Poor Maid Gave Up Her Job To Help A Homeless Widow, Unaware That Will Change Her Life
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Poor Maid Gave Up Her Job To Help A Homeless Widow, Unaware That Will Change Her Life
Chapter 1: The Price of Kindness
The sound of the slap was louder than the rain. Sandra’s head jerked to the side, her cheek burning like fire. The silver tray she was holding almost fell from her hand. She stood in the middle of the grand living room, her black and white maid uniform soaked and dirty, drops of water dripping onto the shiny marble floor.
In front of her stood her boss, Cynthia. Cynthia was in a silk robe, her hair perfectly straight, her nails long and painted red. Her eyes were cold as she glared at Sandra like she was something dirty on the floor.
“You must be out of your mind,” Cynthia shouted, her voice echoing through the mansion. “I sent you to get groceries and return immediately, and you came back after forty minutes!”
Sandra opened her mouth to speak, but Cynthia raised her hand again, warning her to stay quiet.
“I saw you,” Cynthia hissed. “Do you think I am stupid? Do you think I do not have cameras?” She grabbed the remote and pointed at the big TV on the wall. The CCTV footage appeared. There was Sandra on the screen, outside the gate of the mansion, her uniform already wet from the rain. In the footage, she could be seen bending down, lifting an old woman on her back while still holding the grocery bag in one hand.
Cynthia pressed pause and turned back slowly. “You turned yourself into a savior on my time,” she said. “A poor maid carrying a useless old woman on her back while I was waiting for my things.”
Sandra swallowed, her heart beating fast. “Madam, please. She could not walk, she—”
“Shut up!” Cynthia shouted. “You are done here.” She grabbed Sandra’s small black bag from the chair, threw it at her feet, and pointed towards the door. “Get out of my house. Right now.”
Sandra stared at her, eyes wide, chest rising and falling. This mansion was not just her workplace—it was also where she slept, in the tiny boy’s quarters behind the main building.
“Madam, please,” Sandra whispered. “I have nowhere to—”
Cynthia stepped closer, her anger burning. “You had time to carry a stranger on your back,” she said. “Now carry your bag and leave my mansion.”
For a moment, everything fell quiet. Even the ticking wall clock sounded loud. Sandra’s fingers shook as she bent down and picked up her bag. The other house staff stood at the corner, watching silently, afraid to speak. She turned and walked slowly to the door. Her feet felt heavy. Her heart felt even heavier.
As her hand touched the door handle, one thought rang in her mind: I lost my job because I helped that old woman. She pulled the door open and stepped out into the cold evening, not knowing that this was the moment her life began to change.
Chapter 2: The Rain and the Widow
Earlier that day, the rain had just stopped. The sky was still dark and heavy, and small puddles dotted the road in front of the tall black gate of Cynthia’s mansion. The air smelled of wet dust and leaves. Sandra walked quickly toward the gate, a nylon bag of groceries in her left hand. Her uniform was already a little damp from the rain. She did not want to be late. Cynthia hated waiting.
As she walked past the side wall of the mansion, she heard it—a faint voice, trembling and desperate.
“Help me. I am dying. Please help.”
Sandra stopped. Her heart jumped. She turned her head, eyes scanning the shadows. The voice came again, even softer.
“I cannot walk again. Please.”
Sandra stepped closer to the outer wall and peeped around the corner. There, sitting on the wet ground and leaning weakly against the wall, was an old woman. She was shivering, her clothes soaked, a tattered wrapper clinging to her thin body. Her gray hair was scattered and wet, sticking to her forehead and cheeks. Her dark skin looked pale and tired. Her breathing was slow and heavy.
Sandra dropped the groceries on the dry part of the ground and hurried to her. “Mama, are you okay?” she asked, kneeling beside her. “Please, can you hear me?”
The old woman opened her eyes slowly. They were tired but gentle. “I… I cannot walk,” she whispered. “My legs are too weak. Please help me. I live two streets from here. Please.”
Sandra’s heart broke a little. Cars passed on the road. Some people walked by with umbrellas. Nobody stopped. Nobody even looked twice at the old woman. It was like she was invisible.
