THE MAID'S SECRET

The third day in the Obianyo mansion taught me one thing: wealth doesn't always come with warmth.

Everything sparkled floors, furniture, even the cold air but no one smiled. The other staff moved like shadows, barely speaking unless spoken to. Every surface was spotless. Every task had a time. Every word could be heard by someone watching.

I quickly learned the rules.

Rule one: Don't go near the west wing.

Rule two: Don't answer calls meant for the Obianyo family.

Rule three: Never ask questions.

I didn't break the rules.

Not on purpose.

But curiosity has a way of crawling under locked doors.

It happened just after noon.

Madam Nneka had stepped out to meet a delivery, and I was sent to refill the glass water dispensers on the second floor, Chinedu' wing

As I passed his study, I heard voices low and urgent. I paused. Only for a second.

"I told you to clear it before the end of the month," Chinedu's voice snapped. "I don't care if it's risky. Handle it."

A pause. Then something softer. "No, she doesn't know. She's just a maid."

My heart kicked.

Was he talking about me?

I should have kept walking, but my feet did not move fast enough. The door creaked slightly, just enough to reveal his silhouette inside leaning against a dark wood desk, one hand gripping a tumbler of something that wasn't water.

"End the call," he barked, and suddenly his eyes turned toward the door.

I froze.

The next moment, the door flew open.

He stared at me like I was a stain on his floor.

"What did you hear?"

I dropped my gaze. "Nothing, sir. I...I was just passing"

"You don't pass this side without permission."

"I'm sorry."

He stepped closer. His cologne hit first, sharp,expensive, intoxicating. Then his voice, low and deliberate.In this house, listening costs people their jobs. Or worse.

I swallowed. It won't happen again.

He leaned in slightly. Good. Because I don't like repeating myself.

Then, just as quickly, he turned and walked back in.

The door slammed shut.

I ran down the hallway, heart pounding. By the time I reached the kitchen, my hands were shaking. I kept washing the same glass over and over until my fingers went numb.

"What happened to you?" one of the junior maids asked.

I forced a smile. Just tired.

But it was not just tiredness. It was fear. And something else I couldn't name.

I told myself it was just intimidation he was my boss, and that's all it was.

But why did the sound of his voice keep looping in my head?

Why did my skin remember the nearness of him?

That evening, I went to the servant quarters behind the mansion. I had barely touched my rice when I got a message from Madam Nneka.

Obianyo requests his room cleaned again. Now.

Again?

I'd already cleaned it that morning. But orders are orders.

I returned to the main house, climbed the staircase, and entered his room quietly.

He was there seated on the edge of the bed, head bowed, shirt half unbuttoned, as if caught between rest and regret.

He didn't look at me.

"Clean," he said without lifting his gaze.

I moved slowly, wiping already-clean surfaces with shaky hands, unsure if he was watching. The silence was too loud. I could hear every breath.

"Where are you from?" he asked suddenly.

I froze. "Ojuelegba, sir."

That explains the cautious eyes.

I didn't respond.

"You don't belong in places like this," he continued.

I know.

Another silence. Then, more quietly: Then why are you still here?

I looked up, surprised. "Because I need to be."

This time, his eyes met mine.

For a brief second, I saw something raw. Tired. Almost human.

But then it was gone.

He stood, walked past me, and whispered as he passed

"Be careful, Tomiwa."

And just like that, he left the room.