CLARA’S POV
Many years ago.
I moved through Elite Mall in scrubs and an apron, mopping floors, wiping glass windows, hauling trash—anything that needed cleaning. The work was exhausting, my lower back aching with every movement, but I whistled a tune to distract myself from the pain.
This was just one of the many side hustles I juggled to make ends meet and help my family. It drained me, stole my time, and pulled me away from my academics, but I did it anyway. Because I had to.
My father couldn’t afford a lot of things. An extra job like this went a long way to help my parents. I was already grateful that they had the little money to put a roof over my head. This was the least I could do.
As I dragged the mop across the floor, my gaze landed on a mannequin in the far corner. A beauti