Sandra looked at the groceries beside her, then at the gate of the mansion. She knew Cynthia was waiting. She knew she was already late. But she remembered something her late mother always told her: No one ever regrets being kind.
“Okay, Mama,” Sandra said softly. “I will help you.”
She tried to help the woman to her feet first, but the woman’s legs shook and almost gave way. “Sorry, sorry,” Sandra said quickly. “Let me carry you.”
Sandra bent her knees and gently pulled the woman’s arms over her shoulders. With all her strength, she lifted the old woman onto her back. The woman was light, but Sandra could still feel the weight. She picked up the groceries with one hand and stepped onto the road. She raised her free hand and tried to stop a car.
“Please, somebody help us!” Sandra shouted. “She is sick. Please!”
A black car drove past. Then a silver one. Then a tricycle. None of them stopped. Some people glanced at her and looked away, pretending not to see. Sandra felt anger and sadness at the same time, but she held the old woman tighter.
“If they will not help,” she whispered, “then I will walk.”
She adjusted the woman on her back, held the grocery bag tight, and began to walk. The road was long. The water on the ground soaked her shoes. Her back hurt. Her arm holding the groceries shook. Sweat rolled down her face. Even though the air was cool after the rain, still she kept going.
Every few minutes, she would ask softly, “Mama, are you okay?”
The old woman would answer in a weak voice, “Yes, my child. Thank you.”
After almost twenty minutes of walking, Sandra’s legs felt like they would fall off. Her shoulders ached. Her hand holding the groceries felt numb.
“Is it still far?” she asked gently.
The old woman lifted a tired hand and pointed forward. “That small place there,” she whispered.
Sandra followed her finger. At the corner of the street, under a rough wooden frame, stood a small shade made from a torn trampoline and pieces of nylon. Old buckets and plastic bowls lay around. A worn-out mat was spread on the floor. It did not look like a home. It looked like a place someone would use to hide from the rain for a few minutes. Yet, this was where the old woman lived.
Sandra’s heart squeezed. How can she live here at her age? she thought, tears burning the back of her eyes.
She slowly bent down and helped the woman off her back onto the mat. “Mama, I am so sorry you are living like this,” Sandra said softly. “What is your name?”
The woman gave a weak smile. “My name is Sarah,” she said. “People used to call me Madame Sarah a long time ago.”
Sandra swallowed the lump in her throat. “Madame Sarah,” she said gently, “please rest here. I need to go back. My boss is waiting for these groceries.” She checked her pocket. There was a small amount of money left from the change.
“Mama, wait for me,” she said. “I will buy something small for you to eat.”
Sandra ran to a nearby kiosk, bought bread and a small tin of milk, then hurried back to the shade. She borrowed hot water from a woman selling tea nearby, and quickly made a cup of hot tea for Madame Sarah.
“Please eat,” Sandra said. “The night will be cold.”
Madame Sarah took the bread with shaking hands. “God will bless you, my child,” she whispered. “You have done more than you know.”
Sandra forced a smile, even though her heart was still heavy. “I have to go now,” she said. “I will come and check on you later.”
She turned and began to walk back, her legs slow and tired, her clothes wet and dirty. She did not know how much time she had spent. She only knew she had done the right thing.
Chapter 3: The Door Closes, Another Opens
Now, standing outside Cynthia’s mansion with her cheek still burning from the slap and her bag in her hand, Sandra looked up at the big house one last time. Her job was gone, her bed in the boy’s quarters was gone, her salary, her food, her small security—gone.
She took a deep breath and walked towards the gate. The security man who had watched everything silently opened it without a word. Sandra stepped out into the street. The air outside felt colder than before. A tricycle drove by slowly. She raised her hand and stopped it. As she climbed in with her small bag, tears pushed into her eyes, but she blinked them back.
I lost my job, she thought. But I saved a life. If I must give up my job to help her, then so be it.
She did not know that the same old widow she had carried on her back would soon carry her into a future she never imagined. And this was only the beginning.
