A Maid For The Heir

CH. ONE _ [Maya]

I was certainly going to get fired today.

If there was one thing Mrs. Simmons hated more than incompetence, it was tardiness.

I glanced at my watch, its tattered leather straps barely holding onto my wrist. Thirty minutes past seven and I was only on my second bus.

As a housemaid for a well-protected and prestigious family, clocking into work at the required time was non-negotiable. The strict rules ensured safety and certainty.

For the last five months, I'd been commuting from Five Points, Denver to Cherry Creek, Denver. I always used the shortest commute that required the most energy.

It was in this exact order; walk, get on the first bus, second bus, third bus and then walk.

By the time I'd be reaching my destination, my unruly hair would have already escaped its imprisonment, flying in all directions.

And to add onto that, applying any makeup was never part of my morning routine, so there wouldn't be much of a difference between a starved cavewoman and I.

The bus slowed to a stop.

I tucked my ancient purse under my arm and bustled off the bus. I got on my next and last bus in a couple of minutes.

As it started its brief journey, my gaze ran down the aisle. There wasn't any free seat available. It didn't matter anyway, my destination was eight minutes away.

"I got a seat right here, sweetheart."

I spotted the freckled man seated a few feet ahead of me, his beefy hand patting his tree trunk of a thigh.

Glassy eyes that had likely seen better smoke-free days gave me a slow disgusting appraisal.

My cheeks burnt red, humiliation swallowing me up as my eyes darted across the bus.

Apart from the smirks from a few men, and the frowns from a couple of women, no one did anything to ridicule the man. And a cold sweat started to trickle down my back, my heart beating against my chest.

"No, thank you," I said, hoping that would be enough to steer him away. But I didn't have the time to find out when my phone rang.

Thankful for the interruption, I dived my hand into my purse and pulled out my phone. "Hello?"

"Where the fuck is my breakfast?!" shouted a baritone voice I knew all too well.

It was Vincent. My husband. My everything. My life. My highschool sweetheart. The father of my future children. And the giver of the scars on my body.

The latest bruise, a nasty purple coloration on my back throbbed in agony.

"I'm sorry, honey. I took some pills to help me sleep yesterday. They must have-"

"I don't give a fuck! When I demand for you to take care of me, I expect it to be without fail. Can't you do anything right, woman? Fucking useless bitch..." He hang up before I could say anything more.

I put away my phone, praying to the heavens that that was the end of his rage. I couldn't take any more hits at the moment. I was already overdosing on my painkillers.

I discreetly passed my gaze around, fearful that someone might have overheard our conversation. But to my relief, no one seemed to have noticed.

I sighed, accepting that I'll eventually have to face Vince. But at the moment, my biggest problem was only a few minutes ahead of me.

I turned my head to the window and just like the last five months, the stark difference between where I was coming from and where I was going hit me.

Five Points was a far cry from the lavish lifestyle that Cherry Creek possessed.