9
1457 Words
I walked back to the penthouse with my thoughts in complete disarray.
The doctor’s words refused to leave my mind.
“If we don’t begin the next phase immediately… I’m not sure how much longer your mother has.”
The sentence echoed in my head over and over until it felt impossible to think about anything else. Every step I took felt heavier than the last.
Where was I supposed to get that kind of money?
My salary at the Hartwell Penthouse was more than I had ever earned at the café, but even if I saved every single cent, it still wouldn’t be enough to pay for the surgery.
The realization crushed me.
For the first time in a long while, I truly felt hopeless.
I had promised myself that everything would get better after getting this job. I had endured Vanessa’s insults, her impossible demands, and the humiliation that came with working under her because I believed it would all be worth it if my mother could recover.
But now…
It still wasn’t enough.
By the time I reached the penthouse, I barely noticed the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. I quickly wiped them away with the back of my hand before pushing the front door open.
The sound of laughter greeted me immediately.
The spacious living room had been transformed into a luxurious afternoon gathering. Several elegantly dressed women lounged comfortably on the expensive cream sofas, each holding a crystal glass filled with champagne. Designer handbags worth more than my annual salary rested carelessly on the coffee table while soft classical music drifted through the room.
Vanessa was entertaining her friends.
The moment I stepped inside, the laughter faded.
Every pair of eyes turned toward me.
I instantly lowered my gaze.
“And where are you coming from?”
Vanessa’s voice sliced through the silence.
I looked up slowly.
She was seated gracefully with one leg crossed over the other, a glass of champagne balanced delicately in her hand. Her lips curved into a smile that looked pleasant to everyone else.
But I knew better.
That smile never meant anything good.
“I… I went to see my mother, ma’am.”
“Oh?”
She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
“And left work?”
“The head butler gave me permission.”
A few of the women exchanged amused glances before covering their smiles with their glasses.
Vanessa let out a soft laugh and took another sip of champagne.
“But you don’t work for the butler.”
The room became silent again.
“You work for this house,” she continued, slowly placing her glass on the table. “And in this house, I give the orders.”
“I understand, ma’am.”
“Do you?”
She stood elegantly and walked toward me, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.
Every step made my heartbeat faster.
“Because from where I’m standing,” she said, stopping directly in front of me, “it looks like you’ve become very comfortable doing whatever you please.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Don’t interrupt me.”
The sharpness in her voice made me stop instantly.
My words died in my throat.
Vanessa folded her arms across her chest.
“If you have enough time to disappear during working hours, then you certainly have enough energy to serve my guests.”
She smiled sweetly.
“Go to the kitchen and bring refreshments.”
Relieved that she wasn’t firing me, I nodded immediately.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I hurried into the kitchen, arranged fresh drinks, pastries, fruit, and snacks onto a large silver tray before carefully carrying everything into the living room.
I had barely placed the tray on the coffee table before Vanessa frowned.
“Maya.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Did anyone teach you how to serve?”
I blinked.
“I’m… sorry?”
She picked up one of the champagne glasses, examined it for barely a second, then placed it back down with obvious disappointment.
“The champagne isn’t cold enough.”
One of her friends laughed softly.
“Oh dear,” she said. “Where did you find her?”
Another woman shook her head dramatically.
“I’ve honestly seen better service at roadside cafés.”
The women burst into laughter.
Heat rushed to my cheeks.
“I’m sorry. I’ll bring another bottle.”
“Obviously.”
I hurried back into the kitchen, found another bottle that had been chilled, and rushed back.
This time, before I could even begin pouring the drinks, Vanessa sighed dramatically.
“The glasses.”
I froze.
“What about them?”
“They’re the wrong ones.”
The women laughed again.
“I specifically wanted crystal flutes.”
“I… I didn’t know.”
“Clearly.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat before carrying everything back to the kitchen once more.
By the time I returned with the correct glasses, another guest wrinkled her nose.
“The cheese platter is missing grapes.”
“And these crackers are stale,” another complained.
Before I could apologize, one of the women chuckled.
“They’re perfectly fine. Vanessa’s just making the poor girl run around.”
Vanessa smiled without an ounce of guilt.
“Oh, I know.”
Her eyes met mine.
“It’s entertaining.”
More laughter filled the room.
Every trip back to the kitchen made my legs feel heavier.
Every order became more ridiculous than the last.
Fresh fruit.
Different napkins.
More ice.
No, less ice.
Sparkling water.
Actually, still water.
Another bottle of champagne.
Not that bottle.
The imported one.
Each time I thought I had done everything correctly, someone found another reason to send me back.
I was exhausted.
My feet throbbed inside my shoes.
My shoulders ached from carrying heavy trays.
My hands trembled every time I reached for another glass.
Still…
I kept my head down.
I needed this job.
I needed it far more than I needed my pride.
As I bent down to place another tray on the coffee table, Vanessa suddenly clicked her tongue.
“Oh, honestly.”
She picked up one of the dessert forks between two fingers as though it were something disgusting.
“Look at this.”
The room fell quiet.
She held it up for everyone to see.
“There’s a stain on it.”
I stared at the fork in confusion.
I couldn’t see anything.
Not a fingerprint.
Not a stain.
Nothing.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’ll replace it.”
“You should be sorry.”
Her voice became colder.
“Are you trying to make me sick?”
“No, ma’am.”
I reached for the fork.
Before my fingers could touch it, Vanessa stood.
She walked toward me slowly until she was standing only inches away.
Her expensive perfume filled my nose.
“You are still so clumsy.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll get another one.”
“You’re incompetent.”
She looked straight into my eyes as she said it.
“So unbelievably incompetent.”
Each word struck harder than the last.
“So pathetic.”
My throat tightened.
I could feel every one of her friends watching me.
Watching me struggle not to cry.
Vanessa leaned closer until only I could hear her.
“No matter how hard you try,” she whispered, “you’ll always be nothing more than a poor, incompetent little maid.”
My eyes burned.
I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood.
I refused to cry.
Not in front of her.
One of her friends shifted uncomfortably.
“Vanessa,” she said with a nervous laugh, “you’re being a little hard on her.”
“Am I?”
Vanessa didn’t take her eyes off me.
“I simply hate incompetent people. If she’s going to work in my house, then perhaps she should learn to do something right for once.”
Something inside me snapped.
The fear.
The humiliation.
The frustration.
Everything I had swallowed since the day I met her finally boiled over.
Before I could stop myself, the words escaped my mouth.
“You’re just being a mean b***h to me.”
The room froze.
Every face turned toward Vanessa.
For one heartbeat, complete silence filled the living room.
Vanessa’s expression hardened.
The smile disappeared from her face.
Without warning—
CRACK!
Her palm slammed across my cheek with so much force that my head whipped to the side.
Pain exploded across my face.
The silver tray slipped from my trembling hands.
Crystal glasses crashed onto the marble floor, shattering into hundreds of glittering pieces.
And the entire room fell into a stunned, deathly silence.
- Writer
