"Mom, please! Please! Please!" she pleaded on her knees, eyes brimming with tears as she clung to the woman's legs.
"Mom, please!" she cried again, her voice cracking with desperation.
"Stop calling me that! I am not your mother. And get those filthy hands off my legs!" the woman spat, ruthlessly kicking her away. Daniella crawled back, still clutching at the hem of her skirt.
"Mom, please don't push me away," she whispered, her voice trembling, even as the woman's foot connected with her again.
"What are you all looking at? Get this garbage off me and throw her outside!" the woman snapped at the onlookers.
It was midnight—cold, silent, and unwelcoming—and Daniella couldn't believe that her own mother, her blood mother, had thrown her out like she was nothing more than trash. She picked up her small, tattered luggage and began walking beneath the star-studded sky, each step echoing on the empty pavement. The night felt as still and desolate as a graveyard.
********
"When are you going to pay me, huh?" a male voice asked, cutting through the silence.
"When I feel like it," replied Isabella, her voice flat and uninterested.
"You said you'd pay me at the end of the month. That was the agreement, remember?" he said, glancing at her with sharp eyes. She stared back unflinching.
"You know I don't like people going back on their word," he added, his tone carrying a dangerous edge that Isabella was all too familiar with.
"You gave me money, right?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Then I'll return it. Isn't that simple?" she asked, eyes wide and frustrated.
"Not that simple, Bella baby."
"Then you'll have to wait. It hasn't even been a week. What more do you want from me?" she said, rolling her eyes.
"You could pay with your body... or your life. How about that?" he said with a smirk.
"You... how dare you," she said, raising her hand to slap him. But she stopped midway, her hand frozen in the air. She knew she wouldn't dare.
"Bella baby, I don't get why you value that dignity of yours so much. More than your own life, even."
"Stop asking for my body. It's the last thing I'd give you. Maybe to other men—but never you."
"Oh, I know you wouldn't."
"Then what do you want?"
"You'll find out soon enough. Actions speak louder than words."
Fear flickered in her eyes. Apprehension tightened in her chest. What was he planning?
"Why are you making such a big deal out of this? I should just pay you back and be done with it."
"You remember the condition you were in when I lent you that money, don't you, Bella baby?"
"It was an emergency! I was stranded by the roadside and only needed twenty dollars."
"Nothing in this life is free."
"Really? Then what about the air you breathe? Are you paying for that?"
"No."
"Then why are you demanding so much from me?"
"Are you comparing me to God? He's God. I'm not. So don't blame me for being rude," he said with a mocking smile.
"You... despicable brat," she snapped, rising from the bed.
"Did you just call me a brat?" he asked, but she ignored him and slammed the door behind her.
"How audacious. Pfft. What a temper," he muttered.
******
The night was bitterly cold as Daniella walked slowly down the sidewalk. Her body trembled from more than just the weather. Fear gnawed at her heart, and the wind felt like knives slicing through her skin. Every rustle of leaves and whisper of wind made her heart race.
She clutched her chest, fingers curling around the fabric of her blouse as if she could hold her aching heart together. Guilt gnawed at her, though she couldn't even explain where it came from.
"How could you? How could you?" she murmured. "I'm supposed to be your daughter. You're supposed to love me... why? Why?"
It felt like someone had driven a stake through her chest.
She needed shelter—just for the night. Every shop she passed was closed. The few still open looked so eerie and threatening she couldn't bring herself to enter.
She pressed on, her footsteps slow and unsteady. What made it worse was the loneliness. She had no friends, thanks to her mother. The woman had spread rumors at school, calling her a witch, driving everyone away.
Eventually, she wandered into a shadowed area lit by a single flickering streetlamp. The dim light barely pierced the darkness.
Then, from a distance, she spotted someone. Long golden hair. A flowing white dress.
Who would dress like that—and walk so confidently at this hour?
She froze.
