The alarm rang at six in the morning, sharp and unforgiving. Emma groaned, her body aching from the late shift she had worked the night before. She wanted just five more minutes of sleep, but she knew she didn't have the luxury. There were too many bills waiting, too many responsibilities pressing on her shoulders.
She sat up slowly, rubbing her tired eyes. The small apartment was quiet except for the hum of the old refrigerator in the kitchen. Her father was still asleep in the next room. The oxygen machine beside his bed made a soft, steady sound. It was both comforting and painful to hear comforting because it kept him alive, painful because it reminded Emma of just how fragile he had become.
She tiptoed into the kitchen, careful not to wake him. A pile of unopened envelopes sat on the counter. She didn't need to look inside to know what they contained. Medical bills. Late fees. Credit card warnings. She turned her head away quickly, as if ignoring them would make them disappear.
Instead, she focused on making coffee. The cheap instant kind was all she could afford, but the warmth gave her enough energy to keep going. She poured the steaming liquid into a chipped mug, then leaned against the counter with a heavy sigh.
Her life had not always been this way. Once, things were normal. Her father had owned a small repair shop, and Emma had dreamed of going to art school. But everything changed when her mother died suddenly, and her father's health began to decline soon after. The shop had closed. Their savings had drained away. And Emma, barely out of high school, had become the sole provider.
Now, at twenty three, she worked two jobs sometimes three when she could find extra shifts. She waitressed during the day, cleaned offices at night, and sometimes designed small posters or flyers for local businesses. She was always tired, but she didn't let her father see it. He already carried enough guilt for being sick.
Emma finished her coffee quickly and glanced at the clock. She had just enough time to shower and get ready before heading to the café for her morning shift. She pulled her long brown hair into a simple ponytail, slipped into her uniform, and grabbed her worn out sneakers from beside the door.
Before leaving, she peeked into her father's room. He was awake now, his frail body propped up against pillows. His eyes softened when he saw her.
"Working again already?" he asked, his voice weak but full of warmth.
Emma forced a smile. "Of course. You know me. Can't sit still."
"You need rest, sweetheart." His eyes flicked to the stack of envelopes on the counter. "I should be helping you, not the other way around."
"Don't think like that," she said gently, stepping closer. She adjusted his blanket and kissed his forehead. "You've already done enough. Let me handle things."
He nodded, but guilt lingered in his expression. Emma didn't let it show, but she carried the weight of his words with her as she left the apartment.
⸻
The café buzzed with noise when she arrived. The smell of fresh pastries filled the air, and the sound of clinking cups mixed with the chatter of early morning customers. Emma tied her apron quickly and stepped behind the counter.
Her boss, a middle aged woman named Carol, gave her a sympathetic look. "You okay, honey? You look pale."
Emma smiled, though her eyes felt heavy. "Just didn't sleep much."
Carol patted her shoulder. "Hang in there. You're one of the hardest workers I've got."
The compliment warmed Emma, but it didn't erase her exhaustion. She threw herself into work, greeting customers with a practiced smile, pouring coffee, and carrying trays of pastries to tables. Every step reminded her of how badly her body ached, but she refused to let it slow her down.
Halfway through her shift, she ducked into the back room to catch her breath. She leaned against the wall, staring at her reflection in a small mirror. Her face looked pale, her dark circles impossible to hide. She was only twenty three, but sometimes she felt twice that age.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, dreading what she might see. Sure enough, it was a message from the hospital: another overdue payment reminder. Her stomach twisted. She deleted the message quickly, as if erasing it would erase the problem.
"Emma! Order's up!" one of her coworkers called.
She slipped her phone back into her pocket, straightened her shoulders, and forced another smile onto her face before stepping out again.
⸻
By the time her shift ended, her feet were sore and her uniform stained with coffee. But there was no time to rest. She had only an hour before she needed to start her second job cleaning offices in a tall glass building downtown.
On her way there, she stopped at the pharmacy to pick up her father's medication. The total cost made her wince, but she handed over her debit card without hesitation. She couldn't risk him missing a single dose.
As she walked to the office building, her phone buzzed again. This time it was her best friend, Lucy.
"Emma, are you free tonight? Just for an hour?" Lucy asked, her voice cheerful.
Emma sighed. "I wish I was, but I've got work."
"You're always working," Lucy complained gently. "You need a break. Just one night."
"One day, maybe," Emma said softly. "But not today."
She ended the call with guilt pressing on her chest. She missed the old days, when she and Lucy would sit in coffee shops and dream about the future. But dreams felt far away now. Survival came first.
The office building gleamed as she arrived, its glass windows reflecting the setting sun. Emma swiped her entry card and stepped inside. The place was quiet, the daytime workers gone. She changed into gloves and started scrubbing desks, emptying trash bins, and vacuuming carpets.
As she worked, she let her mind wander. Sometimes she imagined what it would be like to live differently. To not worry about bills every second. To walk into a place like this not as a cleaner but as someone important. Maybe a designer, maybe an artist. Someone respected.
But the fantasy faded as quickly as it came. Reality was waiting rent, medical bills, and endless shifts.
By the time she finished, it was almost midnight. Her body felt like lead as she trudged home. The city lights glittered above her, mocking her tired figure. She wished she could pause, just for one day, but she couldn't. Stopping wasn't an option.
When she finally reached her apartment, she unlocked the door quietly. Her father was asleep again, his breathing even. Relief washed over her. She placed the new medication on the counter, then sank onto the couch.
Her eyes burned with exhaustion, but sleep didn't come easily. All she could think about was the mountain of bills waiting for her, growing bigger every day. No matter how hard she worked, she felt trapped like she was running on a treadmill that only went faster.
As she closed her eyes, one thought lingered in her mind:
Something has to change. But how?
She didn't know that life was about to throw her into the path of a man who could change everything. A man with more power and money than she could ever imagine. A man she should stay far away from.
But fate had other plans.