The diner smelled of burnt coffee and fried grease. The flickering overhead light buzzed like an angry wasp, and the tired chatter of the late-night customers blurred into white noise.
Sienna Carter stood behind the counter, gripping the edge of the register to keep herself from swaying. Her body ached from exhaustion. She had been on her feet since dawn—first at the convenience store, then at the laundromat, and now here. The graveyard shift at Manny's Diner was the worst, but it paid just enough to keep the electricity running and her father's medicine stocked.
She glanced at the time: 1:45 AM. Just a little longer.
"Order up!" Manny's gruff voice snapped her out of her daze. She turned, quickly grabbing the two plates from the counter—greasy cheeseburgers with cold fries.
With a forced smile, she set them down in front of the truckers at table six. "Enjoy your meal."
They barely acknowledged her. Just as well. She preferred it that way.
Her hands trembled as she wiped down the counter. The fatigue was getting worse. She had skipped dinner again, saving the last few dollars in her pocket for her father's hospital bills. You can't afford to get sick, Sienna. Not now.
The door jingled open, and a gust of cold air swept through the diner. A group of drunk college students stumbled in, laughing obnoxiously. Sienna braced herself. They were the worst kind of customers—loud, entitled, and impossible to please.
"Yo, sweetheart!" One of the guys, blond and reeking of alcohol, leaned against the counter with a smirk. "We need a round of fries. Extra crispy."
Sienna nodded, suppressing a sigh. "Coming right up."
She turned toward the kitchen, but a sharp snap behind her made her stop.
"Hey! I was talking to you."
Her grip tightened around the notepad. She had dealt with men like this before. The best strategy was to ignore, serve, and leave.
But before she could move, Blond Guy reached out and grabbed her wrist.
"I said—"
The sound of shattering glass cut him off.
Everyone in the diner went silent as Manny stormed out of the kitchen, a broken plate still in his fist. His face was red with anger. "Get your damn hands off my waitress!"
Blond Guy scoffed but let go. "Relax, old man. We were just playing."
"Get out," Manny growled. "Before I call the cops."
The guys exchanged glances, then, grumbling, threw a few crumpled bills on the table before heading for the door.
Sienna exhaled, pressing a hand to her chest.
Manny turned to her, his rough features softening. "You okay, kid?"
She nodded quickly. "I'm fine."
He muttered under his breath and picked up a rag to clean the counter. "You shouldn't be working this late, Sienna. It's not safe."
It's not about safety. It's about survival.
But she didn't say that. She just smiled weakly and went back to work.
3:12 AM.
Sienna stepped out into the cold night air, wrapping her coat tighter around her thin frame. The streets of Brooklyn were eerily quiet, the neon lights of the 24-hour pharmacy casting long shadows on the cracked pavement.
She walked quickly, her breath visible in the chilly air. Her apartment was only five blocks away, but at this hour, every dark alley felt like a potential threat.
By the time she reached the old brick building, her hands were numb. She climbed the creaky staircase to the third floor, stopping outside apartment 3B.
Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the door and stepped inside.
The air smelled of old books and faint antiseptic. In the dim light, she could see the small hospital bed in the corner of the living room—her father lay there, his breathing shallow.
A wave of guilt hit her. She should have been home earlier.
She moved closer, brushing a strand of graying hair from his forehead. "Dad?"
His eyes fluttered open, weak but filled with warmth. "Hey, sweetheart."
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Did you take your meds?"
He chuckled weakly. "Yes, ma'am."
Liar. The untouched pill bottle on the nightstand told a different story.
Sienna exhaled and sat beside him. "You have to take them, Dad."
He reached for her hand, his fingers frail. "You work too hard, baby girl. This isn't the life I wanted for you."
She forced a smile. "It's temporary."
A sudden coughing fit wracked his body, shaking his thin frame. Sienna panicked, grabbing the water glass and helping him sip.
When the fit passed, he sagged against the pillow, eyes heavy with exhaustion.
Sienna's chest tightened. He was getting worse.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out and frowned at the unknown number.
Hesitating, she answered. "Hello?"
A clipped, professional voice responded. "Is this Sienna Carter?"
"Yes."
"This is Brooklyn General Hospital. I'm calling regarding your father's medical bills."
Her stomach dropped.
"We regret to inform you that if payment is not made within the next seventy-two hours, we will be forced to discontinue his treatment."
The room blurred.
Seventy-two hours.
That was impossible.
"Please," she whispered. "I just need more time—"
"I'm sorry, Miss Carter. But we have policies."
The call ended, and Sienna stood frozen, the phone slipping from her fingers.
No. No. This can't be happening.
She sank onto the floor, pressing a hand to her mouth to keep from sobbing.
Her father stirred. "Sienna?"
She forced herself to smile. "Everything's fine, Dad. Go back to sleep."
He closed his eyes again, unaware of the storm raging inside her.
The next morning.
Sienna sat in the manager's office at Manny's Diner, clutching her apron.
Manny sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, kid. Business is slow, and I can't afford extra staff."
The words echoed in her head.
"I—" Her throat tightened. "Manny, please. I need this job."
"I know. And if I could keep you, I would." He reached into his drawer and handed her an envelope. "Severance pay. It's not much, but—"
She took it numbly, her fingers barely registering the crisp bills.
Outside, the city bustled—people rushing to work, laughter from a passing group of school kids.
Her world had just crumbled, but for everyone else, life went on.
She wandered aimlessly, her father's face haunting her mind. What do I do now?
As if fate heard her silent plea, a voice called out.
"Miss Carter?"
Sienna turned, startled to see an elegantly dressed older woman. Mrs. Green.
The woman gave a knowing smile. "I hear you're looking for work."
Sienna blinked, nodding cautiously.
Mrs. Green studied her, then offered a crisp white card. "The Calloway estate needs a new live-in maid. It's… demanding work, but the pay is generous."
The Calloway estate?
Sienna had heard the name before. Adrian Calloway. The ruthless billionaire who owned half of New York.
She hesitated. Something about this felt… ominous.
Mrs. Green's eyes softened. "You need money, don't you?"
Sienna looked down at the card.
Three days. That's all she had before the hospital cut off her father's treatment.
She didn't have a choice.
She tightened her grip on the card.
"I'll take the job."