My parents were always a little too kind to our housekeeper, treating her more like family than an employee. When her daughter came to stay with us for the summer, she slowly tried to weave herself into our lives—acting diligent, sweet-talking my parents, and playing the part of the perfect girl. She even started using our family driver to take her to parties, and my parents, in their generosity, always allowed it. That was until I came home early one day and overheard her coaxing my mother: "Auntie, since Riley is committed to being child-free anyway, she’ll never give you grandbabies." "Why don't you just take me in as your legal god-daughter? I could marry your nephew, Parker. That way, the babies stay in the family, and you can finally have the big, happy family you deserve." 1 Mrs. Dawson had been acting distracted lately. Her chores were half-done, and she seemed to be carrying a heavy weight on her shoulders. Worried, my mom finally pulled her aside to ask what was wrong. It turned out her daughter, Tiffany, was finishing up her junior year at a community college in the city. With summer break starting, the dorms were closing, and she had nowhere to go. They were from a small town across the country, and a last-minute flight home was too expensive. Besides, Tiffany had an internship lined up in the city starting next month, and the back-and-forth travel would be a waste of money. But renting a place near us? A month's rent and expenses would eat up half of Mrs. Dawson’s salary. Mrs. Dawson had been our housekeeper for over ten years. She was meticulous, gentle, and had saved my parents a lot of headaches over the decade. My mom didn't hesitate. She glanced upstairs. "We have plenty of guest rooms on the second floor." Mrs. Dawson protested, saying it would be an imposition, but my mom just smiled. "It’s fine. Those rooms are just gathering dust anyway." The next day, Tiffany arrived with her suitcases. My parents, assuming a college student would have a lot of gear, sent our driver, Arthur, to pick her up from the train station. An hour later, I heard voices in the driveway. Arthur was hauling two massive suitcases, sweating through his uniform, while a young girl walked behind him empty-handed, chatting and laughing as if they were old friends. Mrs. Dawson rushed out to meet her, fussing over her as if she’d just returned from a war zone. "Oh, honey! Is it too hot out? Were those bags too heavy for you?" Arthur dropped the bags in the foyer, panting, and wiped his brow. I finally spoke up. "Mrs. Dawson, maybe get Arthur a glass of water?" Tiffany looked up. Her gaze bypassed me entirely, landing straight on my mother sitting in the living room. She beamed, revealing a pair of sweet dimples, and gave a respectful little bow. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Miller. I'm so sorry for the trouble." My mom smiled and gestured toward the stairs. "Riley, why don't you and Mrs. Dawson show Tiffany to her room?" We went up to the second floor. Tiffany trailed behind us as Mrs. Dawson gave her the tour. "This is Riley’s room, and that smaller one next to it is her walk-in closet." "And this little room here... that's for Riley’s dog." Tiffany’s eyes widened. "The dog has its own room?" I was sitting on the rug, brushing my Pomeranian. I looked up calmly. "Yes. Bentley is basically my child." Tiffany asked curiously, "Then, Riley, where will your actual kids stay?" Mrs. Dawson cut her off before I could respond. "Riley isn't having children. Don't be nosy about other people's business, Tiffany." Aside from my room and Bentley’s, there were three guest rooms. Tiffany peered into the others. "There are clothes in this one. Is someone staying here?" "That’s for my cousin, Parker," I said. "He stays with us sometimes during his breaks." I pointed to a smaller room at the end of the hall. "Mrs. Dawson just cleaned that one. It has fresh linens. You’ll be staying there." Tiffany looked at it, then sighed, rubbing her arm. "Riley, I’ve been having some really bad allergies lately. The doctor said I need as much sunlight as possible. That room looks a bit cold and damp. I’m afraid if my skin gets worse, it might be contagious." Mrs. Dawson looked at me awkwardly, then at her daughter. "Which room did you have in mind then?" I asked. Tiffany scanned the three rooms and pointed to one. "Could I have that one? The light looks amazing there." I followed her finger. The room she wanted was the one directly connected to my cousin Parker’s suite. 