The grand glass doors of Jupiter Hotel loomed before Sabi, a symbol of everything she despised. Ten years had passed since she last stood in front of this building, vowing to one day bring it to its knees. Now, she was here again, not as a guest, not as an owner, but as a desperate applicant.
She had gotten the opportunity to manage other smaller hotel but she wouldn't mind being a mere receptionist in Jupiter hotel.
She straightened her faded blazer, tilting her chin higher. The elegant suit-wearing professionals walking in and out of the building barely spared her a glance. She had no illusions about her position in society. She was still a pauper, but she was intelligent. Intelligent enough to know that to destroy something, you had to be inside it.
Her fingers curled around the resume she had spent weeks perfecting. Every internship, every small hotel job she had done, every certificate she could afford, it was all laid out neatly on those pages. She stepped inside, her heartbeat drumming in her ears, as the cool air-conditioned atmosphere swallowed her whole.
The interview was brutal. The interviewer, a stiff-looking man with graying hair and narrow eyes, barely looked at her before flipping through her resume. He barely skimmed the first page before clicking his tongue.
"You studied hospitality at a community college?" He asked, unimpressed.
Sabi forced herself to smile. "Yes, sir. And I've worked in some hotels as part of the admins"
"We prefer candidates from more prestigious institutions. Oxford, Harvard, at the very least somewhere with international recognition. I don't see anything extraordinary here."
The words stung, but Sabi had long since learned to keep her emotions in check.
"I understand," she said, though she didn't. "But I assure you, my experience in various hotel settings and my adaptability can contribute to the growth…"
"We'll keep your resume on file," he interrupted dismissively, already waving for the next applicant.
Sabi swallowed the lump in her throat and left the room without another word. She barely made it out of the office before anger and humiliation threatened to swallow her whole. She had prepared for this. She had worked tirelessly. And yet, just like that, she was deemed unworthy.
She stood outside the hotel for a long moment, breathing in the scent of wealth and success she had been denied.
But she wasn't done yet.
Her next application was a maid position.
A week later, she was hired.
"Stand straight. Don't make eye contact unless spoken to. Don't gossip, don't linger where you're not needed, and for the love of God, don't get involved in the guests' business." The head maid, a sharp-featured woman in her fifties named Joan, marched in front of the new recruits, her voice carrying the authority of someone who had spent her life cleaning up after the rich.
Sabi stood among the five other new maids, her posture stiff, and her eyes taking in everything. The hallway they stood in gleamed, gold-accented wallpaper, the scent of freshly polished floors, and the distant hum of luxury.
"Any questions?" Joan asked, her hawk-like gaze sweeping over them.
No one spoke.
"Good. Now follow me."
As they moved through the hotel, Joan rattled off schedules, responsibilities, and which floors they were assigned to. Sabi barely listened, instead noting the layout, the security cameras, and the people who moved with the most authority.
Then, they entered the grand lounge, and Sabi's attention was immediately stolen by a woman in a silk dress standing near the center of the room.
Paris.
Sabi knew who she was instantly. The infamous Mrs. Levi Callahan, she hated her sense of fashion.
Paris had an undeniable presence, a tall and striking woman with sleek brunette hair cascading down her back, her expensive gold jewelry flashing as she gestured animatedly while speaking to a staff member. Her lips were painted red, her heels impossibly high, and she carried herself like a queen surveying her kingdom.
Sabi despised her immediately.
It wasn't rational. Paris hadn't even looked her way. But watching her, the way she commanded the space, the way the employees tiptoed around her, reminded Sabi too much of what she had lost and what her mother must have gone through in the likes of Paris. This woman had everything. Power. Wealth. A life of luxury. Sabi wasn't sure if it was jealousy that was creeping in, she hoped it wasn't jealousy because she had more important businesses to deal with than have a beef with an insignificant woman like Paris, the wife of the CEO.
"That's Mrs. Callahan," Joan said quietly, as though speaking her name too loudly might summon her wrath. "She's… particular. If she asks you to do something, you do it. No questions. Don't upset her."
Sabi noted the subtle fear in Joan's voice.
Paris turned then, her eyes scanning the room. They landed briefly on Sabi, uninterested, before she shifted her attention elsewhere. To her, Sabi was just another face. Another servant to maintain her perfect little world.
That only fueled Sabi's resolve.
***
The next few hours were grueling. Sabi was assigned to clean the guest rooms, each task demeaning in its own way. She scrubbed floors, changed sheets, and emptied trash cans, all while being overlooked and ignored by guests who barely acknowledged her presence.
It didn't matter.
Every corner of this hotel held memories of her mother. Every hallway carried whispers of the pain she had buried for ten years. If suffering through this meant getting closer to her goal, she would endure it.
As she wheeled her cart down the hallway, she caught sight of Paris again, standing by the bar now, sipping something expensive while chatting with the hotel manager.
Paris laughed at something he said, leaning in close.
The manager, Mateo, if Sabi remembered correctly from her research smirked at her, a familiarity in his touch as he placed a hand on her waist.
Sabi tilted her head slightly. Interesting.
She looked away before they could notice her staring, suppressing the small, satisfied smile that threatened to form.
Yes.
This was only the beginning.