Chapter 4: The Seed of Kindness
Sandra did not sleep that night. Her small one-room apartment felt even smaller than usual. The thin mattress scratched her skin as she turned from side to side. A single bulb flickered weakly above her, and the noisy generator from the next compound hummed through the walls. But none of that was why she couldn’t sleep.
Her mind kept replaying two images: Madame Sarah shivering under the shade of that torn trampoline, and Cynthia’s palm landing sharply on her face. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt that sting again, not on her cheek, but in her heart. She had lost everything in one evening. Yet she didn’t regret helping the old widow. Not even for one second.
Her late father’s voice echoed in her mind: Kindness is a seed, Sandra. It may fall on rocks, but one day it will grow in the right soil.
She swallowed hard, sat up on the mattress, and hugged her knees. What if Mama Sarah didn’t survive the night? she whispered into the darkness.
At 6:10 a.m., before the sun fully rose, she got up, washed her face, and wore a faded yellow gown that used to be her mother’s. She tied her hair into a small bun, grabbed her small handbag, and rushed out.
The walk back to the shade was filled with noise—drivers arguing, sellers shouting prices, smoke from roadside frying pans, bicycles zipping between cars. But Sandra didn’t hear or see any of it. Her heart was pounding as she approached the shade.
What if something had happened during the night? What if the cold had been too much? What if she came too late?
Her steps grew faster. When she finally reached the tiny shelter, she paused. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Then she saw her.
Madame Sarah was awake, but her breathing was heavy, her skin pale, her lips dry, her hands trembling as she tried to adjust the torn wrapper around her legs.
“Mama.” Sandra rushed forward and knelt beside her. “How are you feeling? Did you sleep at all?”
The old woman gave a small, tired smile. “My child, thank you for coming back.”
Sandra touched her forehead. It felt warm. Too warm.
“You’re burning,” Sandra whispered. “Your body is hot.”
Madame Sarah nodded weakly. “It is the cold, the rain.”
Sandra’s eyes widened with fear. “Mama, you can’t stay here. You’ll die.”
The old woman sighed and looked around her tiny shelter. “This is all I have,” she said softly. “This shade has been my home for years.”
“Not anymore,” Sandra said firmly. She stood up, grabbed Madame Sarah’s small nylon bag, and waved down a passing tricycle.
“Oy block 10,” she said quickly. “Please hurry.”
The driver looked at the old woman. “Auntie, she looks sick.”
“She is,” Sandra said. “Please go fast.”
She helped Madame Sarah into the back seat, climbed in beside her, and held her hand tightly as the tricycle sped away.
Chapter 5: A New Home, A New Challenge
Sandra’s room was small—a mattress on the floor, a plastic table, two stools, a tiny shelf with rice and a few old plates, a single curtain covering the window. But when the tricycle stopped in front of her compound, she felt strangely proud. At least it was better than a torn trampoline in the open street.
“Let’s go inside slowly,” Sandra said, supporting Madame Sarah around the waist. “I’m here. Don’t worry.”
They walked into the room together. Sandra guided her to the mattress, placed a small pillow behind her back, and opened the window slightly to let in fresh air.
“Rest. I’ll make food.”
She quickly boiled rice, added pepper sauce from the night before, and served it with cold water. After eating, Madame Sarah gained a little strength, and even managed a soft smile.
Sandra sat beside her, wiping her forehead gently with a wet towel.
“Mama, yesterday night, I couldn’t sleep,” she said quietly. “I was afraid something happened to you.”
“And you still came back,” the old woman murmured. “Not many people would.”
Sandra looked down at her hands. “I lost my job because I helped you,” she said softly. “My boss said she saw everything on CCTV.”
Tears gathered in Madame Sarah’s eyes. “My child, I am sorry. I have caused you pain.”
Sandra shook her head quickly. “No, mama. You didn’t cause anything. I chose to help you. I don’t regret it.” She held her hand gently. “What matters now is getting you well.”
But by the next morning, things got worse. Madame Sarah could not stand. Her breathing grew heavier. Her hands began to shake uncontrollably. Her lips turned pale. Sandra panicked. She knew she had to take her to a hospital, but she had no money left. Her savings were small, and she used part of it to buy food the night before.
