The vast marble floor stretched across the entrance hall like a cold white sea.
Clara lowered herself down onto the polished surface with extreme care.
Her hands trembled as she pressed the damp blue sponge against the stone.
Every small movement caused a dull ache to ripple through her lower back.
She was six months pregnant and exhausted from working without any real rest.
Tears dripped steadily from her eyes onto the smooth marble floor below her.
She kept her head down because she feared the sharp sound of heels coming.
The towering US flag hung silently on the wall behind the glass staircase.
It represented freedom, but Clara felt completely trapped inside this home.
She dipped the sponge back into the plastic bucket beside her bruised knees.
The cold water washed over her red fingers, but she did not complain aloud.
Her simple black and white maid uniform felt tight around her round stomach.
She had to keep working if she wanted to protect her precious unborn baby.
A loud sound echoes from the front porch out in the cool afternoon air.
Clara froze in place and held her breath while gripping the wet sponge tightly.
The heavy double doors suddenly swung open with a strong gust of wind.
A man stepped inside while pulling a heavy black suitcase behind his coat.
It was Arthur, returning home early from his long business trip overseas.
He stopped dead in his tracks the second he saw Clara on the ground.
His face turned completely pale as he looked at her frail posture.
"Clara?" he asked, dropping his suitcase handle onto the floor immediately.
She tried to wipe her face quickly with the back of her wet sleeve.
"I am just cleaning, sir," she whispered softly with a shaking voice.
Arthur stepped forward, his boots clicking sharply against the hard tile floor.
He saw the red marks on her face before she could look away again.
"What happened to your face?" he asked, his voice filled with deep worry.
Clara lowered her gaze and squeezed the sponge until her knuckles turned white.
She wanted to speak, but the terror inside her heart kept her completely quiet.
The sound of slow clicking heels began to echo from the glass staircase.
Victoria walked down the steps with an arrogant smile resting on her lips.
She held a half-full glass of red wine in her right manicured hand.
Her expensive champagne dress swept gracefully along the clear glass steps.
"Welcome home, darling," Victoria said, totally ignoring Clara on the floor.
"Why is she on her knees cleaning like this?" Arthur demanded sharply.
Victoria took a slow sip of her wine and let out a light laugh.
"She is the maid, Arthur," Victoria replied smoothly with a shrug.
"She needs to earn her keep if she expects to stay here."
Arthur stared at his stepmother with complete shock and growing anger.
"She is not just a maid to this family," Arthur said firmly.
Victoria glared down at the young woman scrubbing near her high heels.
"She is whatever I say she is while you are away traveling."
Clara backed away slightly, her heart pounding frantically against her ribs.
She knew that Victoria held immense power over this grand estate.
Arthur pulled his mobile phone from his coat pocket with a cold glare.
He had received an anonymous video file just ten minutes before arriving.
His fingers shook as he tapped the screen to play the short clip.
The sub-bass rumble of anger vibrated deep inside his heavy chest now.