She was very young—no more than eighteen. Thin, weak, and worn out. Her body sank deeply into the mattress, the kind of sleep that only comes from deep exhaustion, not carelessness.
Something felt wrong. This was not a mistake. This was someone who had reached her limit.
Gently, Richard bent down and touched her shoulder.
“Lena,” he said softly.
Her eyes flew open.
She jumped up like she had been burned. The mop slipped from her hand and hit the floor. She blinked, confused, then froze when she saw him standing there.
Her face went pale.
“I—I’m sorry, sir!” she cried, dropping to her knees beside the bed. She grabbed the mop again, holding it tightly. “Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to sleep. I swear.”
Her voice shook as tears ran down her face.
“I haven’t slept all night,” she said quickly. “I must have collapsed. Please don’t fire me. Please. I need this job.”
Richard felt his chest grow heavy.
He had seen many things in his life—betrayal, greed, lies—but never this. Never someone so scared just for falling asleep.
Slowly, he knelt down in front of her.
“Lena,” he said gently, his voice calm and warm, “why didn’t you sleep last night?”
She wiped her face with her sleeve and looked away.