She sat on the edge of the bed, tears filling her eyes. “What should I do?” she whispered.
Then an idea came. It was risky. It was desperate. But she had no choice.
Sandra took her old phone, its screen cracked at the corner, opened the camera, and snapped a picture of Madame Sarah lying weakly on the mattress. She typed slowly, her hands trembling:
I helped this amazing old woman yesterday. I don’t know her family. She is now with me at block 10 Oy road. She needs urgent medical attention. Please help me save her. If you can help, call my number or come to my place so we can take her to the hospital.
She looked at the message again. Her heart pounded. What if no one cares? What if people mock me? But she had no other option.
Sandra took a deep breath and posted it on Facebook, Instagram, and WhatsApp status. She put the phone down and held her head.
“God, please,” she whispered. “Let someone see it. Let someone care.”
Chapter 6: The Stranger Who Remembers
Across Lagos, in a tall glass building in Victoria Island, a billionaire CEO sat in his office. His name was Harrison Andrew. He was reviewing documents when his phone buzzed. A message popped up on his screen shared by a friend. He almost scrolled away, but something made him stop.
A picture of an old woman, weak, lying on a thin mattress. A caption asking for help. An address. He zoomed in. His heart froze. His hands shook.
It was her. Madame Sarah.
His voice cracked. His eyes filled with tears. The woman who paid his school fees when he was a poor orphan. The woman who gave him food when he had nothing. The woman who encouraged him to chase his dreams.
She was alive, but dying in a stranger’s room.
Without thinking, he stood up so fast his chair fell backward. “Driver, bring the car now!” His workers stared in confusion as he ran out. Within minutes, a convoy of black luxury SUVs raced out of the building.
Back in Sandra’s room, she sat beside Madame Sarah, wiping her forehead again. “Hold on, mama,” she whispered. “Someone will see the post. Someone will help us.”
Then—knock, knock!
Sandra jumped. She rushed to the door, opened it, and froze. Standing in front of her was a tall, powerful-looking man in an expensive suit, surrounded by guards and shining SUVs behind him. His eyes were already wet. He stepped forward.
“My name is Harrison,” he said softly. “I came because of the woman you posted.”
Sandra’s breath caught. She moved aside quickly. “Come in, sir.”
When Harrison entered and saw Madame Sarah lying on the mattress, he fell to his knees.
“Madame Sarah.” His voice broke. “It’s me, the boy you helped.”
Sandra covered her mouth in shock, and at that exact moment, Madame Sarah opened her eyes slowly.
“Harrison!” she whispered. And then she fainted.
Sandra screamed. Harrison leaped up, lifted her in his arms, and shouted, “Into the car now!” The guards rushed forward. Sandra grabbed her slippers and ran after them. The convoy sped off toward the hospital, and just like that, Sandra’s life had begun to change, but in ways she could never have imagined.
Chapter 7: Rescue and Reward
The convoy flew across Lagos like an emergency rescue team. Horns blared, cars moved aside. The sound of sirens echoed down the road. Inside the main SUV, Harrison held Madame Sarah tightly in his arms. Her head rested on his chest. Her breathing was faint. Her skin felt dangerously cold.
Sandra sat beside him, shaking, her fingers gripping the edge of the seat.
“Please, Mama, please hold on,” she whispered.
Harrison glanced at her, his eyes red, his jaw tight. “You did something most people would not do,” he said softly. “You saw her as a human being.”
Sandra looked down, swallowed, and wiped her tears. “I couldn’t leave her there,” she whispered. “She… she reminded me of my mother.”
A flicker of pain crossed Harrison’s face. “She saved me once,” he said quietly. “And now I’ll save her.”
The SUV swung into the hospital compound, tires screeching. Doctors rushed out as soon as they saw the man carrying an unconscious woman.
“This way, sir.” They ran through the wide hallway. The scent of disinfectant was thick in the air. Nurses pushed doors open, cleared stretchers, and hurried to prepare equipment. Harrison laid Madame Sarah gently on the emergency bed.
