Claudia jolted awake at precisely 5:30 AM, her body weighed down by fatigue, but complaints had no place in her world. Ever since fate cruelly took her husband, she’d been surviving—by the minute, by the task, by necessity. In the soft haze of pre-dawn light, her 4-year-old daughter, Renata, clung to a worn-out stuffed animal, lost in innocent dreams. Claudia couldn’t tear her eyes away. The thought of leaving her little girl alone again sent a pang through her chest. No—she would take her to work, just like yesterday.
She moved like a ghost through the kitchen, making oatmeal for Renata and coffee thick as midnight for herself. As each spoonful passed her lips, dread brewed in her stomach. How would she explain it—again—to Mr. Leonardo? A man whose towering presence judged without a word spoken. Daycares were luxuries in her world. Family? A ghost story.
By 6:15, Claudia gently roused her daughter with a kiss. Renata stirred, smiling, more than happy to return to the house that loomed like a castle in her young imagination. Claudia knelt down, looked into her eyes, and gave the firm command of a soldier: behave, don’t touch anything, don’t be a problem.
At exactly 7:00, they slipped into the morning. Backpacks on their shoulders, they pushed forward against the wind of the world, reaching the bus stop just in time. The 40-minute ride became a blur of streetlights and steel, with Renata marveling at the life outside the window while Claudia answered her steady stream of questions like a woman trying to keep one brick on top of another.
Then came the polished kingdom of the rich—quiet streets, estates wrapped in walls and secrets, gardens clipped to perfection. Mr. Leonardo’s mansion waited behind its black gate like a slumbering beast. The guard, José, recognized them instantly and waved them inside with a warmth that didn’t match the cold marble beyond.
Despite two years spent here, Claudia never crossed the threshold without unease prickling her spine. The scent of wealth—rare woods and expensive polish—hit her like clockwork. She stuck to the shadows, moving quietly through the service entrance. Renata, well-trained, slid into her habitual spot: a kitchen corner with crayons and safety. The cleaning began—silent, methodical.
Then, at 8:15 AM, it all changed.
Footsteps echoed on the grand staircase. Panic clenched Claudia’s chest. Mr. Leonardo wasn’t supposed to be awake this early. He wasn’t part of her morning routine.
But that morning, everything would unravel—and transform—with the sound of those deliberate steps descending toward them.