"Elena!"
Her mother's voice rang from inside our tiny apartment.
"Yes, Mum, I'm coming," I called back, hurrying down the narrow hallway. On my way to help her with some clothes, I spotted Jamie slouched by the doorway, still in his school uniform.
I frowned. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in school, young man?"
Jamie sighed, kicking at the floor. "They sent me home. You haven't paid the rest of my school fees, remember?"
My chest tightened. He was right.
Maybe I should explain before you judge me.
My name is Elena Carter. My mum, Agnes, is a seamstress — hardworking, proud, but unable to make ends meet. Providing two square meals a day is already a blessing, let alone paying school fees, which often feel like a luxury.
We were doing just fine once. I had a job as a hotel receptionist, and later got promoted to concierge. But then everything crumbled. I lost my job the day I refused to give in to a man's advances. He wanted me to sleep with him in exchange for keeping my position. I said no. And just like that, I was unemployed.
…Since then, things have been rough. I managed to pay half of Jamie's tuition, but the other half is still hanging over us. Exams are next week, and if he doesn't return to school soon, he could miss them.
And I… I don't know what to do.
The next morning, after helping Mum finish a client's sewing order, I decided to step out. My chest felt heavy, like I was suffocating inside those four walls. I needed to breathe, to think, maybe even to complain a little.
So I called Ruth, my closest friend, and told her I was coming over. She was the only person I could unload my worries on without feeling judged.
On my way to her place, I walked past the bulletin board at the corner of Pine Street. It was cluttered with the usual—flyers for cheap apartments, second-hand furniture, dance lessons. I was about to keep moving when one crisp white notice caught my eye.
"Private House Help Needed. High salary. Discretion required. Apply immediately."
I froze.
The words were plain, but something about them felt different. The edges of the paper hadn't even curled from the weather—this was fresh.
My eyes slid to the bottom, where the name of the employer was printed in bold:
Adrian Knight.
The Adrian Knight. Billionaire CEO. Ruthless businessman. The man whose name people whispered with both envy and fear.
I blinked, my heart suddenly unsteady. A man like him… needing a house help?
I tore the slip of paper with the address and shoved it into my pocket, my mind racing.
I had no idea if this was a blessing or a trap. But one thing was certain: I couldn't ignore it. Not when Jamie's future depended on me.