“Do everything you can,” he said, his voice trembling. “Please.”
The doctors nodded. “Sir, we need space. Give us a few minutes.”
The door closed and silence fell. Sandra sat in the waiting room, her hands shaking in her lap. Harrison stood by the window, both palms pressed against the wall, his head lowered.
The ticking clock felt louder than usual. Sandra watched him for a long moment.
“Sir, are you okay?”
He shook his head slightly. “No, but I will be.” His voice softened. “You brought her here. If you didn’t post her story, she would have died.”
Sandra blinked fast so tears wouldn’t fall. “I just did what I could,” she whispered.
He turned slowly and met her eyes. “And that is more than most people do.”
Two hours later, the doctor finally stepped out. Harrison rushed forward.
“How is she? Is she alive?”
The doctor nodded. “She’s alive, but she is very weak. Severe dehydration, stress, nutrition problems. She hasn’t eaten well for too long.”
Sandra exhaled deeply in relief.
“She will need to stay,” the doctor continued. “We have stabilized her, but she must rest.”
Harrison nodded quickly. “She will get everything she needs. Thank you.”
When the doctor left, Harrison leaned against the wall, covering his face with his hands. Sandra watched him.
“You care about her so much,” she said softly.
He dropped his hand slowly. “Yes, because everything I am today started with her.”
Sandra’s heart warmed as she listened.
“When I was a poor boy living under the bridge,” he said, “she used to bring me food. Sometimes it was just pap and akara. Sometimes just water, but it was always something.”
Sandra’s eyes widened. “You lived under a bridge?”
He nodded. “I lost both parents at nine years old. I slept anywhere I could, but she was always kind.” He looked toward the emergency door. “She paid my WAEC fee when I had no one. She pushed me to go back to school. She pushed me to fight for my future.”
Sandra swallowed hard. “Sir, I didn’t know.”
“Call me Harrison,” he said.
Sandra’s cheeks warmed. “Okay, Harrison.”
He smiled faintly. “For years, I tried looking for her. I even sent people, but she had disappeared from her old house. I didn’t know she was living like this.” His voice broke.
Sandra stepped closer. “You found her now,” she said. “And you came fast.”
He looked at her with gratitude. “I came because you cared enough to help her.”
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Chapter 8: New Beginnings
Two days later, Madame Sarah woke up. Her eyes were clearer. Her skin had regained color. She looked around the hospital room, confused at first, then surprised when she saw Sandra and Harrison sitting beside her bed.
“You… you both stayed with me?”
Harrison took her hand gently. “We’re not leaving you again.”
Madame Sarah’s eyes filled with tears. “Harrison, my boy,” he knelt beside her. “You saved me first,” he whispered. “Now it’s my turn.”
Sandra stood near the window, wiping her eyes secretly.
After the nurses checked on her, Harrison turned to Sandra. “You said you lost your job?”
Sandra nodded slowly. “It was because of her,” she admitted. “My boss said she saw everything on the CCTV.”
Harrison stood up straight, anger filling his eyes. “She punished you for being human.”
Sandra looked down. “It’s fine. I would do it again.”
“No,” Harrison said firmly. “It’s not fine.” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Sandra, from today, you’re not alone anymore.”
When Madame Sarah was discharged, Harrison didn’t drive them to any ordinary house. He took them to his mansion—a mansion bigger than Cynthia’s, with tall white pillars, shining floors, and wide gardens. Staff ran to open the gate the moment they arrived.
Sandra stood frozen at the entrance. “Sir, are you sure?”
“Yes,” Harrison said. “Both of you will stay here now.”
She looked down at her faded brown slippers. “My room is too small,” she whispered. “This place is too big for me.”
Harrison smiled. “Kindness is never too small. That is why your place is here.”
Madame Sarah held Sandra’s hand. “My daughter, this is God’s reward for your heart.”
Sandra swallowed her tears. She followed them inside. The maids rushed to help. The chef came out to greet them. The guards bowed slightly as they passed. For the first time in a long time, Sandra didn’t feel invisible.