Her legs refused to move. Her heart thundered in her chest as the figure drew closer. When she saw the woman's face, her eyes widened so much they looked ready to pop from their sockets.
She took two shaky steps back, her body trembling.
"Don't be scared," the figure said gently.
It was Isabella.
"I won't hurt you," she added in a soft, soothing voice.
"Ar-are you... the goddess of the night?" Daniella asked, her voice trembling. The question escaped her lips before she could stop it. Isabella's ethereal beauty was otherworldly—light brown eyes that could spellbind anyone, glowing skin, and a grace that seemed divine.
Isabella laughed gently. "Seriously? No."
Her warm smile made Daniella feel oddly safe.
"What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?" Isabella asked.
"I... I don't exactly know," Daniella stammered.
Isabella smiled kindly. "Come with me, then."
"To where? The moon?" Daniella asked nervously.
Isabella's laughter echoed softly in the quiet night. "You'll see. Or would you rather keep wandering, looking this miserable? Should I leave?"
Daniella shook her head quickly. Deep down, she was certain this woman was a helper sent from above.
"I'll come with you."
"Good girl. Now let's get you out of here. You look like you're about to turn into an ice block."
Isabella pulled out her phone and dialed a number Daniella didn't recognize. Within minutes, a sleek black SUV pulled up beside them.
Daniella blinked in surprise. Is she this rich?
The vehicle rolled to a stop in front of a white mansion, its lights glowing softly. Before Daniella could get a good look at the place, her vision swam, and she collapsed.
Isabella gasped in alarm. During the ride, she had noticed Daniella growing weak, her eyes unfocused, but the girl had said nothing.
"Bring her inside. Quickly—she's weak," Isabella instructed her men. "She needs care immediately."
********
The white mansion stood tall, its polished walls gleaming brightly beneath the morning sun. The structure was grand, almost palatial, with towering windows and a magnificent entrance that looked like something out of a royal estate. In front of the mansion stretched a pristine white garden, filled with blooming roses, lilies, and jasmine. Their petals danced gently in the breeze, releasing a sweet fragrance that perfumed the air with a delicate, calming scent.
The lush green grass was like velvet underfoot, perfectly manicured and vibrant, creating the appearance of a green carpet rolled out to welcome a queen.
When she woke up, Daniella found herself lying in a large, king-sized bed. The white bedsheets felt warm and soft against her skin, cocooning her like a gentle hug. As she slowly opened her eyes, still groggy, her blurry vision took in the vast, beautiful white room. She blinked a few times, then sat up to get a clearer view.
"Where… am I?" she murmured, her voice dry and croaky.
Just then, the door opened and Isabella stepped in. "Oh, you're awake," she said with a smile. "How do you feel?" Concern flickered in her eyes, making Ella even more confused.
"Much better," Ella replied, her voice steadier.
Isabella let out a visible sigh of relief. "You must be hungry. I already made food."
Ella blinked at her. She made food? For her?
She stared at Isabella for a long moment, uncertain how to react. Eventually, she simply said, "Okay."
"You should take a shower first so you can eat," Isabella advised, standing up and moving toward the door. Holding the knob, she added, "I'll send the food to your room, so get ready quickly. You're going somewhere today."
"Where am I going?" Ella asked, her confusion deepening. Her heart skipped—was Isabella planning to sell her? Into prostitution?
"It's time you paid me back," Isabella said cryptically. "By the way, what's your name?"
Isabella hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should change it. Maximus was picky when it comes to people's names.
"Daniella Malvern."
Bingo.
"Nice name," Isabella replied with a grin. "I'm Isabella Dawson." She left the room, smiling as she thought, Her name gives the right vibe.
Ella stood up and headed into the bathroom. The space was massive, the walls tiled in marble, exuding elegance and peace. She took a moment just to soak it all in. For a brief second, she forgot the fear and anxiety weighing on her.
She ran warm water into the luxurious tub, letting the steam fill the room. When the water touched her skin, it felt like life was flowing back into her veins.
