“Seven means seven,” he snapped. “Name?”
“Naomi Parker.”
He turned, eyes sharp. “Your duties are simple. Clean, organize, serve meals. And don’t bother me. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I doubt it.”
He handed her a paper. “The library. Every book alphabetized and dust-free. Four hundred books. You have until one.”
Naomi knew it was impossible, but she nodded. “I’ll start now.”
Richard watched her go with faint satisfaction. Since the accident, watching people break was the only thing that made him feel in control.
The library was massive. Naomi worked nonstop, hands burning, legs shaking. At 12:40, Richard appeared.
“Twenty minutes.”
At one o’clock, Naomi climbed down the ladder. “I’m done.”
The shelves were perfect. Richard frowned.
“The dining room. Hand-wash the glassware.”
The day continued like that—absurd demands, constant criticism. Other staff watched quietly, convinced she’d quit.
At seven, Helen told Richard, “She finished everything. She’s still cleaning.”
“Tell her to leave,” he said.
Naomi walked out exhausted but unbroken.
“You’re brave,” Helen whispered.
“I need the job,” Naomi replied. “Maybe I’ll last four days.”
The next morning, Naomi returned.