Chapter 9: The New Life
That night, after dinner, Harrison called Sandra to the balcony. The breeze was cool. The city lights twinkled like stars on the ground. A faint smell of flowers drifted from the garden.
“Sandra,” he said gently. “Tell me about your life.”
She hesitated, then breathed out. “After my parents died, everything became hard. I tried to go to school. I even graduated.” She paused. “But no one wanted to hire me. People kept asking for recommendations. I had none.”
Harrison listened quietly.
“I became a maid to survive,” she said softly. “I didn’t plan it. Life just pushed me into it.” Her voice broke a little at the end.
Harrison stepped closer. “You graduated as what?”
“Accounting,” she whispered. “I was one of the best students in my class.”
He stared at her. “That means you’re exactly what my company needs.”
Sandra blinked. “What?”
“Sandra,” Harrison said, holding her hand gently, “you will work for my company as the assistant accountant officer.”
Her breath stopped in her chest. “Me?”
“Yes,” he said. “This is not pity. It is reward for kindness, and a good company needs good people.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Harrison, I… I don’t know what to say.”
He smiled softly. “Say you’ll start work on Monday.”
Sandra nodded slowly, then faster. “Yes, I will start.”
As she walked back to her room that night, her heart felt light for the first time in years. But unknown to her, life had more storms to come. More twists, more miracles, more heartbreak, more hope. And one day, this kindness she gave would lead her into a future she never imagined.
Chapter 10: Storms and Triumphs
The morning sun touched the windows of Harrison’s mansion like soft golden paint. Birds chirped outside, and a gentle breeze floated through the open curtains. For the first time in many years, Sandra woke up without fear in her chest.
The room Harrison gave her was simple but beautiful—clean sheets, a soft bed, a small reading table, and a wardrobe already filled with new clothes he bought for her. For a moment, she wondered if she was dreaming. Then she sat up and whispered, “Is this really happening to me?”
She touched her arm, then touched the bed again. It was real. But even though her heart felt light, her mind wasn’t still. What if I’m not good enough? What if I fail? What if this chance disappears?
Fear is like smoke. It can fill a whole room even when nothing is burning.
Sandra stepped down from the bed, knelt beside it, and prayed silently. God, please don’t let me disappoint this man. Or Madame Sarah. Please help me.
Downstairs, Madame Sarah sat comfortably on a soft sofa. She looked stronger now. Her cheeks had regained color and her eyes had life in them again. A nurse Harrison hired checked her vitals while a maid brought her warm tea.
Sandra walked in quietly. “Mama Sarah, good morning.”
“My daughter,” the old woman smiled, opening her arms. “Come.”
Sandra sat beside her gently. “You slept well?” Madame Sarah asked.
“Yes, mama.” Sandra nodded shyly.
“Good,” the old widow said. “Because today is the beginning of your new season.”
Before Sandra could answer, Harrison appeared dressed in a dark blue suit, looking like he stepped out of a magazine.
“Good morning,” he said warmly.
“Good morning, sir,” Sandra replied, standing quickly.
“Sandra,” he said, “I told you to call me Harrison.”
Sandra looked down. “Yes, Harrison.”
He smiled. “You start work today. My driver will take you. Don’t worry about anything. Just be yourself.”
Her heart skipped. “Thank you, sir—I mean, Harrison.”
Madame Sarah watched the two of them for a long moment. A tiny smile touched her lips, but she said nothing.
Chapter 11: Winning Respect
Andrews Global Holdings was nothing like the places Sandra had worked before. Tall glass buildings, security guards in black uniforms, clean floors shining like mirrors, employees walking fast with laptops in hand.
When the driver stopped at the entrance, Sandra couldn’t open the door for a few seconds. She just stared.
“This is another world,” she whispered.
“Madam, we have arrived,” the driver said gently.
“Oh, yes, thank you.” She stepped out carefully. She wore a clean navy blue corporate dress Harrison bought for her, simple heels, and light makeup the housemaid helped her with. People turned to look at her. Some smiled politely.
