“What kind of job is it, dear?” she asked in a raspy breath.

“A housekeeping position at a large estate up in the High Crest area,” Maya replied, checking her shoes.

Catherine studied her granddaughter for a long moment, noting the exhaustion lingering around her eyes.

“Wear your hair tied back tightly, and don’t smile too much at first,” she warned. “The wealthy rarely trust anyone who looks too kind too quickly.”

Maya laughed under her breath at the cynicism, even though she knew her grandmother was probably right.

“Thanks for the advice, Grandma,” she said with a small nod.

“And don’t sign any legal documents without reading them thoroughly,” Catherine continued. “Tell me—how much are they paying you?”

When Maya told her the salary, Catherine went completely silent for a long time. Then she said only one thing, and it carried the weight of a final decision.

“Then you go, and you make sure you stay there.”

That night, Maya turned off the hallway light and listened to the steady, rhythmic sound of her grandmother’s oxygen machine. For two years, that sound had filled their lonely nights.

Maya had left nursing school in her third year—not because she lacked the talent, but because someone had to look after Catherine. The medicine was terribly expensive, the rent was always behind, and this job could finally change everything for them.

The next morning, Mrs. Gordon opened the grand mansion door before Maya could even finish ringing the chime. She was thin, polished, and severe, with the kind of aura that could judge a person’s entire life in three seconds.