In a house filled with luxury, not everyone lives like royalty.
In the heart of a wealthy suburban estate stood the grand Williams mansion — a three-story building surrounded by white iron fences, trimmed gardens, and expensive cars parked out front. It was the kind of house most people only ever saw in dreams. It showed they never lacked anything money could buy. Inside, however, not all dreams were sweet. Not everyone in the house had what others had for free, let alone what money could buy.
It was a Saturday morning. The family of six bustled about in various states of comfort. In one room — pink, glittery, and sparkling clean — the Williams twins, Lily and Emily, giggled while trying on new dresses. Their laughter echoed down the marble hallways. In another room, Ryan, the youngest and only son, sat in his personal game room, glued to the screen as his new console hummed.
Down the hall, however, in the attic-like space above the staircase, a door creaked open to reveal a completely different world. A dull, cramped room with peeling paint, no carpet, and only a small, torn mattress on the floor. There was no wardrobe, no mirror, only curtains and a door to block the sunlight.
There, sitting quietly on the bed, dressed in oversized, faded clothes that barely matched, was Mia — the eldest child, yet treated like the least of them.
She was sixteen. Beautiful, but hidden behind the dirt on her cheeks and the sorrow in her eyes. Her hair was tied in a rough bun, and her hands were calloused from chores no one her age should be doing. She tied her worn-out sneakers, patched more times than she could count, and exhaled slowly.
Downstairs, the clinking of utensils and the aroma of breakfast wafted through the air, but none of it was for her.
She wasn't invited to the table. When there was food, she ate in a corner in the kitchen or in her room.
Only one person ever snuck her leftovers — Lily. Out of all her siblings, Lily was the only one who remembered that Mia existed beyond her duties. Last night, Lily had left a piece of bread under Mia's pillow with a scribbled note: "Hide this. Mama must not know. Stay strong, Mia. I love you."
Mia kept that note folded tightly in her pocket like a lifeline.
She descended the stairs quietly, avoiding the glossy tiles where her mother might see her reflection. Her eyes caught the sparkle of the chandelier in the dining room where the others laughed and feasted. Her stomach growled, but she ignored it.
"Lazy girl!" Mrs. Williams snapped from the table, not even turning to face her. "Why aren't the twins' uniforms ironed yet? You want them to be late for school?"
Mia bowed her head. "Sorry, Mom. I'll do it now."
"I don't need your sorry," she hissed. "Just be useful for once in your miserable life."
Her siblings didn't look up. Emily rolled her eyes. Ryan giggled. Lily lowered her head in shame but said nothing.
Mia picked up the iron and headed to the laundry room. Tears threatened to fall, but she had cried enough to fill rivers. She had to hold them in — like always.
At School
Mia's school uniform was several years old. The skirt was two inches too short, the blouse too tight at the shoulders. Her backpack was torn on one side and stitched with black thread. Yet, she walked with her head up. She had learned long ago that the world rarely showed mercy to the weak.
As her siblings rode in the family car, Mia took the public bus. She sat by the window and watched the trees blur past as her thoughts drifted.
Once at school, the mockery began before she even stepped through the gate.
"Here comes the rag princess," someone whispered.
"Did she bathe in dust this morning?" another giggled.
Mia clenched her fists. She focused on getting to her classroom, her safe corner. At least in class, she had books — and books didn't lie or judge.
She was brilliant, despite it all. Always at the top of her class. But that only made the others hate her more.
Except one.
Jake. The handsome guy of the class. Eighteen, tall, with brown hair and soft eyes that seemed to see through everything. He sat at the back of the class, quiet but sharp. He didn't laugh when others mocked Mia. In fact, he stood up for her more than once.
Today was no different.
As Mia entered the room, one of the girls tripped her on purpose. Her books scattered.
"Oh, sorry, Maid Mia," the girl smirked.
Jake stood. "You think that's funny?"
The class fell silent.
Jake walked over, picked up Mia's books, and handed them to her.
"She's smarter than all of you combined. You're the joke here."
Mia's heart raced as she took the books from him. Her hands trembled.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He gave her a small smile. "Anytime."
She sat in her edge of the class. As soon as the class finished, she rushed out, heading home as fast as she could to avoid another scolding from her mother.
Mia's Seventeenth Birthday
Mia's seventeenth birthday came with silence.
No card. No cake. No smile. Not even anyone that remembered it was her birthday. It had always been like that all these years.
She cleaned the house as usual. Prepared meals. Did the laundry. She watched the others eat the food she cooked without ever thanking her.
Even Mrs. Williams acted like it was just another day.
That night, she sat alone in her tiny room, staring at the only photo she had left of her real father — the man who once held her close and told her stories under the stars. The only one that cared about her. He had divorced her mother, Mrs. Williams, years ago, shortly after birth, after she requested a divorce, saying he was too poor to take care of her. He died five years ago. Since then, she had been tossed around like a burden. Since she had no one again except her mother — now Mrs. Williams — she had traced and found her, due to what her father told her about her on his sickbed, hoping to get another person to take care of her.
But it wasn't like that. Her life had been a total hell since then. Even her mother treated her more like trash and treated her other children — the ones she gave birth to with a rich man — like angels.
Her memories of her good days with her father flashed through her head as she sobbed.
She hugged her pillow, biting it to muffle the sobs. "I miss you, Dad," she whispered. "I wish you took me with you."
Tears soaked her cheeks. The ache in her chest felt like it might break her.
Then, a sudden tap on her window.
She wiped her eyes and looked out.
Jake.
He stood outside her window, holding a small chocolate bar and a crooked smile.
"Happy Birthday, Mia," he whispered.
Her eyes widened. "How did you…?"
"You mentioned it once, months ago. I remembered."
She opened the window, and he handed her the chocolate.
"I don't have much, but… I wanted you to know someone cares."
Tears welled in her eyes again. This time, not from pain — but from being seen. The first time in five years she had another soul wish her a happy birthday after the death of her father.
He sang her a quiet birthday song, right there under the moonlight through the window.
For the first time in years, Mia smiled on her birthday. It was a very joyful day for her.
The Next Day
Saturday.
Mrs. Williams stood by the front door with her purse.
"I'm going shopping. This house better be spotless before I return."
"Yes, Mom," Mia replied.
She started cleaning. Mopping, dusting, scrubbing floors. Her siblings were in the room pressing their phones or playing games. Mr. Williams watched television, pretending Mia didn't exist.
Just as Mrs. Williams left, as Mia bent over to clean the hallway tiles, she felt a sudden, light touch on her back.
She turned quickly, startled.
It was Mr. Williams, standing too close.
Her eyes widened.
He wasn't supposed to be there.
"Need help with that?" he asked with a strange smile.
Mia's breath caught in her throat.
Everything inside her screamed.
TO BE CONTINUED