When she entered the reception, a lady behind the counter looked up. “Good morning. Welcome to Andrews Global. How may I help?”
The lady’s eyes widened. “Oh, are you the new assistant accountant officer?”
Sandra blinked. “Yes, that’s me.”
“You’re welcome.” The lady smiled warmly. “You’re expected upstairs. This way.”
Sandra followed her through a hallway filled with framed awards and pictures of Harrison shaking hands with world leaders and business partners. When the elevator opened on the eighth floor, the whole accounting department was waiting.
Mr. Coleman, a man in his late fifties with gray hair and kind eyes, stepped forward.
“You must be Sandra.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “I reviewed your school results. You are brilliant. We need people like you.”
Sandra’s eyes widened. “You looked at my results?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “Harrison sent them last night.”
Her heart fluttered. He believed in her even before she started.
For the first hour, everything went well. Mr. Coleman showed her her desk, the computer system, and the books she would be working with. But right when she began to settle in, a woman from the corner gave a sharp laugh.
Sandra turned. The woman was dressed expensively, sitting elegantly at her desk.
“Oh,” the woman said loudly. “So, this is the maid boss brought to work with us.”
Several people turned, some whispered, some looked away. Sandra’s heart dropped.
“I hear she used to clean floors,” the woman continued. “Now she will balance company accounts. Wonders shall never end.”
Sandra swallowed painfully.
Mr. Coleman frowned. “Grace, that’s enough.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “Sir, I’m just saying the truth.”
Mr. Coleman stepped closer to Sandra. “Don’t mind her. She behaves like this with everyone.”
But even his words couldn’t stop the sting. Sandra forced a smile. “It’s okay, sir.” But deep inside her heart trembled. God, please help me. Don’t let me fail.
At noon, Mr. Coleman gave her a test—a complicated financial report to review.
Grace smirked. “Let’s see if the maid can do this without a mop.”
Sandra inhaled deeply, sat at her desk, and opened the files. For a moment, her mind was blank. She felt everyone watching, waiting for her to fail. But then she remembered her university days, her late-night studying, her pride when she took first place. She picked up the calculator, then the pen, then the ledger. Her fingers remembered what her mind had forgotten.
She began to work slowly, carefully, confidently.
Two hours later, Sandra walked to Mr. Coleman’s office.
“Sir, I’m done.”
“You finished?” he asked, surprised.
“Yes, sir.”
He opened the report, brows lifted, mouth parted in shock. “Sandra, this is perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
She blushed. “Thank you, sir.”
He stood up. “Team,” he announced loudly, “our new assistant accountant just corrected an error we didn’t notice for two months.”
Gasps filled the room. People looked at her with new eyes. Even Grace dropped her pen in surprise.
Sandra’s heart swelled with quiet joy. For the first time in her life, she was being seen for who she really was.
Chapter 12: The Threat Returns
By the time the driver brought her back home, Sandra felt lighter than air. Inside the house, Madame Sarah hugged her tightly.
“How was work?”
“It was good, mama,” Sandra whispered, smiling. “Very good.”
Later that night, Harrison asked her to join him on the balcony again. The city lights sparkled below. The wind was cool. It felt peaceful.
“You did well today,” Harrison said softly. “Mr. Coleman told me everything.”
Sandra smiled shyly. “I tried.”
“You didn’t try,” he said. “You excelled.”
Their eyes met. A warm, strange feeling passed between them.
“Sandra,” Harrison said gently, “I just want you to know something.”
She looked at him. “Yes?”
“The world needs more people like you.”
Sandra felt her heart thump, but before she could respond, a loud scream came from inside the mansion.
Sandra jumped to her feet. “What was that?”
Another scream followed—high, frightened, shaky. It was Madame Sarah’s voice.
Harrison rushed into the house. Sandra ran behind him, panic filling her chest. They reached her room and froze.
Madame Sarah was sitting up on the bed, shaking violently, tears streaming down her face.
“Mama, what’s wrong? What happened?” Sandra cried.
Madame Sarah lifted her trembling hand and pointed toward the open window. Her voice cracked as she whispered, “He is back.”
