Behind them, two older staff members stood frozen in shock. Even Richard Sterling, the billionaire himself, halfway down the sweeping staircase, stared in disbelief.
Aisha’s hands trembled as she steadied the silver tray she had been carrying moments before. A porcelain teacup lay shattered on the Persian rug. She had spilled tea—barely a splash—on the edge of Olivia’s dress.
“You’re lucky I don’t have you thrown out right now,” Olivia hissed, her voice dripping with venom. “Do you have any idea how much this dress costs?”
Aisha’s heart raced, but her voice was calm. “I’m sorry, ma’am. It won’t happen again.”
“That’s what the last five maids said before they left crying!” Olivia snapped. “Maybe I should speed things up for you.”
Richard finally reached the bottom step, his jaw tight. “Olivia, that’s enough.”
Olivia turned to him, exasperated. “Enough? Richard, this girl is incompetent. Just like all the others.”
Aisha said nothing. She had heard about Olivia before she came here. Every maid before her had lasted less than two weeks—some barely a day. But Aisha had promised herself she wouldn’t be driven out. Not yet. She needed this job.
