# Chapter 45: The Man on the Screen
Hello everyone, it’s me again! How are you all doing? Today I will continue to walk with you and review Chapter 45 of "The Housemaid's Secret" — a chapter that turns everything you thought you knew completely upside down. Buckle up, because this one is a wild, heart-stopping ride.
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Millie barely has the strength to stand. Her mind is still spinning from the interrogation with that smug detective, his accusations hanging over her like a storm cloud ready to break. She reaches for her phone, desperate to call Wendy. They had an agreement last night, didn’t they? So why is the detective saying things that completely contradict their plan? Was he lying to scare her into a confession? Or is something far more sinister at play? The phone rings, and rings, and rings... straight to voicemail. Of course.
With nowhere else to go, Millie drags herself onto the train back to her tiny Bronx apartment. She can barely put one foot in front of the other. Her bag becomes a black hole as she frantically searches for her keys for what feels like five agonizing minutes. She’s convinced she lost them. Just as despair sets in, her fingers close around the cold metal buried at the bottom. Thank God. Small mercies.
But the relief lasts all of two seconds.
“Millie!”
No sooner does she step into the building than her landlady, Mrs. Randall, bursts out of her first-floor apartment like a cannonball. She’s wearing one of those oversized, shapeless dresses that swishes around her ankles, her wrinkled face scrunched up in fury, her lower lip jutted out like a child who just had her candy stolen.
“The police were here!” she shrieks. “They made me open your apartment and searched everything! They had a paper! A paper telling me I had to let them in!”
Millie groans. “I know. I’m sorry about that.”
But Mrs. Randall isn’t having any of it. She narrows her eyes, suspicion dripping from every wrinkle. “You hiding drugs up there?”
“No! Definitely not!” Millie protests. *I just murdered somebody, that’s all. Sheesh.*
The landlady’s voice hardens into steel. “I don’t want any more trouble in my building. You are nothing but trouble. Two times the police are here because of you! I want you out. You got one week.”
“One week!” Millie cries, her heart plummeting. But Mrs. Randall is unmovable.
“One week, and I change the locks. Don’t want you around and whatever you do in that apartment of yours.”
Millie’s soul sinks into her shoes. Where on earth is she supposed to go? With everything hanging over her head, her reputation in tatters, her future uncertain... maybe getting arrested would actually be a relief. At least jail would give her a place to stay. And free food. There’s a dark, bitter humor in that thought.
She trudges up the two flights of stairs to her apartment, dreading what she knows she’ll find. And she’s not disappointed. The police didn’t even bother to put anything back in its place. Drawers are upside down, couch cushions scattered, papers everywhere. It looks like a tornado ripped through her tiny home. Cleaning this up will take the rest of the night. But Millie can’t even muster the energy to start.
She drops onto the sofa, completely defeated. Maybe she’ll clean tomorrow. Maybe never. What’s the point if she’s going to jail anyway?
She grabs the remote and turns on her crappy old television. Might as well spend her last night of freedom doing absolutely nothing.
But the universe has other plans.
The TV is tuned to a news station. And of course — of course — the murder of Douglas Garrick is all over the airwaves. The newscaster, with her shiny blond hair and serious expression, reports that the police are talking to a “person of interest.”
*Hey, I made the news,* Millie thinks grimly. *I’m a person of interest.*
Then the screen cuts to a video of Wendy. She’s speaking to a reporter, her eyes red and puffy, but the bruising on her face is completely gone — hidden under a thick layer of makeup, no doubt. Wendy turns to face the camera directly, and her voice, surprisingly strong and steady, seems almost foreign.
“My husband Douglas was an incredible man,” she says, her tone dripping with false reverence. “He was kind, brilliant, and we had been planning to start a family together soon. He did not deserve to have his life cut short this way. It’s not fair that he...” She stops, choked up by emotion. “I... I’m sorry...”
Millie stares at the screen, frozen. What was that? How can Wendy talk about Douglas like that after what he did to her? The man was seconds away from choking her to death when Millie ended his life! Why doesn’t she tell the reporter the truth? Why is she making him sound like a saint?
The video cuts back to the blond newscaster, her blue eyes locking with the camera. “If you’re just joining us now, our top story is the brutal murder of multimillionaire CEO of Coinstock, Douglas Garrick. He was found dead in his Upper West Side apartment last night, with a fatal gunshot wound to the chest.”
The screen flashes to a photograph of a man in his forties. The caption reads: “Douglas Garrick, CEO of Coinstock.”
Millie’s eyes lock onto the image. Dark hair. Soft brown eyes. A double chin. Creases around his eyes as he smiles for the camera.
And then, like a lightning strike, the realization hits her.
She has never seen this man before in her life.
The man in the photograph is completely unfamiliar. Sure, he looks a bit like the man she’s been interacting with in the penthouse. From a distance, you might not know the difference. But it’s not him. It’s definitely, absolutely, undeniably not him.
This is a completely different person.
So if the man on the screen is Douglas Garrick...
Who the hell did Millie kill last night?
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The chapter takes a chilling turn. A new section begins, and now we hear directly from Wendy.
“You must think I’m a terrible person,” she says.
Would it help, she asks, if she admitted that while Douglas never laid a finger on her, he was a terrible husband? He humiliated her. He made her life miserable. She would have been happy to get a divorce.
This did not need to end in his murder. That’s entirely on him.
And Millie? Well, Millie is an unfortunate casualty. But she’s not quite as sweet as you might think. If she spends her life behind bars, Wendy says, it’s for the greater good.
But even after hearing her side of the story, you might still think she’s a terrible person. You might think Douglas didn’t deserve to die. You might think Wendy is the one who deserves to go to prison for the rest of her life.
And the truth is... she doesn’t really care.
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## Reader's Impressions & Star Rating
Wow. Just wow. This chapter completely obliterates everything we thought we knew. The moment Millie realizes the man she killed isn’t Douglas Garrick is absolutely spine-chilling. The manipulation runs so much deeper than we imagined. Wendy’s confession at the end is cold, calculating, and deeply unsettling. She doesn’t care about justice — only about survival. And poor Millie, trapped in a web of lies she doesn’t even fully comprehend yet. This chapter is a masterclass in psychological thrillers.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.9 / 5 Stars
## Next Chapter Prediction
If the man Millie killed isn’t Douglas Garrick, then who is he? And more importantly, where is the real Douglas? Wendy’s cold confession suggests she had a plan all along. I predict the next chapter will reveal the true identity of the victim — maybe a hired imposter, a criminal, or someone else entirely. Wendy’s control over the narrative is slipping, and if Millie can piece together the truth, the entire house of cards may come crashing down. One thing is certain: Wendy is far more dangerous than anyone ever imagined.
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