Possessive over my maid

New job

Mia POV

Back to the Present

I hardly slept the entire night. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind dragged me back to the same place the job interview, the building, and the possibility that this might finally be my lucky break. For the last six months, my life had been nothing but hustle.

One casual job after another, sometimes lasting only a day, sometimes only a few hours. Still, I was grateful for every opportunity that came my way, no matter how small.

Mrs. Pierce had helped me with some money, though she always claimed it was insignificant. To me, it meant survival.

Without it, I honestly didn’t know how I would have made it this far. Not a single day passed without me walking around town, asking, begging, and hoping for work. The biggest disadvantage in my job search was my age. No one wanted to trust a seventeen-year-old girl with a steady job. Most employers looked at me like I was fragile, unreliable, or simply too young to handle responsibility.

I had grown used to rejection. Each “no” had hardened me a little, sharpened my resolve, and made me more determined to succeed. Even when I felt exhausted, even when hope seemed fleeting, I forced myself to get up and try again.

I took one-day jobs whenever they came, cleaned houses, worked temporary shifts, ran errands—anything legal that could put food on the table. I was always overly grateful, always eager to prove myself, even when people took advantage of that desperation.

Still, I kept going, because I had no other choice. Every day was a fight, a test, a challenge to see if I could survive in a world that didn’t seem to have a place for me.

Two months ago, things shifted slightly. My friend June, who worked at a café where I had managed to work for about two weeks, called me with news. There was a job opening—a maid position. It wasn’t glamorous, but at that point, I didn’t care. A job was a job.

She warned me, though.

“They want someone eighteen and above,” she had said.

That almost crushed my hope, but only for a moment. I was just a few months away from my eighteenth birthday. Close enough. I made up my mind immediately—I would apply anyway.

And now, here I was.

On the day of the interview, I was exactly two months away from turning eighteen. The thought of lying about my age flickered in my mind, but desperation outweighed honesty. I had no choice if I wanted this job.

I finally dragged myself out of bed in the small apartment I co-rented with a woman whose name I barely knew. She hadn’t been around for the past two weeks, and honestly, I didn’t ask questions. I had my own problems to worry about.

As I got ready, my hands shook slightly. I hadn’t expected to feel this nervous. I’d been to countless interviews over the past months—why should this one be any different? Still, my chest felt tight as I reread the email for the third time, making sure I hadn’t misunderstood anything. Time. Address. Instructions. Everything was clear.

At exactly 8:00 a.m., I stood in front of the building. My eyes widened. I had expected a modest home, maybe a quiet house tucked away in the suburbs. But this… this was a towering structure, sleek and elegant, a symbol of wealth I couldn’t even imagine. It was intimidating and awe-inspiring all at once.

“Oh my God…” I whispered under my breath.

I forced myself to stop staring and checked my bag, making sure everything was in place. My documents. My phone. My purse. Everything I might need for this pivotal moment. Before I could take another step, something hard collided with me.

“Ouch!” I cursed, instinctively grabbing my arm.

“What the hell!” a deep voice snapped.

I lifted my head, ready to defend myself, but all I caught was the broad back of a man disappearing into the building. Whoever he was, he didn’t bother to apologize. If I’d had the chance, I would have shown him his place in this world.

The past few months had changed me. I wasn’t the timid girl I used to be. Life had forced boldness into my bones, whether I liked it or not. Or at least, I hoped that was true.

Shaking off the encounter, I composed myself and entered the building. The polished floors reflected my uncertain steps, the marble walls silent witnesses to my apprehension.

“Good morning,” I greeted the receptionist.

She returned my greeting with a warm smile, instantly easing some of my tension.

“Good morning. How may I help you?”

“I’m here for the job interview scheduled for 8:00 a.m.,” I said, trying my best to sound calm and confident.

“Yes, of course,” she replied. “I’ll show you where it’s being held.”

She led me down the hallway and pointed toward a door. “You can go in and sit with the others,” she added before returning to her desk.

Inside the room were five girls. One glance was enough to tell that they were all older than me. My nerves spiked again. I still couldn’t understand why a maid interview was being held in a place like this. Was it possible I had misunderstood the email?

I turned to the girl nearest to me, intending to ask a question, but before I could speak, the door opened.

A woman who looked to be around forty stepped inside.

“Good morning, everyone,” she greeted.

Her voice sent a jolt of recognition through me. She was the one who had called me the previous day to confirm the interview.

“I hope you’re all ready,” she continued. “The interview will begin in about ten minutes. Please be prepared.”

With that, she left the room.

My heart began to race. So much for confidence. It felt like an act now—one that was quickly falling apart. I had been through countless interviews, but this one felt different. Heavier. More important.

Soon, the interviews began. One by one, names were called. The first three girls returned with disappointed expressions, and that alone made my anxiety worse.

Please don’t let me walk out like that, I prayed silently.

“Mia Anderson.”

My breath hitched. I hadn’t even noticed when the woman returned.

“Yes—yes, I’m here, ma’am,” I replied, my panic obvious.

The remaining girls giggled quietly, but I ignored them. I’d survived far worse than mockery.

“You may go in,” the woman said.

I stepped into the interview room. Four women sat behind a long table, each with a notepad and pen. The one at the far end immediately drew my attention. She looked to be about fifty years old, calm and authoritative. Something about her presence suggested she was in charge.

“So,” she began without delay, “how old are you?”

“Eighteen,” I answered smoothly. I had already decided to lie. I was tired of losing opportunities because of my age.

She studied me closely. “You look younger than that.”

“I turned eighteen four months ago,” I added quickly.

After a brief pause, she nodded. “Alright.”

“Have you ever worked as a maid before?” another woman asked while writing on her notepad.

“Not exactly,” I admitted, “but I’m a fast learner, and I believe I can do the job well.”

The questions that followed were surprisingly simple. Nothing intimidating. They asked about my experience, my availability, my character. Thirty minutes passed quickly. Then the women leaned toward each other, discussing something in low voices for about ten minutes.

My palms were sweaty. I felt like I was on trial, every heartbeat echoing loudly in my ears.

Finally, the woman at the end looked at me.

“We’ve reached a decision,” she said. “We would like to offer you the job.”

For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

“Thank you so much,” I said, barely containing my excitement. “I promise to do my very best.”

“Before anything else,” the shorter woman in the middle spoke for the first time, “you need to understand where you’ll be working.”

She explained that the interview hadn’t taken place at the house because it was undergoing renovations. I would be working for two people, but mainly one, and accommodation would be provided.

By the time I left the building, everything felt unreal. I had the job. All I needed to do was go home, collect my belongings, and report back by 5:00 p.m.

For the first time in months, hope felt real. I wasn’t sure what awaited me in this new place, but I knew one thing, I was ready to face it.