The night air was cold against my skin as Richard and I stepped out of the Port Towers. The glow of the gala still shimmered behind us, music, laughter, wealth spilling from glass walls like a world I was never meant to enter. My feet ached, my shoulders were sore from balancing trays and heels, but my mind was louder than my body.
I hadn't met him. Not really.
Just that glance. That impossible presence.
And somehow, I just shrugged it off, we won't be seeing each other again.
Richard walked beside me in silence, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He knew better than to ask questions when my thoughts were tangled, he was also deep in his thoughts. The bus ride home was quiet, the city lights blurring past the window like fleeting dreams. When we finally parted ways, he squeezed my shoulder gently.
"You did great tonight," he said. "Don't let anyone take that from you or let me keep some for you, he suggested?"
I smiled, small and tired. But I gave him part of the pay anyway, it is actually better to keep it that way, I have to have some money for myself also.
I got home close to midnight.
The house was quiet, but not peaceful. Silence here was never comfort,it was warning, something I have to discover. I slipped off my shoes, careful not to make noise, and went straight to the kitchen. From my bag, I pulled out the neatly packed leftovers from the gala… pastries, wrapped rolls, untouched desserts that smelled like money and indulgence.
A small victory.
I hid them carefully in the fridge, pushing them behind old containers, and I left some in the open, already imagining my father eating in the morning, if he was sober enough to notice.
Then,I went upstairs.
Lydia was waiting there for me,
She sat on the edge of the bed like a judge, arms crossed, eyes sharp. The lamp beside her cast shadows that made her face look harder than usual. Sienna lounged against the vanity, scrolling through her phone, chewing gum like life had never denied her anything.
"You're late," Lydia said.
I said nothing. I had learned long ago that silence was safer, to survive in this home.
"Where's the money?" she asked.
I reached into my bag and placed the envelope on the table. Not all of it. My heart pounded as I did it, she wouldn't know, but my hands were steady.
For the first time in a long while, I had kept some back. Not much. Just enough to breathe, save with Richard.
Lydia counted quickly. Her fingers froze.
"This is short."
"I had transport," I said quietly. "And food."
Her eyes snapped to mine. "Food?"
"For the house," I added. "From work."
Sienna laughed, sharp and careless. "Leftovers? From rich people's plates? How embarrassing."
Something inside me cracked.
"At least I worked for it," I said before I could stop myself.
The room went still.
Lydia stood up slowly. "You don't get to talk back to me in my house."
I met her gaze, my voice trembling but firm. "This was my house first."
The slap came fast.
My head snapped to the side, heat blooming across my cheek. Sienna gasped, more shocked than concerned. Something in me twisted with the sight.
Lydia's chest rose and fell, her eyes blazing.
"Never forget your place," she said coldly. "Without me, you'd be nothing."
I swallowed the pain, the humiliation, the familiar sting of being reminded that love here was conditional,earned only through obedience.
I turned and walked to my room before they could see the tears.
Inside the small space I called mine, I locked the door and leaned against it, breathing hard. My reflection stared back at me from the mirror,tired eyes, pale lips, a woman holding herself together with sheer will.
I thought of the gala again.
The wealth. The power. The conversations I had overheard. Mergers. Textile supply chains. Global expansion. I replayed every word in my mind, clinging to them like secrets, and noted down what I could remember.
One day, I would belong to that world,not as a servant, but as a force.
I check the floorboard where I have always hid little funds for myself. My escape fund. My proof that I wasn't completely trapped.
Downstairs, I heard Sienna's laughter, loud and careless as another boyfriend arrived to pick her up. She changed into men-like outfits, while I counted coins and dreams.
Life is so cruel.
I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, exhaustion settling into my bones. Somewhere across the city, the billionaire king was probably ending his night surrounded by power and fear, unaware of the girl who had looked at him once.
We would never meet again, I whispered to myself, giving myself assurance.
Our worlds were too far apart.
As sleep finally claimed me, one truth settled deep in my chest:
I would not remain under Lydia foreve
r, I have to leave.
No matter how hard it seems.