My boss tagged me in the group chat: Joan, Miss Fox filed a complaint saying you left before the job was done. She just paid an extra ten thousand in rush fees and wants you back first thing tomorrow morning to reorganize her entire walk-in closet. If you blow this job, you'll owe the company triple the penalty for breach of contract!
I stared at the words on the screen, my fingers slowly curling into a fist.
Davina had no idea who I really was. She simply wanted to make life miserable for a disobedient service worker.
I could have quit on the spot.
But as a professional organizer, I had access to clients' most private spaces.
I typed back a single word: Got it.
Tomorrow, I would go back.
The next morning, I rang the doorbell of Otto's apartment right on time.
Davina answered the door. She had a sheet mask plastered across her face and looked me up and down with open disdain.
"Lucky you ran fast yesterday. Today, you're sorting every last designer bag and couture gown by color. Damage even one piece, and selling you off wouldn't cover the cost."
I slipped on sterile shoe covers and white cotton gloves, then walked into the closet.