I used to work as a maid for a rich man, but when he saw my birthmark, my life turned into a nightmare

I took a job as a maid in a mansion just to save my mother’s life. But the day the owner looked down on me, everything changed, and I had no idea what I’d gotten myself into.

Mom and I had always lived modestly. Well, if you could call it that. Sometimes our refrigerator was so empty I couldn’t help but joke, “Hey, maybe there’s a portal to another life in there?”

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

Mom laughed, but her eyes were always heavy. She had worked in a sewing factory all her life, until her health deteriorated. All the doctors said the same thing:

“He needs surgery as soon as possible.”

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

So I started looking for a second job. Then a third. But let’s face it: no one survives on what the night shift cashiers make. One night, I came across an ad:

“Housekeeper needed. Private development. High salary. Room and board included.”

The salary was so high that I blinked twice to make sure I wasn’t mistaken. Mom almost choked on her tea when I showed her the ad.

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

“You’ve lost your mind. Do you want to go work at some rich man’s mansion?”

I closed the ad as if someone was going to steal it from me.

“That salary is equivalent to three months at the supermarket. We don’t have time.”

She didn’t answer, just coughed, deep and ragged. The kind of cough that lingers in your lungs for too long. That sound haunted me all night. By morning, I’d already packed my bags.

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

Before leaving, I paid a babysitter and hugged Mom.

“Everything will be okay. Listen to Rose.”

“He won’t let me eat anchovies.”

“Mom, salt is bad for you.”

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Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

“And anchovies are my last love affair. Don’t take it away from me while I still have teeth.”

“I’ll call you, okay?”

“Unless they sell your organs first.”

“Mother!”

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

“And what do you think it will be like? Living in a palace?”

“I have no idea. But if he pays that much… Maybe he’s trying to buy a clear conscience.”

“I once knew someone like that. A millionaire with a conscience, a rare breed.”

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

An hour later, the taxi driver pulled up outside the mansion. I was greeted by a tall blonde in a cashmere sweater.

For a moment, his eyes lingered on my face. Then they briefly rested on my shirtsleeve. It wasn’t curiosity. It was almost … recognition? But it disappeared just as quickly.

“Are you Claire? Come in. One chance. Impress me or you’re out.”

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

***

In the first few days of work, I felt like my hands had become a universal tool: scrubbing, chopping, cleaning, sweeping, and polishing.

There was a lot to do.

The mansion was huge, with large surfaces and mirrors everywhere. And honestly, it looked like no one had cleaned it in months.

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

But what worried me most wasn’t the job. It was Eve. The owner’s daughter. She moved like a cat, but her voice, sharp and cold like a machete, always struck first.

“The kitchen is dirty again. Do you want to lose this job?”

I shuddered, even though I had cleaned it ten minutes ago.

“Sorry, I’ll get on with it…”

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

But she was already making a dismissive gesture with her hand.

“There are no excuses. This isn’t a cheap hostel.”

I scrubbed the marble windowsills, polished the countertops until they shone, and at night I dreamed about the surfaces I hadn’t gotten around to cleaning.

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

I knew why I was doing all this.

On the evening of the second day, the proprietor finally came down for dinner. I was about to slip away quietly when a voice stopped me in my tracks:

“What’s that smell? Like home. Like my mom’s cooking.”

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Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

I turned and saw him for the first time. Miles. An older gentleman with a silver beard and dressed in a linen suit. He looked nothing like his daughter.

“Rosemary potatoes and baked mackerel, sir,” I said, feeling a little shy.

“No ‘sir’. Just Miles. And thank you, miss…”

“Claire. Just Claire.”

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

At that moment, Eve swooped down like a hawk that had spotted prey.

“You still have to clean the kitchen!”

“That’s enough, Eve. You’ve been working all day. We’ll clean up.”

As I passed Miles, I twisted my ankle slightly. Maybe not completely dramatic, but enough to make me let out an audible “ouch.”

“Wow,” Eve smiled with delight.

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

Miles immediately approached, grabbing me by the shoulder. I felt his hand gently tug at my sleeve.

“Hang on a minute…”

I froze. On the left side of my shoulder, near my neck, I had a heart-shaped birthmark. When Miles saw it, his eyes widened.

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

“I have the same one. Identical. Who is your father?”

Miles was no longer looking at my shoulder, but directly into my eyes. I looked down.

“I don’t know. My mother never told me. I grew up with only her.”

“What’s it called?”

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Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

“Olivia”.

Miles blinked. Just once. But something happened behind his eyes.

“I see”.

His voice became firm again, almost too firm.

“You can go, Claire. And… thanks for dinner.”

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

I went back to my room, but the only thing that echoed in my mind the whole way was:

“I have the same one. Identical.”

***

After that night… no one mentioned the birthmark again. Not a word. Not a look. At some point, I even started to wonder if it had all been a dream.

But Eve changed. And it wasn’t subtle.

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

That afternoon, I walked past the study. Eve was frozen in the doorway, staring at Miles’s desk. I couldn’t see the screen, but her face was pale and her jaw was clenched. A second later, she slammed the door shut and walked past me without a word.

He began to hover around me like a shadow, barking orders.

“Don’t forget the library curtains. Dust everywhere. By the way, you’re in charge of dinner tonight. We have guests coming.”

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Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

That’s when a strange series of small disasters began. First, the cake burned.

I knew I’d turned off the oven. I even checked it twice. But when I came back, there was thick smoke. I hurried to open the window.

