Later that evening, while the other staff whispered in the kitchen, Aisha was quietly polishing the silverware. Maria, the housekeeper, leaned in and muttered, “You’re brave, girl. I’ve seen women twice your size walk out after one of her tantrums. Why are you still here?”
Aisha smiled faintly. “Because I didn’t come here just to clean.”
Maria frowned. “What do you mean?”
Aisha didn’t answer. Instead, she stacked the polished silver neatly and went to prepare the guest rooms. But her mind was elsewhere—on the reason she had accepted this job in the first place, on the truth she had come to uncover.
Upstairs, in the master suite, Olivia was already complaining to Richard about “that new maid.” Richard rubbed his temples, clearly tired of the constant fights.
But for Aisha, this was just the first step in a plan that would either expose a secret… or destroy her completely.
The next morning, Aisha rose before dawn. While the rest of the mansion was silent, she began her rounds—dusting the library, polishing the silver frames in the hallway, and discreetly memorizing the layout of every room.
She already knew Olivia would find something to criticize. The trick was not to react.
Sure enough, at breakfast, Olivia made a show of “inspecting” the table settings. “Forks on the left, Aisha. Left. Is that so hard?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Aisha replied evenly, moving them without a hint of irritation.
