# Chapter 73: The News That Changes Everything
Hello everyone, it's me again! How are you all doing? Today I will continue to walk with you and review Chapter 73 of "The Housemaid's Secret" — and oh, what a chapter this is. Buckle up, because the tension is rising, secrets are unraveling, and nothing — absolutely nothing — is what it seems.
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The question hung in the air like smoke: "Am I under arrest?"
The officer shook his head slowly. No, not under arrest. But Detective Ramirez would very much like to have a word. The emphasis was on "would like" — meaning it was my choice. A choice. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I had some control over my own fate.
I climbed into the back of the police car, the familiar weight of fear pressing down on my chest. But this time felt different. This time, I wasn't the terrified suspect being hauled in for questioning. I was a witness. A piece of a puzzle that was finally starting to come together.
My phone had been off all night — a deliberate choice, a way to disappear from the world while I tried to piece together the chaos of my own life. But now, sitting in that patrol car with the city lights blurring past the windows, I powered it on. The screen lit up like a small beacon in the darkness, and what I saw made my breath catch.
Missed calls from the NYPD. And twenty missed calls from Enzo.
Twenty.
My heart twisted as I scrolled through the endless string of text messages he had sent through the night. Each one was a desperate plea, a thread of worry woven through the hours of darkness.
*Where are you?*
*Do you have my car?*
*You took my car!*
*Please come back with my car. We will talk.*
Then, the words that made my blood run cold:
*Don't go to that cabin!*
He knew. Somehow, he knew where I was headed. More messages followed, each one more urgent than the last.
*Where are you? Very worried.*
*Please come back. Don't go to the cabin. I love you.*
*I will fix this. Come back.*
The messages kept going, on and on into the night. He had been awake half the night, consumed with worry over me. The weight of that — of someone caring that much, of someone being that afraid for my safety — settled heavily on my shoulders.
I owed him an explanation. At the very least, I owed him the knowledge that I was still alive.
My fingers trembled as I typed:
*I'm OK. In the back of a police car right now. Not under arrest. Your car is in front of my building.*
The reply came almost instantly, as if he had been staring at his phone, willing it to buzz with news from me.
*Where were your??????*
I could practically hear the frantic concern in those words, see the worry etched across his handsome face. I typed back quickly:
*I slept in the car. Everything is fine.*
Three little dots appeared on the screen — those dreaded bubbles that mean someone is typing. I held my breath, bracing myself for declarations of love, or perhaps a well-deserved scolding for stealing his car.
But what came next was something I never could have anticipated.
*Wendy Garrick is dead. I saw on the news.*
The words hit me like a physical blow. My fingers flew across the screen:
*What? How???*
One word answer. Simple. Devastating.
*She killed herself.*
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The interrogation room didn't seem quite as terrifying this time.
While I was in the patrol car, I had been voraciously devouring every news story I could find about Wendy Garrick's death. The details were gruesome, shocking, and yet somehow fitting for a woman who had caused so much pain.
Apparently, she had slit her boyfriend's throat first — a man who, until that moment, probably had no idea of the monster lurking beneath her beautiful surface. Then, in a final act of control, she swallowed a handful of pills. And she left a suicide note.
Not just a note. A confession.
This, I realized, added an entirely new dimension to the death of Douglas Garrick. A new dimension, a new perspective, a new understanding of everything that had come before.
I sat in that room for what felt like an eternity. Thirty minutes crept by, each minute stretching longer than the last, my mind racing through the implications of what had happened. Wendy Garrick — the woman who had seemed so perfect, so polished, so untouchable — was gone. And with her, perhaps, all the secrets she had been hiding.
Finally, the door swung open and Detective Ramirez strode in. His face still wore that serious expression, but somehow it didn't seem as ominous anymore. He just looked... perplexed. Confused. Like a man who had been certain he was solving one puzzle, only to discover it was an entirely different one all along.
"Hello, Miss Calloway," he said, sliding into the seat across from me.
"Hello, Detective," I replied, my voice steadier than I expected.
His brows knit together, a deep furrow of contemplation on his forehead. "Did you hear what happened to Wendy Garrick?"
"I did. It was on the news."
He paused, as if weighing his next words carefully. And then he delivered the revelation that would change everything:
"You should know," he said, his voice measured and deliberate, "that in her suicide note, she also confessed to Mr. Garrick's murder."
The words hung in the air between us, heavy with implication.
Wendy Garrick had confessed. The murderer of Douglas Garrick had been found. But instead of relief, I felt something else entirely — a tangled knot of emotions I couldn't quite untangle. Because if Wendy had killed Douglas, then what did that mean for everything else? For the secrets, the lies, the shadowy truths that had been haunting me?
The puzzle pieces were finally coming together. But the picture they formed was far more complex than anyone could have imagined.
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## Reader's Impressions & Star Rating
What a stunning turn of events! This chapter delivers the kind of twist that makes your heart race and your mind spin. Watching Millie piece together the fragments of this mystery while sitting in the back of a police car was absolutely riveting. Enzo's desperate texts were heartbreaking — you could feel his love and fear radiating through every message. And then that bombshell about Wendy's suicide and confession? Brilliant storytelling. Just when I thought I had everything figured out, Freida McFadden pulls the rug out from under me. The pacing is perfect, the emotional beats land with precision, and the cliffhanger leaves me desperate for more.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Rating: 4.9 / 5 Stars
## Next Chapter Prediction
Now that Wendy has confessed to Douglas Garrick's murder from beyond the grave, the entire case is going to be turned upside down. Detective Ramirez will likely have to release any remaining suspects — including Brock, whose involvement was always murky. But I have a feeling this confession raises more questions than it answers. Was Wendy acting alone, or was she protecting someone? And what about the secrets Millie uncovered in that penthouse? I predict the next chapter will see Millie finally freed from suspicion, but drawn deeper into the mystery of what really happened that night — perhaps leading her to uncover a truth even darker than Wendy's final confession.
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