“Oh, God. Please, no…”

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Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

And there was Eve, standing by the door, grinning like a cat that just pushed your glass off the table.

“What is this? A failed attempt to burn down the house?”

“I’ll clean it up, Eve.”

“You have no choice, darling.”

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

Luckily, there was plenty of dough in the fridge, so I managed to bake a new one, although my hands were shaking.

An hour later, the red tablecloths. I took them out of the washing machine only to find them stained, as if they’d been in a bleach bath.

“What? How…?”

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

Just in time, Eve stood in the doorway of the laundry room, a bottle of bleach in her hand.

“Didn’t anyone teach you that colored fabrics and bleach don’t mix?”

“But I don’t…”

“We’ll deduct it from your pay. Use the white ones in the closet.”

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Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

I didn’t say anything.

So, an hour before the guests arrived, I opened the cupboard to look for the crystal glasses for the table.

I gently touched the box and froze. Inside was a graveyard of shattered glass. It hadn’t just been a bad day. It was war. When Eve walked in a moment later, I faced her for the first time with all the courage I had left.

“Why are you doing this?”

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Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

He gave me that characteristic smile.

“Because you don’t belong here. You’re just one of Dad’s emotional hiccups. He’ll get over it.”

“Do you want me to get fired?”

“Oh, no, honey. I want you to go on your own. Before Dad…”

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

Just for a second, his lips parted as if he were about to say something else. Something bigger. But he held back.

“It doesn’t matter. You’ll regret it either way.”

It was then that I finally saw her true face. A jealous little girl, threatened by something she didn’t understand. Or maybe… something she understood all too well. The thought curled in my stomach like cold smoke.

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

What if I hadn’t just stumbled upon this house?

Whatever it was, Eve had declared war.

***

It was the kind of night that called for calm. But I felt a storm brewing. Miles had invited two special people. He hadn’t told anyone who.

When the car stopped, I looked through the lace curtain and my heart nearly stopped. Mom.

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

And next to her, Rose, carrying a bag full of pill bottles and tissues. I ran to the front door just as they entered.

“Claire! My girl.”

Mom opened her arms, radiant as if she hadn’t been sick a single day in her life.

“They sent a chauffeur to pick me up! As if I were a duchess.”

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Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

“Mom, you should be resting…”

“Honey, I couldn’t miss a night like this. Besides, Rose packed the whole pharmacy for me.”

Before he could say another word, a familiar voice echoed down the stairs.

“Welcome, Olivia. You look exactly the same as I remember.”

We all turned around. Thousands.

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

He stepped down slowly, with that quiet dignity that made everything else seem smaller. Mom’s smile faded into a tense line.

“And you’ve aged better than I expected, Miles.”

Ouch. Sparks. Dry. But still warm.

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

We moved into the dining room, where the guests were already gathering. I barely had time to check the plates when Miles gently tapped a crystal glass with his spoon. The room fell silent.

“There’s something I’d like to share tonight. And someone I’d like to properly introduce.”

His eyes met mine. I stopped breathing.

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

“This young woman… Claire. She came here looking for work. But a few days ago, I saw something. A birthmark. Just like mine.”

A few exclamations. I felt the walls close in. He turned to my mother.

“You never told me. Not then. But I should have known.”

Mom’s voice was deep, a little angry.

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

“I wasn’t going to beg you to stay, Miles. I didn’t want to explain anything you didn’t want to hear.”

He nodded, almost to himself.

“That was my mistake.”

Then he turned back to the table.

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

“So… I recently found out I have another daughter. Claire. She didn’t know. I didn’t know… for years. But here we are.”

From the top of the stairs, Eve descended, her jaw tense.

“You’ve been here five minutes and you’re already throwing our lives away. Why? For a heart-shaped mark?”

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Sora

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Sora

Miles stood still. “Eve, I know you’ve heard my conversations with the private detective. You know Claire is your sister.”

“Did you spy on Mom?” I whispered.

“I had to be sure, Claire. That your motives were real. They were.”

Eve’s voice lowered, sharper. “So he just comes in and takes everything? After all these years?”

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

I stood up.

“I came to earn money to save my mother’s life.”

Miles looked at Eve.

“Darling… You have to accept that he’s now part of this family.”

“Never!”

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

Then, breaking the tension as only she could, Mom stood up dramatically and said:

“Okay, that’s enough soap opera. Can we eat before I pass out? This dress doesn’t come with oxygen.”

There were a few giggles. I looked around the table: at Miles, at my mother, at Eve, who sat rigid and silent, her fork untouched.

The truth had arrived. And although some hearts resisted it, I was no longer just the maid. I was part of a larger family. Even if it took a while before I was treated as such.

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels

***

Mom’s surgery was a success. Eve and I were still talking cautiously, but she invited me to the movies.

“No crying. I mean it,” he warned me.

And we may have still been figuring things out. But one thing was certain: I didn’t just save my mother. I found my father.

And for the first time, I wasn’t watching someone else’s story anymore. I was finally living my own.

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Midjourney

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If you liked this story, read this one: I thought I’d found the perfect man until his daughter asked me if I’d earned “enough points” to stay. At first, I smiled. But then I realized… someone was keeping score. And it wasn’t just her. Read the full story here .

This article is inspired by stories from our readers’ everyday lives and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustrative purposes only. Share your story with us; it might change someone’s life. If you’d like to share yours, please send it to us at [email protected] .

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