Possessive over my maid

MIA POV "Hello, good morning, Miss Mia Anderson. I’m calling to let you know that your application was received, and we’ve responded to your email." I couldn’t believe my ears. After almost two whole months, my application had finally been answered. Two months of waiting, hoping, sending countless applications, and hearing nothing back… and now this. It felt surreal. I had been looking for a job for six long months, and luck had never seemed to be on my side—until now. Before I go on, I suppose I should introduce myself properly. My name is Mia Anderson, and I am seventeen years old. I’ve never seen a photograph of my parents. I don’t even know what they looked like. My life has always been lived under the shadow of strangers I call family—my uncle, his wife, and their son. For seventeen years, I have endured a nightmare of a life. They treated me like I didn’t belong, like I wasn’t even human. I cooked, cleaned, and tolerated the endless insults and cruel words they threw at me daily. For a long time, I endured it quietly, clinging to the hope that one day, my life would change. But patience is a fragile thing, and one day, mine snapped. Flashback: Six Months Ago I woke up before sunrise, as I always did—earlier than anyone else in the house. By the time the rest of the family stirred, breakfast had to be ready, and the laundry had to be done. You might think it’s simple work, but you’d be wrong. My uncle and aunt ran a small motel nearby, and the laundry often included the sheets from there. Sheets used in… activities I try not to think about. By the end of the day, my arms ached, my back screamed, and exhaustion was my constant companion. My cousin, Matt, who was nineteen, worked at the motel after college—or rather, spent his time there. From what I saw, he wasn’t exactly working. He was always with women, wasting his time while I scrubbed floors and washed sheets. One morning, as I was wringing out the last of the laundry, my aunt’s voice pierced the quiet of the house. "MIA!!" she screamed. I froze. I had grown so accustomed to her shouting that I sometimes didn’t answer. But this time, I had no choice. I trudged to the sitting room where they were all having breakfast. "Where have you been?" she demanded, her eyes sharp and accusing. "I was…" I started, but my uncle cut me off. "Save it. That’s how you always are. How I wish you had died with your parents in that damn bombing," he spat, his words like ice. They never let me forget. My parents were gone, victims of a war that had torn everything apart, and according to them, it was my fault I survived. "You have to get ready. We’re going somewhere," my aunt added, her tone cold but commanding. I raised an eyebrow. They rarely took me anywhere. What could this possibly mean? She handed me a dress. A simple round dress that fell just above my knees. It was… beautiful. I had never owned clothes like this, never had the chance to feel pretty. For a moment, I allowed myself a small smile. * By the time we finished the chores and I showered, they were all dressed neatly, looking like they belonged somewhere important. I followed silently, curiosity prickling at the edges of my fear. We drove for an hour, and the city passed by in a blur of unfamiliar streets. Eventually, we arrived at a place that made my breath catch. It was the most beautiful mansion I had ever seen—luxurious, immaculate, and guarded. "This place is more beautiful than I thought," my aunt murmured, gazing at the mansion. "How I wish we could get a place like this," Matt said casually, still absorbed in his phone. The gates opened, revealing several guards. My heart pounded. This was no ordinary house. "You should behave when we get there," my aunt whispered. I rolled my eyes subtly. I was sixteen, almost seventeen, and I knew how to behave. I nodded politely and followed them inside. * The interior was even more extravagant. Every corner was meticulously decorated, every piece of furniture carefully chosen. It screamed wealth, power, and taste. And then I saw them—two men holding pistols, standing rigidly near the doors. My pulse quickened. We were led to a large room where a man sat behind a polished desk. He looked to be in his early forties, dressed in a black suit with sunglasses that made his eyes impossible to read. Four more men, all armed, stood around him like statues of intimidation. "Welcome, Mr. Anderson," the man said, his voice calm but commanding. "Ah, and Mrs. Anderson and Matt… and this beautiful young lady?" His gaze fell on me. I blinked, unsure how to respond. "Thank you," my uncle said quickly, as if on cue. "It’s a pleasure to be here." I stayed quiet, my eyes scanning the room, trying to understand what was happening. The man behind the desk—Mr. Adkins, as my uncle later said—radiated authority. Every inch of him screamed control, wealth, and danger. "Hope you brought my cheque," Mr. Adkins said, his tone no longer friendly. My uncle chuckled softly, a smug, practiced laugh. "We have a better payment than you might expect." He glanced at me. I frowned, unsure what he meant. But something in the air told me this was no ordinary meeting. --- The room fell into a tense silence. I studied Mr. Adkins more carefully now. He was sharp, impeccably dressed, and exuded power. His sunglasses reflected the room like a dark mirror, hiding any emotion. I felt a chill run down my spine. I noticed the guards, each perfectly still, each armed. My mind raced. This wasn’t just a wealthy man—it was something far more dangerous. Mafia, maybe? The word had crossed my mind before, in stories and movies, but seeing it in real life was another thing entirely. My uncle began to talk business. I couldn’t hear everything, but the words “payment,” “deal,” and “transaction” floated through the room. I felt small and invisible, yet hyper-aware of every sound, every movement. Mr. Adkins finally addressed me directly, his voice smoother now, but no less commanding. "And you are…?" "Mia Anderson," I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. He studied me, his gaze intense. "Interesting. You have… a certain resilience." I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or a warning. --- After the meeting, as we left, my mind was a whirlwind. I had stepped into a world far beyond my small, miserable life—a world of power, danger, and opportunity. Something told me that my life would never be the same again. For the first time, I felt a flicker of hope. A chance to escape the constant abuse, to carve a path for myself. And maybe, just maybe, to prove that Mia Anderson was not someone to be underestimated. That night, as I lay in bed, I thought about the luxurious mansion, the intimidating Mr. Adkins, and the strange mix of fear and excitement swirling in my chest. My life was about to change and whether for better or worse, I wasn’t yet sure. All I knew was that for the first time, I didn’t feel completely powerless. And that… was terrifying.