A woman with stern eyes and a gray bun opened the door. “You here for the job,” she asked.
“Yes. Lina Perez,” Tessa lied. She had practiced the name so often that it felt natural.
The housekeeper, Mrs. Calder, studied her. Lina looked clean and careful in a way that did not match a typical new hire. The woman frowned but stepped aside.
“We work hard here. We keep quiet. You understand that.”
“Yes, maam.”
That night, in the tiny staff room, Tessa opened the only treasure she carried, a small photo of herself with her father taken years before. Her father had been a kind man. His name was Joel Morel. He owned a small clinic in Phoenix and had tried to protect her as best as he could, even while cancer weakened him.
He had arranged her engagement to a wealthy man from a powerful family, thinking he was securing her future. At first the man had seemed perfect. Then his temper had shown itself. The bruises on her arms had been hidden under silk sleeves. She had never told her father. He was too sick. She knew the truth would crush him.