Mia thought she was just a hotel cleaner, but after a wealthy guest falsely accused her of theft, her life took a sharp turn. Unwilling to let him destroy her, Mia uncovered secrets that led to a stunning confrontation and a job offer that would change everything. I swear, if I have to scrub another toilet without so much as a thank you, I might lose it. Every day feels the same. Push the heavy cart down the long, polished hallways, mop floors, wipe mirrors, and make beds that I’ll never sleep in. The hotel is gorgeous, sure—marble floors, chandeliers that look like they belong in a palace. But me? I’m just here to clean.

I’m 24 years old, and I feel like I’ve been working forever. No fancy degree or family to fall back on. My parents didn’t care much when I packed up and left home at 18. I’ve been on my own ever since. Two jobs—cleaning hotel rooms by day, waitressing by night. It’s not a life anyone dreams of, but it’s my reality. I push my cleaning cart to Room 805, bracing myself. I know what’s waiting for me behind that door—a mess. Sliding the keycard, I open the door, and there he is—just like every other morning. He’s stretched out on the bed, grinning at me, a cocktail in his hand, even though it’s barely noon.

“Well, well, look who it is. My favorite maid,” he says, his voice dripping with fake charm. I don’t say anything. I just start cleaning, pretending he’s not even there. I learned a long time ago that ignoring him is the best way to deal with it. “Why don’t you ever talk to me?” he asks, pushing his luck. “You’re here every day. Might as well be friendly.” I don’t answer. What’s the point? Guys like him—they think the world owes them something just because they have money. I’ve seen enough of it in this place. He’s no different. “You know, I could make life easier for you,” he continues, his voice lowering like he’s offering me some kind of deal. “You wouldn’t have to work so hard if you played nice.”

I stop scrubbing for a second, my jaw clenching. This is new. I’ve heard his flirting before, but this is a step too far. I look up, meeting his eyes for the first time today, and they’re as smug as ever. His grin fades a little, but he shrugs, unbothered. “Your loss,” he mutters, turning back to his drink. I finish the bathroom, moving quickly. I don’t want to be in here any longer than I have to. The air feels thick with his arrogance, and I need to get out before I say something I’ll regret. When I come out, he’s watching me again, still lounging on the bed like he owns the place. “You know, you could at least say thank you when I’m being nice,” he says, his tone now a little more irritated.

I grab the vacuum and start cleaning the carpet, pretending like I can’t hear him over the noise. “You’re really something, you know that?” he says, his voice louder now. “I’ve had women beg for a chance to be in this room, and you can’t even smile.”

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