# Chapter 67: Blood, Wine, and the Silence of Victory
Hello everyone, it’s me again! How are you all doing? Today I will continue to walk with you and review Chapter 67 of "The Housemaid's Secret." I hope you’re ready for a deep, dark dive into the mind of a woman who has just committed the unthinkable—and feels nothing at all.
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The steam curled lazily from the surface of the bathtub, wrapping around the two figures like a silk shroud. The water was hot, almost scalding, but to Wendy it felt like a baptism of pure satisfaction. They had done it. Douglas was dead. And for the first time in months, Wendy felt the world finally tilt back into her favor.
But Russell—poor, fragile Russell—was crying.
He sat across from her, shoulder-deep in the bubbly water, his eyes red and wet. He kept shaking his head, his lips trembling as if he couldn't quite process what they had just accomplished. "I just can't believe we killed him," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I've never done anything like that. Never."
Wendy watched him with a flicker of irritation. *Why is he crying?* She was the one who had done the actual killing. She was the one who had looked into Douglas's eyes and ended it. And she didn't feel sorry. Not one tiny drop of regret. Douglas had tormented her, trapped her, ruined her life. He deserved every bit of what he got.
"Pull yourself together," she snapped, the words sharp as broken glass. "What's done is done. He was a terrible person anyway. He was tormenting me."
Russell blinked, the tears still shining on his cheeks. "Because you cheated on him."
For a moment, Wendy felt a cold dagger of anger twist in her chest. *Because I cheated on him?* That was his excuse? He left her penniless, humiliated her, forced her into hiding—all because she had an affair? Of course, Russell didn't know the whole truth. He didn't know how she had lied to Douglas about not being able to have children. That was a secret she would take to the grave. It would only make Russell feel worse, and she didn't have time for his guilt.
"Look..." Wendy peeled off her towel, letting it drop to the floor with a wet slap. She reached for the bottle of maroon wine and topped off his glass, then filled her own. "Why don't you let me help you forget about it?"
She climbed back into the tub, the hot liquid welcoming her bare skin. Russell guzzled the wine, leaving a red stain on his lips. Wendy decided he had the right idea. She threw back her own glass, letting the cheap, bitter liquid burn down her throat. It wasn't a fine vintage, but she didn't need to savor it. After another glass or two, they'd both feel a lot better.
And she was absolutely right.
Two glasses later, Russell had stopped crying. He was smiling, his eyes glazed and heavy. Wendy herself had a pleasant little buzz humming in her veins. It had been so long since things had gone the way she wanted. The last six months had been a nightmare—living in that cramped apartment, faking illness, playing the victim. But today was a big win. Douglas was dead. A massive inheritance was coming her way. And Millie—poor, stupid Millie—was completely taking the fall for everything.
Millie had served her purpose quite well.
"I could stay in this tub forever," Wendy sighed, leaning back, her bare skin sliding against Russell's. "This is nice, isn't it?"
"Mm-hmm," Russell murmured, his head lolling. "Except I'm kind of sleepy. I might be a little drunk."
Wendy wasn't drunk, just slightly buzzed—exactly where she wanted to be. The bathroom was peaceful, warm, and quiet, except for some distant music playing somewhere in the house. It felt like the world had finally stopped spinning long enough for her to catch her breath.
Then Russell lifted his head, squinting. "Wendy. Isn't that your phone?"
He was right.
A familiar ringtone cut through the calm, the vibrations skittering across the marble countertop. Wendy knew who it was before she even saw the screen. Joe Bendeck. She had asked him to call her regarding Douglas's considerable estate.
A slow smile spread across her lips as she considered the irony. Joe had never liked her. He had always looked at her with suspicion, with judgment, as if he knew she wasn't good enough to be Douglas's wife. And now? Now she owned everything. Douglas's entire estate. His company. His money. His power.
She was essentially...
*The last word hung in the air, unspoken, as the phone continued to ring.*
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**Reader's Impressions & Star Rating:**
Oh, this chapter gave me chills. Wendy is absolutely chilling in the best way—cold, calculating, and completely unrepentant. The juxtaposition of her sitting in a warm, intimate bath with a crying man while feeling nothing but triumph is masterfully dark. You can almost feel the steam and smell the cheap wine, and yet there's this undercurrent of horror that she's so detached from what they've done. It's fascinating to watch her mind work, justifying murder and framing an innocent woman. The ending with the phone call is a perfect cliffhanger. I'm on the edge of my seat.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.8 / 5 Stars.
**Next Chapter Prediction:**
In the next chapter, Wendy will answer Joe Bendeck's call and have to play the grieving widow. But Joe is smart, and he won't be easily fooled. I predict he'll start asking pointed questions about Douglas's death, and Wendy will have to use every ounce of her manipulation skills to keep the spotlight on Millie. Meanwhile, Millie might begin to realize she's been set up, setting the stage for a dangerous cat-and-mouse game. Wendy thinks she's won, but the foundation of her victory is shaky at best.
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