Sarah adjusted the crisp collar of her gray uniform as she stood outside the heavy iron gates of the Sterling estate.
The morning sun cut through the crisp mountain air, casting long shadows across the perfectly manicured lawn.
She took a deep breath to steady her fluttering heart.
Sarah needed this job more than anything else in the world.
Her bank account was empty, and her rent was two months overdue.
When the agency called about a live-in maid position for a wealthy family, she accepted immediately.
She pushed open the small side gate and walked down the wide stone pathway toward the main house.
The mansion was a sprawling structure of white stone and massive glass windows.
It looked more like a museum than a family home.
Sarah walked up the front steps and rang the brass bell.
A butler with slicked gray hair opened the door and looked at her with cold blue eyes.
Butler: You must be the new domestic help.
Sarah: Yes, sir, my name is Sarah.
Butler: Wipe your feet and follow me, Sarah.
He led her through a vast entryway lined with expensive paintings and marble statues.
The light streamed in from towering windows, illuminating every speck of dust on the floor.
Sarah kept her eyes lowered as she followed the man deeper into the house.
They entered a sunlit dining hall where a long mahogany table was set with fine china.
A woman sat at the head of the table, sipping coffee from a delicate porcelain cup.
She wore a tailored silk blouse and gold jewelry that caught the morning light.
Victoria: Is this the new girl, Thomas?
Butler: Yes, Mrs. Sterling.
Victoria did not turn around to look at Sarah directly.
She simply set her cup down and gestured toward the far corner of the room.
Victoria: The floors in the north wing need polishing before noon.
Sarah: Yes, ma'am, I will start right away.
Victoria: And make sure you stay out of the master suite entirely.
Sarah nodded quickly and picked up the heavy cleaning bucket near the door.
She began wiping down the baseboards along the grand hallway, keeping her head down.
The work was hard, but Sarah was used to physical labor.
As she scrubbed the marble tiles, she heard the sound of small footsteps echoing upstairs.
She stopped her movement and listened closely.
A young child was crying softly somewhere on the second floor.
The sound made Sarah's heart ache with a familiar, deep pain.
Seven years ago, she had been forced to sign adoption papers under extreme pressure.
She had lost her baby boy to a powerful agency before she even had a chance to hold him.
Sarah shook her head, trying to push the painful memory away from her mind.
She pressed her rag against the cold marble and continued scrubbing.
Suddenly, a small boy ran down the wide staircase, clutching a stuffed bear.
He stopped at the bottom step and looked around the empty hallway.
His soft blue eyes met Sarah's brown ones across the bright room.
Sarah froze, her breath catching in her throat as she studied the child's features.
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