2 I don’t know what Mrs. Dawson said to my mother, but Mom let Tiffany have the room. Since it was summer break and she had nothing to do, Tiffany spent her days "helping" her mother around the house. Sometimes I’d wake up near noon and go downstairs to see Mrs. Dawson busy in the kitchen while Tiffany sat on the sofa with my mom, watching TV. "Going to the office today, Riley?" Tiffany would jump up to grab my bag the moment I stepped out. I bent down to put on my shoes. "No. I have my own art studio and café to run." My mom laughed. "Our Riley has no interest in the corporate world. She studied fine arts abroad and loves tinkering with her pastries and coffee now." Tiffany sighed regretfully. "That’s such a shame. Who’s going to take over the family empire?" My dad walked in from the garden just then. Hearing her, he joked, "With a group this big, if no one in the family wants it, I guess the board of directors will just have to handle it. No heirs in this house!" "Mr. Miller, I’m actually a business major," Tiffany said enthusiastically. "My professor just started teaching us how to analyze financial statements. Maybe I could help you look over some market trends sometime." My dad gave her a hearty, encouraging smile. "Not bad! It’s good for young people to keep learning." He headed to his study, leaving my mom, Mrs. Dawson, and Tiffany in the living room. Mrs. Dawson started sighing, telling my mom that Tiffany was actually a straight-A student, but she had "panic attacks" during her SATs, which is why she ended up at a community college instead of an Ivy League. My mom sipped her tea and comforted her. "It’s alright. She can always transfer or go to a top-tier grad school later." "Transferring or grad school in the U.S. is so competitive though," Tiffany said, glancing at me before turning back to my mom. "I’m so jealous of Riley. She doesn't have to do anything but hang out with friends and go shopping." "I wish I could have studied abroad too." 3 I glanced toward the kitchen where Mrs. Dawson was still scrubbing the stove. "Studying abroad isn't that simple. There’s the funding, the language prep, the applications." "If I recall, Mrs. Dawson said your tuition was currently covered by student loans?" Tiffany stiffened for a second, then quickly turned to pour more tea for my mom. "Yeah, but I’ll pay those off in a month or two once I graduate. I just don't want my mom to have to work so hard." Mrs. Dawson used to always talk about how "sensible" and "brilliant" Tiffany was. My parents, knowing it wasn't easy for a single mother to raise a daughter, offered more words of comfort, echoing Mrs. Dawson’s praise of Tiffany’s "filial piety." I thought that was the end of it, but that afternoon, our driver Arthur mentioned something while picking me up. Apparently, Mrs. Dawson had asked my mom for a massive cash advance on her salary to pay off Tiffany’s tuition upfront. Since she’d been with us for ten years and her contract still had six months on it, my mom figured it was fine to give her the money early. "Mrs. Dawson’s had it rough," Arthur sighed. "No education, but she raised a daughter who made it to college. Good thing the girl is so bright." "She’s sweet and takes care of her mom. No wonder Mrs. Dawson listens to everything she says." When I got home, I was carrying several packages. There was a big sale on a luxury pet site, so I’d stocked up on premium treats and organic food for Bentley. I walked into a strangely quiet house. As I sat on the floor to unbox the packages, I heard footsteps on the stairs—Tiffany and Mrs. Dawson were coming down from the second floor. I looked around. Usually, the moment Bentley heard my footsteps, he’d come charging down to greet me. "Buying more stuff, Riley?" Tiffany glanced at the boxes, her tone unreadable. "How much does all that cost? You really treat that dog like a prince." "Mrs. Dawson, where's Bentley?" I asked, not looking up from the tape I was cutting. "Oh, he was being a nuisance, so Tiffany suggested we put him on the balcony," Mrs. Dawson said, pouring herself a glass of water. "He was getting underfoot while I was vacuuming. Back in my hometown, a dog like that would get a good swat to teach him some manners." "Dogs are naturally low-class. You have to show them who’s boss, or they’ll think they own the place." "You left him on the balcony all afternoon?" I roared, standing up so fast I knocked over a box. I shoved past them and sprinted upstairs. It was the middle of July. The temperature outside was nearly 100 degrees. Sure enough, I pushed open the glass door to find Bentley huddled in a tiny corner of shade, panting heavily, his body burning to the touch. I scooped him up, rushed downstairs, and ran straight for the bathroom. "Mrs. Dawson! Get me lukewarm water and some ice packs! Now!" Seeing my face, Mrs. Dawson panicked. "Okay! I’m going!" We worked on him for nearly an hour. Finally, Bentley started to revive, his tail giving a weak little wag. Tiffany watched the whole thing, looking bored. "Riley, don't you think you’re being a little dramatic over a dog?" "Auntie Miller told me you treat this dog like he's a little god, even more important than your own parents." "A dog is just a dog. It can't even talk. Your parents were just saying how quiet