Mom and I lived a simple life, though sometimes it hardly felt that way. Our fridge was often so bare that I joked, “Maybe there’s a portal to another life in there?”

Mom laughed, but her eyes always grew heavy. She had worked in a sewing factory all her life, but her health had finally given out. Every doctor said the same thing:

“She needs surgery as soon as possible.”

I had no choice but to find another job. Then another. But let’s be honest — night-shift cashier jobs don’t pay nearly enough. One evening, I found an ad:

“Housemaid needed. Private estate. High salary. Room and board included.”

The salary was so high, I had to blink twice to make sure it wasn’t a mistake. Mom nearly spit out her tea when I showed her the ad.

“You want to work in a mansion for some rich people?” she said, incredulously.

I quickly closed the ad as if someone might snatch it away.

“That salary is worth three months at the supermarket. We don’t have time.”

She didn’t respond, only coughing deeply, a sound that echoed in her chest. That noise stayed with me all night. By morning, I had packed my things.

Before I left, I arranged for a sitter and gave Mom a hug.

“It’ll be fine. Just listen to Rose.”

“She won’t let me eat anchovies.”

“Mom, too much salt is bad for you.”

“Anchovies are my last romance. Don’t take them from me while I still have teeth.”

“I’ll call you, okay?”

“Unless they sell your organs first.”

“Mom!”

“And what do you think it’ll be like? Living in a palace?”

“I don’t know. But if he’s paying that much, maybe he’s just trying to buy a clean conscience.”

“I once knew a millionaire like that. Rare breed.”

An hour later, the cab stopped at the gates of the mansion. I was greeted by a tall blonde woman in a cashmere sweater.

For a moment, she eyed my face, then glanced at my sleeve. Not with curiosity, but... recognition? It was gone in an instant.

“You’re Claire? Come in. You get one chance. Impress me, or you’re out.”

In the early days, I felt like I had become a one-woman army: scrubbing, chopping, wiping, sweeping, and polishing.

There was so much to do.

The mansion was vast, filled with expansive surfaces and mirrors. Honestly, it seemed like no one had cleaned it in months.

But what truly rattled me wasn’t the work—it was Eve, the owner’s daughter. She moved like a predator, but her voice was like a blade, cutting through everything.

“The kitchen’s dirty again. Do you want to lose this job?”

I flinched, even though I had just cleaned it ten minutes ago.

“Sorry, I’ll get to it…”

She dismissed me with a wave.

“No excuses. This isn’t some cheap hostel.”

I scrubbed marble windowsills, polished countertops until they gleamed, and at night, I dreamt of the surfaces I’d missed.

I knew why I was doing it.

On the second evening, the owner finally came down for dinner. I was about to slip away when a voice stopped me in my tracks:

“What’s that smell? It reminds me of home. My mother’s cooking.”

I turned to see him for the first time. Miles. An older man with a silver beard, wearing a linen suit. He didn’t look at all like his daughter.

“Rosemary potatoes and baked mackerel, sir,” I said, feeling a bit shy.

“No ‘sir.’ Just Miles. And thank you, Miss…?”

“Claire. Just Claire.”

At that moment, Eve swooped in like a hawk to its prey.

“She still has to clean the kitchen!”

“That’s enough, Eve. She’s worked all day. We’ll clean up ourselves.”

As I passed Miles, I twisted my ankle just slightly. Nothing dramatic, but enough to make me wince.

“Oh dear,” Eve smirked, clearly pleased.

Miles stepped forward, steadying me by the shoulder. I felt his hand gently pull my sleeve up.

“Wait a moment…”

I froze. Near my neck, on my left shoulder, was a birthmark shaped like a heart. When Miles saw it, his eyes widened.

“I have the same one. Identical. Who’s your father?”

Miles wasn’t looking at my shoulder anymore; his gaze was locked onto mine. I lowered my gaze.

“I don’t know. My mom never said. I grew up with just her.”

“What’s her name?”

“Olivia.”

Miles blinked once. But something passed behind his eyes.

“I see.”

His voice was calm, almost unnervingly so.

“You may go, Claire. And… thank you for dinner.”

I headed back to my room, but all I could think about was: “I have the same one. Identical.”

After that night... no one ever brought up the birthmark again. Not a word. At some point, I even started wondering if it had all been a dream.

But Eve changed. And it wasn’t subtle.

That afternoon, I walked by the study. Eve stood frozen at the doorframe, peering at Miles’s desk. Her face was pale, her jaw clenched. A moment later, she slammed the door and walked past me without a word.

She started hovering around me, barking orders.

“Don’t forget the drapes in the library. Dust everywhere. And by the way, you’re handling dinner tonight. We have guests.”

That’s when strange mishaps began. First, the pie burned.

I knew I had turned off the oven. I even checked it twice. But when I returned, the thick smoke hit me. I opened the window, desperately trying to air it out.

