The New York skyline shimmered through the tall windows of the penthouse as Dominic Hayes, one of the city’s youngest billionaires, reclined in his leather chair. Outside, the flash of cameras caught models leaving the building with forced smiles and hidden tears.
Dominic had a rule that governed his personal life. He only involved himself with women untouched by past relationships. To him, this was not love, not intimacy, only a way to maintain control over a life that constantly demanded perfection. It was power, nothing else.
That evening, his usual housekeeper could not come in. A replacement arrived. Aaliyah Monroe, twenty-five years old, a single mother from Brooklyn, stepped quietly into the penthouse carrying a mop and bucket. Her sneakers were worn, her uniform frayed at the edges, yet her posture was straight, and her eyes met his without hesitation.
Dominic observed her. There was something about the calm precision in her movements that unsettled him. She did not look at him with fear or admiration. She did not act as though he were the world. She simply did her work.
“You are new,” he said, his voice controlled.
“Yes, sir,” she replied. “I am here to clean.”