Lucia
My phone buzzed with a text from my sister, Adriana, right as I was wrapping up my third meeting of the morning.
Adriana: Guess what? Just booked us a week in Chicago! Pack your bags!
I nearly laughed out loud, glancing around to make sure no one noticed my smile. A vacation. After months of endless meetings, scheduling disasters, and back-to-back crises, I couldn’t believe it. An entire week of freedom? It felt like a dream.
Coffee is the only thing keeping me going. Being a personal assistant to a CEO is draining. Every day, I juggle impossible demands, last-minute changes, and a never-ending stream of emails that never seem to stop. Pretending I have it all together is exhausting. Inside, I’m drowning.
On top of everything, I also have to deal with Dominic Halston, a senior director known for his charm and his sharp business mind. Mr. Halston looked to be in his late forties. He was average in every sense: height, build, and features. When he smiled, it felt off somehow, tight at the corners, as if he were performing politeness instead of feeling it.
He appeared to have taken a special interest in me. He always finds some excuse to trap me in his office under the pretense of discussing “important company matters.” But the conversations go nowhere, leaving me drained and scrambling to finish my work late into the night. The worst part is, I can’t say anything. My boss adores him. HR practically worships him. To them, he’s untouchable. To me, he’s a shadow I can’t shake. And quitting isn’t an option at the moment.
After a long day, I’m headed to the Johnson’s estate, my boss’s house, to help my mom finish her shift. I do it because she needs me. She’s older now, and cleaning a mansion that size is no small task. I’ve offered to help her find another job, but she refuses. She says the Johnson’s treat and pay her well. At least Mr. and Mrs. Johnson do. Their daughter Catherine, my boss, that’s a different story.
Back then, my mom had just been recommended by another housekeeper who was retiring after years of loyal service. That’s how she earned the Johnsons’ trust in the first place. But when Mom asked if she could bring Adriana and me along, they hesitated. She gently explained that I wasn’t there to work in any real capacity, just to help with small tasks like taking out the trash. As for Adriana, there was no one else to watch us in the afternoons. My dad was working a second job, and we had no relatives nearby. It was either bring us along or risk losing the job altogether.
The Johnsons thought it over. In the end, they agreed, on a few conditions. Adriana and I had to finish our homework first. Afterward, I could help with simple chores, and Adriana was allowed to play quietly in the playroom, which they generously offered as our space during those hours.
I met Catherine on my first day at the mansion. I was thirteen, wide-eyed, and clutching a trash bag in my hands when she appeared in her pristine pink bedroom. Porcelain dolls surrounded her, each perched on a delicate shelf like a museum piece. She looked like one of her dolls with perfect blonde hair and icy blue eyes.
“What are you doing?” she asked sharply, her voice laced with the entitlement only rich kids seem to master.
“I’m just taking out the trash,” I said softly, already feeling out of place in her world of silk curtains and designer clothes.
“Get out,” she snapped, shoving me away from her dolls and pulling my hair.
I wanted to tell my mom, but she had enough to worry about. I figured I could handle a spoiled brat. What I didn’t realize then was how much worse it would get.
Catherine made my life hell. She’d wait until her parents or my mom weren’t around to show her true colors. Spilled juice? My fault. Missing earrings? Definitely me. Once, she even told her parents I’d stolen a bracelet, and the humiliation of their suspicion stayed with me for days, even after they found it in her purse.
By fifteen, I’d had enough. One day, I finally snapped and told her she had no right to treat me like garbage. Catherine just laughed, her blue eyes glinting with malice.
“If you tell anyone,” she said, her voice low and cold, “I’ll tell the debt collectors exactly where you and your family are hiding.”
She leaned in closer; her smile twisting cruelly. “I have connections, Lucia. I could make the call anonymously, and no one would never know it was me. And even if my parent found out...” she shrugged lightly, “do you really think they’d ever punish their only child?”
I froze. She knew. She knew about the debt collectors. From that moment on, I swallowed my pride and let her win. I didn’t have a choice. When I was fourteen, my family was financially hit. My parents were desperate. We were about to lose our home. There was no one willing to help us. No banks, no family, no one. So, my dad did the only thing he could. He borrowed money from people he shouldn’t have.
It was supposed to be a small loan. Something he could pay back quickly. But then the interest kept growing, and they added more to the debt. The threats kept coming. Every day after school, I’d see them parked down the street. Men in black cars were watching and waiting. My parents tried to shield me and Adriana from it, but we were aware. We heard the fights. We felt fear. Eventually, my mom begged Mrs. Johnson for help. She didn’t tell her the full truth. She just told them we were going through “difficult times” and needed somewhere to stay. The Johnson’s, being kind and generous, offered us the guest house on their estate.
It was supposed to be temporary, but somehow, we never really left. And somewhere along the way, Catherine found out. She had that weapon in her hand; she never let me forget it. Even now, years later, she’s still the same cruel, insecure girl she was back then. Anytime I step into that house, she’s ready with a sneer or a passive-aggressive comment. If her boyfriend glanced my way, she accused me of trying to steal him. If her parents congratulated me on my accomplishments, she sulked for a day and found some way to make me pay for it.
It’s exhausting dealing with Catherine and her moods, but I can’t stop. My family depends on me, and I’ve always known that as long as Catherine holds that threat over my head. I’m trapped like one of her porcelain dolls that she keeps in that room.
