Chapter 8 - The Burden of Privilege
I shuffled toward the grand foyer, maintaining the hunched posture of an overworked maid. Stacked near the heavy front doors were six massive garment boxes, heavily branded with the logos of a Parisian bridal designer.
“Bring those upstairs to my master suite,” Vanessa ordered from the kitchen. “And don't drag them! If you scuff the floors, I’ll take it out of your pathetic hourly wage.”
The boxes were incredibly cumbersome. I stacked three of them in my arms, my vision partially blocked, and began the long ascent up the sweeping marble staircase. The physical strain was real, but I focused on the recorder in my pocket, ensuring it was picking up every humiliating command.
Halfway up, my foot slipped slightly on a marble step. The boxes shifted, and I let out a small gasp to steady myself.
“Watch it, you clumsy fool!” Vanessa shrieked from below. She had followed me to the base of the stairs, sipping a glass of sparkling water. “Those gowns cost more than your life is worth. What is wrong with you people? Are you genetically incapable of following simple instructions?”
“I am sorry, miss,” I stammered, artificially thickening the accent I was projecting. “They are very heavy.”
Vanessa laughed, a cold, mocking sound that chilled my blood.
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“Oh, they are very heavy,” she mimicked my tone perfectly, sneering. “Boo-hoo. Nobody cares about your struggles, Maria. Your job is to serve. If you can't handle it, there are a hundred other desperate women waiting to take your minimum-wage spot. Now hurry up! I don't have all day.”
I reached the top landing, my breathing slightly elevated, and carried the boxes into Daniel’s suite, which she had completely overtaken. Shoes, jewelry, and makeup were strewn everywhere. The entitlement radiating from her was suffocating. I went back down for the remaining three boxes, enduring another barrage of insults about my speed and my appearance.
