The bright light of the massive crystal chandelier washed over the grand foyer, casting long shadows across the pristine white marble floor.
Helena knelt on the freezing stone, her trembling hands wringing out a dirty rag into a dented plastic bucket.
Soapy, grey water sloshed over the rim, puddling around her worn knees and threadbare uniform.
Four heavy-set security guards stood over her like a wall of dark suits, watching her every move with cold, unfeeling eyes.
Security Guard: Scrub faster, girl. Mrs. Vance expects this marble spotless before the evening guests arrive.
Helena: I'm trying... my hands are so cold I can barely hold the rag.
Security Guard: Nobody asked for your excuses. Keep your head down and keep moving.
Helena bit her lower lip, fighting back the hot tears stinging her eyes as she scrubbed at a stubborn streak of grime.
Her back burned with a dull, constant ache from hours of relentless labor, and her knees were completely numb against the hard floor.
She hadn't seen the sun in three months, kept locked in the servant quarters of the vast estate like a forgotten ghost.
Suddenly, the heavy double oak front doors swung open with a deep creak, letting in a sharp gust of wind.
Heavy leather shoes clicked firmly against the marble entry, accompanied by the distinct rolling sound of heavy luggage wheels.
Helena didn't dare look up, terrified of earning another harsh punishment for slacking off on her duties.
In her hurry to clear the way, her shaking hands accidentally knocked against the side of the plastic bucket.
With a sudden splash, dirty soapy water flooded across the polished floor, soaking the hem of a dark grey tailored suit pant leg.
Helena: I'm sorry, sir! I'm so sorry! Please don't tell Mrs. Vance!
She dropped to her hands and knees immediately, frantically wiping at the wet leather shoes with her damp rag.
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the massive entryway as the man stood completely still above her.
Slowly, the man dropped the handles of his leather suitcases, the loud thud echoing through the high-ceilinged mansion.
Ethan: Helena...?
Helena froze, the breath catching in her throat as she recognized that deep, familiar voice she thought she would never hear again.