The Poor Girl Who Became A Lioness

The rain was hammering on our tin roof, and my mother's fever was burning her alive. We had no money for a doctor, not even for medicine. And on that same cursed morning, the richest family in this city offered me a job that would change my entire life. My name is Riya Sharma. I am twenty-two. I don't live in a house. I live in a place where no human should live. Behind the mighty Singhania Mansion, there is a small, dark row of servant quarters. The walls are damp and covered in fungus. The roof leaks every monsoon, and there is only one small window. That is my home for the last twelve years. My mother, Sunita Sharma, has worked as a maid there for eighteen years. She wakes up at 5 AM, cleans, cooks, washes expensive clothes, and never complains. My father died when I was ten in a road accident. Since then, my mother is my whole world. Everyone in the mansion knows me, but no one knows my name. They call me "Sunita's daughter." Not Riya. Just the servant's daughter. I completed my graduation with first class, studying under a flickering yellow bulb while my mother stitched clothes for fifty rupees extra. I applied for jobs everywhere. They smiled at my marks, but when they heard my address, "Servant Quarter, Singhania Mansion," their smile faded. "We will call you." They never did. That rainy morning, my mother was lying on the thin mattress, shivering. She had been coughing for three days. I was sitting on the floor, stitching my old college bag, thinking how will we survive this month? The ration was over. I felt completely helpless. At 10 AM, a guard came running. "Sunita! Memsaab is calling you inside. Right now." My mother could barely stand. I held her and we walked in heavy rain towards the main mansion. It was huge, white, with big pillars like a palace. We entered from the back entrance. The floor was marble and warm. Mrs. Anjali Singhania was sitting on the sofa. She looked at my mother with concern. "Sunita, you have such high fever! Why did you come?" My mother folded her hands, "Memsaab, you called..." Mrs. Singhania looked at me and said something that made the ground slip from under my feet. "Sunita, from today Riya will work inside the main house. My son Aarav needs a personal assistant. She is educated. You both will shift to the bigger room near the garden. It has two windows and a bathroom. And I will pay for your treatment." Thirty thousand rupees salary. A bigger room. My mother's treatment. For us, who struggled for 3000 a month, it was like God finally heard us after 22 years. My mother started crying, "Thank you, Memsaab..." But I didn't know this kindness had a price. And the price was her son. Aarav Singhania. Twenty-eight. Six feet tall. The sole owner of Singhania Group. Every girl in the city wants him. He is handsome, but his heart is made of stone. He is cold, arrogant, and he hates people like me. When I entered his study for the first time, my heart was beating like a drum. The study was bigger than our entire quarter. He was sitting there in a black shirt, working on his laptop. He didn't even look at me. "So you are the new charity case my mother brought?" he said, his voice deep and cold. "Listen, servant girl. Don't touch anything without asking. Don't look at me directly. And don't ever think this job makes you equal to us. You are a servant, and you will always remain one." His words were like slaps. My eyes filled with tears. I wanted to throw the files at his face and leave. But I thought of my mother coughing on the wet floor. I swallowed my self-respect. "Yes, sir. I understand my place," I whispered. He finally looked up. Dark brown eyes, full of anger. He stared for a second, surprised I didn't argue. He pushed a stack of files. "Good. Read these files and make a complete report by 5 PM. One mistake, and you are out. And your mother will also lose her new room." He was threatening me with my mother's room. I took the files with trembling hands and came out. My hands were shaking, but my mind was clear. I will do this. Not for him. For my mother. They gave me a small store room as my office. Full of old boxes, but it had a table and chair. I started reading. The files were very difficult, all business English with charts and legal terms. But I had topped my college. I forgot hunger and humiliation. I just worked. By 4:30 PM, my report was ready. Ten pages, neatly written. I knocked on his door. "Sir, the report is ready." He took it without a word and read for ten long minutes. No expression. Then he threw it on the table. "This is wrong." My heart sank. "Sir, where is the mistake?" "There is no mistake," he said coldly. "It is perfect. How did you do it? My last three MBA assistants from London could not make a report this clean in one day." I was stunned. "I... I just tried my best, sir." He stood up and came close. I could feel his expensive perfume. "What is your name?" "Riya. Riya Sharma, sir." "From today, you will call me Aarav Sir inside this room. And you will come at 9 AM sharp. Not 9:01. Understood?" "Yes, Aarav Sir." For the first time in 22 years, someone from the main mansion had asked my name. My heart was beating very fast when I walked out. But someone was watching us from the stairs. His fiancee, Nisha Malhotra. In a beautiful red saree, looking like a queen, with eyes full of poison. She walked down slowly and looked at me like I was dirt. "Who are you? And why are you coming out of Aarav's room?" "I am the new assistant, madam." She laughed cruelly. "Assistant? YOU? A servant girl is now an assistant? Aarav, is this a joke?" Aarav said nothing. He just stood at the door, looking at us. I felt so small. But something inside me broke that day. I had been silent for 22 years. "I am here to work, madam. Not to joke," I said. Her face turned red. "Don't you dare talk back to me! Know your place!" The whole hall became silent. "I know my place, madam," I said, my voice shaking but clear. "Do you know yours?" No one had ever spoken to Nisha like that. She was furious and raised her hand to slap me. I closed my eyes, waiting for the slap. But it never came. Aarav held her hand in mid-air. "Enough, Nisha. She is my assistant. Don't you dare touch her." Nisha looked at him, shocked. "You are supporting her? A servant over me? Your fiancee?" "She is my employee. That is all. Go inside." Nisha looked at me with pure hatred and ran inside crying. I was still standing there, shaking. Aarav looked at me. "You have a very big mouth for such a small girl. Be careful. Next time, Nisha will not leave you." "Sorry, Aarav Sir..." "Just go and do your work." I ran to my office and closed the door. My heart was beating so fast I could not breathe. I knew I had made my first enemy in this big, beautiful, cruel mansion. And she was the most powerful girl here. But I could not be silent anymore. Because I was not just a servant's daughter anymore. I was Riya Sharma.