediction
Oh, this is getting so tense! I predict that Brock will arrive at Millie’s apartment and she will finally, *finally* confess everything—about Wendy, about Douglas, about the strange control he has over his wife, and about the fact that Douglas somehow knew her T-shirt. But I’m also worried: if Douglas can see Millie, then he might also know about Brock. And a man who goes to those lengths to protect his secrets will not take kindly to two people ganging up on him. Get ready for a wild confession, a possible confrontation, or maybe even another shocking twist that turns everything Millie thought she knew on its head.
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