The Billionaire's Maid

Chapter One: Ashes and Silence

Some places never let you breathe.Hollow Ridgewood was one of those places.

Looking at it, it looked like any other rural town — a few petrol stations, a dusty and dirty streets and roads, houses with their paints peeling off and Veranda that creaked when one stepped too hard on it. But underneath that facade, it was the kind of place where secrets can never be buried for long… and people like Ellen ? They never got noticed, which she prefers.

On that very day, everything had seemed normal. The sun dragged itself slowly above the horizon. The fowls crowed late. Ellen s mom on her dying bed, breathing as if each was going to be her last, looking at her, there seems to be no hope left as tears pour down Ellen ’s face . She kissed Ellen ‘s forehead, and whispered, “Be strong, baby. Just need you to take care of yourself for me.”

She left her alone to this wicked world. Ellen weeped looking at her mother’s lifeless body. She left me , even her Bible — the one she never missed Sunday without.

That was three days ago.

Now, Ellen sat on the front steps, her hands curled around a chipped coffee mug filled with nothing. Not coffee, Not tea. Just warm air and waiting.

She watched the dirt and dusty road like it might spit her mother back out any moment.

But it didn’t.

The house was very quiet. The kind of quiet that hurts so much. Every corner reminded her that someone was missing — the way her mother’s laughter used to echo down the hallway when dad tells her one of his old jokes, the smell of her vanilla hair cream in the bathroom, the click of her heels when she was in a haste or late to church on Sundays. Gone. All gone.

When the sheriff finally showed up, his hat in his hands, Ellen already knew what he was here for .

Yes to bid her final farewell to her mom.

It’s painful how her husband abondoned her, on her sick bed

Some people whispered .

Ellen didn’t cry. Not then.

Her father did what he always did — drank a little, cursed the world, and then moved on like grief was something you could ignore if you didn’t name it.

With in a week, he remarried.

Jezebel.

She came with bright red lipstick, cheap perfume which makes one want to throw up, and a daughter named Julia who acted like she ruled the world and Ellen was just her ugly servant.

“You’ll be sharing a room with Julia” Jezebel had said with a sweet smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Hope you wouldn’t disagree?”

“Disagree ?” Ellen thought knowing fully well she had no there option.

Julia made sure Ellen knew who the real daughter was. She’d mock her clothes, toss her notebooks in the trash, lie to the neighbors, and somehow always come out looking like the angel while Ellen looked like the wicked Witch.

Whenever Ellen complained, her father just sighed and ignores her, “You’re too soft, just like your mother.”

That one hurt more than any push or insult. Because deep down her heart, Ellen was scared he was right.

Then one day, it all broke.

She came home from school to find her mother’s old gown— the last thing she had left —the one which her mother had love most,shredded in the garbage.

Julia didn’t even pretend. Just smirked and said, “It was ugly. You don’t belong here anyway she said emotionlessly .”

Ellen ran to her father, tears in her eyes, the torn white gown in her hands.

But he didn’t even look up.

“She’s just a a child,” he said. “Quit whining.”

That was it.

That was the moment Ellen knew no one was coming to save and protect her. She against three?, no way she is going to make it.

So she decided to save herself.

That night, while the house snored and buzzed with silence, she packed a small bag. Just the essentials: two worn shirts, a pair of jeans, her cracked phone, and $59 saved from working at the farm of their elderly neighbour Mr and Mrs Pinkins.

She took her time writing out train routes on a piece of paper of paper. Folded it neatly. Tucked it in her pocket like a map to freedom.

And before dawn, she slipped out the door.

She didn’t leave a note. Didn’t look back.

The porch swing creaked in the wind.

The stars were barely awake, as the moon shine brightly, lighting her way.

But Ellen … she was.

Awake. Alive. And finally moving forward.