“Oh God. Please no…”

And there was Eve, standing by the door, grinning like a cat that just knocked over your glass.

“What’s this? A failed attempt to burn the house down?”

“I’ll clean it up, Eve.”

“You don’t have a choice, darling.”

I managed to bake a new pie with spare dough in the fridge, despite my shaking hands.

An hour later, I took the red tablecloths out of the wash only to find they were stained as if they had been dunked in bleach.

“What? How…?”

Just then, Eve appeared in the doorway of the laundry room, bleach bottle in hand.

“Did no one teach you that colored fabrics and bleach don’t mix?”

“But I didn’t…”

“We’ll dock it from your salary. Use the white ones in the cabinet.”

I said nothing.

An hour before the guests were due, I opened the cabinet to retrieve the crystal glasses. As I gently touched the box, I froze. Inside was a graveyard of shattered crystal. It wasn’t just one bad day. It felt like a war. When Eve walked in moments later, I stood up, facing her with all the courage I had left.

“Why are you doing this?”

She gave me her signature smirk.

“Because you don’t belong here. You’re just one of Daddy’s emotional hiccups. He’ll get over it.”

“You want me to get fired?”

“Oh no, darling. I want you to leave on your own. Before Dad…”

For a split second, her lips parted as if she was about to say something bigger, but then she stopped herself.

“Never mind. You’ll regret it either way.”

That was when I finally saw the real Eve. A jealous child, threatened by something she didn’t understand. Or maybe something she understood all too well. The thought curled in my stomach like smoke.

What if I hadn’t just stumbled into this house?

Whatever it was, Eve had declared war.

It was an evening that begged for calm, but I felt a storm brewing. Miles invited two special guests. He hadn’t said who.

When the car arrived, I peered through the lace curtain, and my heart nearly stopped. It was Mom.

And next to her, Rose, carrying a bag filled with pill bottles and tissues. I rushed to the front door just as they stepped inside.

“Claire! My girl!”

Mom opened her arms, glowing like she hadn’t been sick a day in her life.

“They sent a driver for me! Like I’m some duchess.”

“Mom, you should be resting…”

“Oh, sweetheart, I couldn’t miss a night like this. Besides, Rose packed my entire pharmacy.”

Before I could say more, a familiar voice echoed down the stairs.

“Welcome, Olivia. You look exactly as I remember.”

We all turned. It was Miles.

He walked slowly, with a quiet dignity that made everything else seem insignificant. Mom’s smile faded into a tight line.

“And you’ve aged better than I expected, Miles.”

Ouch. Sparks flew. Dry, but still burning.

We moved into the dining room, where guests were already gathered. Miles tapped his spoon on a crystal glass, and the room hushed.

“There’s something I’d like to share tonight. And someone I’d like to introduce properly.”

His eyes met mine. I stopped breathing.

“This young woman… Claire. She came here looking for a job. But a few days ago, I saw something. A birthmark. The same as mine.”

Gasps filled the room. I felt the walls close in. He turned to Mom.

“You never told me. Not back then. But I should have known.”

Mom’s voice was low, tinged with anger.

“I wasn’t going to beg you to stay, Miles. I didn’t want to explain anything you didn’t want to hear.”

He nodded slightly, as if to himself.

“That was my mistake.”

Then he turned back to the table.

“So… I recently discovered I have another daughter. Claire. She didn’t know. I didn’t know for years. But here we are.”

From the top of the stairs, Eve descended, her jaw tight.

“She’s been here five minutes, and you’re already throwing our lives away. For what? A heart-shaped freckle?”

Miles stayed still. “Eve, I know you overheard my conversations with the private detective. You already know that Claire is your sister.”

“You spied on Mom?” I whispered.

“I had to be sure, Claire. That your motives were real. They were.”

Eve’s voice grew lower, sharper. “So she just walks in and gets everything? After all these years?”

I stood up straighter.

“I came here to earn money to save my mother’s life.”

Miles looked at Eve.

“My dear… You need to accept she’s part of this family now.”

"Never!"

Then, breaking the tension like only she could, Mom stood up dramatically and said:

“Alright, enough soap opera. Can we eat before I pass out? This dress doesn’t come with oxygen.”

Laughter rippled through the room. I glanced around—at Miles, my mother, Eve, who sat stiff and silent, her fork untouched.

The truth had arrived. And even though some hearts resisted it, I was no longer just the maid. I was part of something bigger. Even if it would take time to be treated as such.

Mom’s surgery was a success. Eve and I still tiptoed around each other, but she invited me to a movie.

“No crying. I mean it,” she warned.

Maybe we were still figuring things out. But one thing was certain: I didn’t just save my mom. I found my father.

And for the first time, I wasn’t just watching someone else’s story anymore. I was living my own.