Sandra’s heart slammed against her ribs. “Who, mama? Who is back?”
Madame Sarah’s voice dropped to a terrified whisper. “The man who wants to kill me.”
Sandra felt the blood drain from her face. Harrison’s eyes widened and the room fell silent.
The room fell into a cold silence. Sandra could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Harrison stood beside the bed, frozen, his eyes locked on Madame Sarah’s trembling hand, pointing toward the open window. Outside, the curtains fluttered gently in the night breeze. But something felt wrong, very wrong.
Sandra took a small step toward the bed. “Mama, please calm down. Who is back?”
Madame Sarah’s hands shook so much the bed sheets rustled beneath her fingers.
“He found us,” she whispered, her voice thin and cracking. “He—the man who chased me from my own house. The man who wanted me dead.”
Sandra felt her chest tighten. “Who is he?” she whispered. “Why would anyone want to harm you?”
Before she could answer, Madame Sarah grabbed Sandra’s wrist with surprising strength. “You must believe me,” she cried. “He is dangerous.”
Harrison moved closer, his voice calm but firm. “Mama Sarah, no one can harm you here. This house is protected. You are safe.”
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Safety left me years ago.” Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. Old tears from old wounds.
Sandra sat beside her slowly. “Mama, tell us what happened.”
Madame Sarah closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and began the past she tried to forget.
“I was not always poor,” she began, her voice soft. “Many years ago, I was a trader, a very successful one. I sold fabrics in Lagos Island. People knew me, trusted me.”
Her hands twisted nervously on the bed sheets. “But one day, I hired a young man to help in the shop. His name was Dapo. Quiet, polite, always smiling.”
Sandra and Harrison listened closely.
“At first, he looked hardworking. I trusted him. I treated him like a son. But he… he was stealing from me slowly every day.” Her voice cracked. “When I confronted him, he attacked me.”
Sandra gasped softly.
“He hit me, pushed me to the ground and ran with all the money we had made that week. I tried to report him, but he threatened me. He said he would finish what he started.”
Her hands shook harder.
“I left my shop for safety. I left everything. My life collapsed and when I moved to the small house I rented, he found me again.”
Sandra covered her mouth.
“He broke in,” Madame Sarah whispered. “I barely escaped. That night, I ran into the street with nothing. I hid under a bridge. And from that night onward, I never went back home again.”
Tears slipped down Sandra’s face.
“He followed me everywhere. Whenever I tried to rebuild my life, he appeared, calling my name, threatening me, taking what little I had saved.”
She looked at Harrison, her eyes filled with fear. “That man wants me dead. I saw him earlier. When I went out to buy something two days before the rain, he followed me again, and now he has found me here.”
Sandra felt chills crawl up her spine.
Harrison stood straight. His expression changed from calm to deadly serious. “What does he look like?” he asked.
“Tall, dark-skinned, a scar across his left cheek,” she whispered. “And eyes that looked like fire.”
Sandra felt her stomach twist. She remembered the scar. The description. It sounded like the man who grabbed her mother’s scarf in that hospital CCTV moment. The man from another story in her life. Her whole body trembled.
“Mama, are you sure?” Sandra whispered.
Madame Sarah nodded quickly. “That scar. I can never forget it.”
Sandra’s breath caught.
Harrison spoke in a low, steady voice. “I promise you, he will never touch you again. Not while you are in my house.”
Madame Sarah began to cry again. Sandra held her close, whispering softly, “You are safe now. You’re not alone anymore.”
That night, Harrison doubled the security at the gate. Two guards patrolled the compound. The dogs were released into the yard. Every camera was checked, but Sandra couldn’t sleep. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the wall. Her mind ran in circles. Who was this man? Could he be nearby? Was he watching the house? And why did fate keep bringing danger to the people she tried to help?
She closed her eyes and finally lay down. Sleep came slowly, like a heavy blanket.
Chapter 13: Love and Hope
Six months passed. Dapo did not appear again. Madame Sarah received therapy, food, love, and peace. Sandra grew into her job and became more confident each day. Her co-workers respected her now. Even Grace, who once