Memories washed over her—memories of childhood when her mother would soak her and her siblings in the bath. Those moments were full of laughter and chaos, of splashing and arguing and innocence. But now… what had changed her mother so much?
Tears began to stream down her cheeks.
Taking a shaky breath, she murmured to herself, "Ella, don't cry. The past is the past. Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift—and that's why it's called the present. I have to survive—for me."
After her bittersweet but healing bath, she returned to the bedroom and found a tray of food waiting. She hurried to it, lifting the lid to reveal a beautiful stack of pancakes. Only then did she realize how ravenous she was. She ate quickly, not bothering to put on the clothes that had been laid out for her.
But when she glanced at the bed and saw them clearly—her heart stopped.
A maid uniform.
"What?!" The word escaped her lips in a shout. Her family had been rich, of course—but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined herself in a maid outfit.
Fury flared under her skin. What was Isabella thinking? Maid work? Prostitution even sounded like a better deal at that moment.
She scanned the room for her luggage, found it, and tore through it to retrieve her phone. She dialed a number.
Busy.
Busy again.
Still busy.
"Hell no!" she yelled, throwing the phone to the ground with a loud crack. Breathing hard, she searched again and found her credit card. That calmed her—slightly.
"I can do this. I have to. I won't die from this," she told herself. She put on the maid uniform reluctantly, her heart heavy. Her mother had already caused a scandal, and she needed to stay low until it faded from public attention.
After dressing, she went downstairs. The mansion was even more beautiful than she had noticed earlier—similar in elegance to the one her father had bought before his death.
Isabella approached. "All ready?"
Ella nodded. "Just get me a new phone."
"I'll arrange it within thirty minutes."
Isabella wore a long black gown that reached her toes, paired with sleek black glasses. They stepped outside and entered a black SUV.
So this was it. Off to serve as a maid in some grand house.
Fascinating, Ella thought sarcastically as she stared out the window. The ride lasted barely five minutes. When they arrived, her jaw nearly dropped.
The mansion before her was something else—colossal and breathtaking. Even her father's home couldn't compare. This was the kind of place girls dreamed of living in, surrounded by luxury.
Inside, it was just as magnificent. But the moment she stepped through the doors, someone fastened an apron onto her.
Couldn't they just give her a moment to breathe?
She resisted the urge to slap the person who did it.
Motherf—kers.
A woman in her forties approached. "Isabella," she greeted.
"Mrs. Florida, here she is."
"The maid is…" Mrs. Florida said, scanning Ella from head to toe, "manageable." When she finally met Ella's eyes, Ella shot her a fierce glare. Mrs. Florida quickly looked away and turned to Isabella.
"What is her name?"
"Her name is—" Isabella began, but Ella cut in.
"I'm right here. You can just ask me."
"Oh… of course. Haha." Mrs. Florida laughed awkwardly. "Daniella Malvern."
"Aha."
'This shy girl really has some fire' Isabella thought to herself.
A maid came over and handed Ella a tray. "The master wants you to bring this to him."
Ella simply nodded.
Asking for directions, she was told to head to the top floor. With shaking hands, she carried the golden tray upstairs to what she was told was the master bedroom.
Her hand trembled as she raised it to knock.
(Knock, knock.)
"Come in," a voice called from inside. It was low and rough, slicing through her like a blade.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside—and what she saw made her freeze.
Lying on the bed was a man so beautiful it took her breath away. "Beautiful" wasn't enough to describe him. It was almost unnatural. Did he have surgery? she wondered. That had to be it. Rich people always had the best surgeons.
The thought made her giggle.
Immediately, she realized her mistake and composed herself, only to look up.
She almost gasped. no she was sure she gasped.
Maximus.
He was inches from her face, his neck craned toward her, their noses nearly touching.
She froze, lips trembling.
"Hm," he raised an eyebrow. "What's so funny… maidi?"
Her face turned beet red, heat flooding her cheeks.