Chapter Five
585 Words
Amelia had survived thirty-seven days in the Whitmore household.
Thirty-seven days.
Thirty-seven mornings of criticism.
Thirty-seven evenings of swallowing her pride.
And thirty-seven nights of reminding herself why she couldn’t quit.
Lucas.
MIT.
Rent.
Food.
Dreams.
Those four things kept her going.
She had learned Mr. Whitmore’s routine.
Coffee at 6:00 a.m.
Breakfast at 7:00.
Business calls until noon.
Complaints all day.
Silence by dinner.
And Olivia?
Olivia simply woke up looking for someone to blame.
“Amelia!”
She looked up.
Olivia stood at the foot of the staircase.
Holding her phone.
Angry.
“My charger isn’t working.”
Amelia blinked.
“Did you check the outlet?”
Olivia rolled her eyes.
“Obviously.”
“It still doesn’t work.”
Amelia followed her upstairs.
The charger wasn’t plugged in.
She plugged it in.
The phone started charging.
Olivia stared.
“Oh.”
“Right.”
Amelia smiled.
“It happens.”
Olivia folded her arms.
“Don’t act smart.”
“I’m not.”
“I just know electricity prefers being connected.”
Olivia scoffed.
“You’re annoying.”
Amelia laughed.
“And you’re surprisingly entertaining.”
Olivia almost smiled.
Almost.
But then—
The Wi-Fi stopped working.
Mr. Whitmore stormed downstairs.
“Again?!”
“I pay thousands every month!”
The internet company promised to send someone the next day.
Richard was furious.
He had an investor presentation in two hours.
He paced.
Swore.
Complained.
Threatened to change providers.
Amelia quietly glanced at the router.
Then at the blinking lights.
“Sir?”
“What?”
“I think I can help.”
Richard frowned.
“You?”
Amelia nodded.
“If you don’t mind.”
He crossed his arms.
“Fine.”
“At this point, my maid can’t make things worse.”
Twenty minutes later—
She logged into the settings.
Updated firmware.
Restarted connections.
Changed DNS configurations.
Ran diagnostics.
Internet restored.
Richard stared.
Olivia stared.
The housekeeper stared.
Richard frowned.
“How?”
Amelia shrugged.
“I used to study computer science.”
Silence.
Olivia laughed.
“Wait.”
“You’re serious?”
“You?”
“A maid?”
“At Columbia?”
Amelia nodded.
“Yes.”
Olivia’s expression softened.
For the first time.
She looked at Amelia differently.
Not as help.
Not as competition.
But as someone interesting.
Richard sat down.
“You dropped out?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“My parents died.”
“My brother needed me.”
Richard became quiet.
Then spoke softly.
“That was foolish.”
Amelia frowned.
“Excuse me?”
“You sacrificed your future.”
“People don’t reward sacrifice.”
“They exploit it.”
She stood straighter.
“Maybe.”
“But some people are worth sacrificing for.”
Richard stared.
For the first time—
He had no criticism.
Only curiosity.
That evening, Amelia received a text from Lucas.
Guess what?
She smiled.
What?
MIT deferred my camp payment deadline.
We still have a chance.
Tears filled her eyes.
Hope.
Tiny.
Fragile.
But still alive.
Then another message appeared.
Unknown Number.
Ms. Amelia Hart.
We received your application for a private residence house manager position.
The employer would like to schedule an interview.
Compensation: $7,500 monthly plus accommodation.
Amelia sat upright.
She read the message three times.
She had almost forgotten submitting that application.
She clicked the attachment.
Employer:
Blackwood Estate
Manhattan.
Owner:
Ethan Blackwood.
CEO.
Blackwood Technologies.
Billionaire.
Thirty-two.
Private.
Demanding.
Impossible to impress.
Amelia smiled.
Impossible.
She’d handled worse.
- Writer
