I took a job as a maid in a mansion just to save my mom’s life. But the day the owner looked at my shoulder, everything shifted, and I had no idea what I’d just stepped into. Mom and I always lived modestly.
Well, if you could call it that. Sometimes our fridge was so empty, I couldn’t help but joke: “Hey, maybe there’s a portal to another life in there?”
Mom laughed, but her eyes always grew heavy. She’d worked at a sewing factory all her life until her health gave out.
All the doctors said the same,
So, I started hunting for a second job. Then a third. But let’s be honest — no one survives on what night-shift cashiers make.
One evening, I stumbled on an ad:
“Housemaid needed. Private estate. High salary.
Room and board included.”
The salary was so high, I blinked twice just to be sure it wasn’t a typo.
Mom nearly choked on her tea when I showed her the listing.
“You’ve lost your mind. You want to go work in some rich people’s mansion?!”
I closed the ad like someone might steal it from me.
“That salary equals three months at the supermarket. We don’t have time.”
She didn’t answer, just coughed, deep and ragged. The kind that echoed for too long in the lungs.
That sound haunted me all night. By morning, I’d packed. Before leaving, I paid a sitter and hugged Mom.
“She doesn’t let me eat anchovies.”
“Mom, salt is the white death.”
“And anchovies are my last romance. Don’t take it from me while I still have teeth.”
“I’ll call you, okay?”
“Unless they sell your organs first.”
“And what do you think it’ll be like? Living in a palace?”
“I have no idea.
But if he’s paying that much… Maybe he’s trying to buy a clean conscience.”
“I once knew someone like that. A millionaire with a conscience — a rare species.”
An hour later, the cab driver pulled up to the gates of the mansion. I was greeted by a tall blonde in a cashmere sweater.
For a moment, her eyes lingered on my face. Then flicked briefly to the sleeve of my shirt. Not curiosity. Almost… recognition?
But it vanished just as quickly. ***
In the first days of work, I felt like my hands had turned into a universal tool: scrubbing, chopping, wiping, sweeping, and polishing. There was a lot to do.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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