and lonely the house feels without any grandchildren." I slammed a box of dog food onto the floor. The sound echoed like a gunshot. She jumped, staring at me in shock. "This dog cost me five thousand dollars!" I walked toward her, step by step, a cold smile on my face. "I treat him like a god because he’s worth more to me than you are. Even my actual relatives don't dare touch my private business." "Who the hell do you think you are?" 4 Tiffany was terrified. Her eyes turned red instantly. Mrs. Dawson rushed to comfort her. "Oh, it's okay! Riley’s just stressed!" She turned to me, trying to play the mediator. "Riley, Tiffany didn't know. Don't take it out on her." My parents walked in just then, carrying shopping bags. Seeing the standoff, my dad asked, "What’s going on? Why is everyone standing around in the living room?" Mrs. Dawson quickly explained, "Nothing much. Tiffany just put Riley’s dog outside, and he almost got heatstroke." "Oh?" My mom glanced at Bentley, frowning. "Is he okay?" "He’s not okay! I came home and found him barely breathing!" Before I could finish, Tiffany’s tears started falling in giant drops. "Auntie, is the dog really that expensive?" "I didn't know. I just saw my mom working so hard to clean, and the dog was making a mess. I was just trying to help." The moment she said that, Mrs. Dawson doubled down, pleading with my mom: "Tiffany didn't know the dog was so valuable..." "She was just looking out for me. Who knew Riley had such a temper..." The two of them were a perfect duo—one crying, one apologizing with a long face, making it look like I was the villain bullying them. Mrs. Dawson had been with us for a long time, and my mom was clearly getting a headache from the drama. "From now on, don't touch anything in this house without permission," Mom said. She pulled Tiffany aside and said firmly, "Apologize to Riley. You’re new here; it’s natural you don't know the house rules yet." It was a graceful exit my mom provided, largely for Mrs. Dawson’s sake. Tiffany hesitated for a long time before mumbling, "I'm sorry..." Mrs. Dawson quickly grabbed my hand and Tiffany’s hand, stacking them together. "Your sister Riley has a good heart. She won't hold it against you." "She’s known you since you were a baby, Riley. You two should be like sisters." I coldly pulled my hand away. Tiffany’s hand was left hanging awkwardly in the air. My mom picked up Bentley. "Well, we’re heading to the lake house tomorrow to escape the heat anyway. We’ll bring Bentley. The fresh air will do him good." Our family had a vacation home in the Hamptons. We went every year during the peak of summer. "Riley, can you make it this time?" my dad asked. "Didn't you say the new café opening was coming up?" I took Bentley back and rubbed his head. "I probably can't. We’re short-staffed." The new café was in its final stages. My business partner was away on a business trip, so I was the only one available to oversee the site. Usually, when we went to the Hamptons, we took Mrs. Dawson to help with the cooking. Since I was staying behind and had just clashed with Tiffany, Mrs. Dawson said awkwardly, "Maybe... I should take Tiffany with me?" "That way Riley can have some peace and quiet at home." My mom, knowing my temper, knew that if she left me alone with Tiffany, there’d be another explosion. "Take her along, then." "But we only have the one guest room available there." Tiffany immediately gave a sweet smile. "Auntie, I can just share a room with my mom. It’s no problem at all." 5 After my parents left, the house felt empty. I was buried in the final renovations for the café, coming home and falling straight into bed. It took a few days of living like a zombie before I remembered to check in on them. I scrolled through Instagram. Mrs. Dawson hadn't posted much, but my mom was active. There were photos of her reading by a floor-to-ceiling window and looking out over the water from the deck. I chuckled to myself. My dad’s photography skills were finally improving. But then I saw a reflection in my mom’s sunglasses—the silhouette of a young girl. I realized then that Tiffany had commented on almost every single one of my mother’s posts. Tiffany had added me on social media a while back, claiming she wanted me to send her some "lifestyle photos" of her mom. We had never actually spoken online, but now her name was all over my mom’s feed. Tiffany: [So beautiful! Who took this amazing shot? Me, of course! Hahaha.] [Auntie, you look so young! I’m so jealous of your skin, ugh!] [Gorgeous! I’m officially your personal photographer now! Uncle Miller is retired!] I felt a strange tightness in my chest. I scrolled through Mrs. Dawson’s feed. There were only a handful of photos, and Tiffany hadn't even liked them. I decided to text my mom to see when they were coming back. She replied almost instantly. [Next week, honey. Why? Do you want to join us?] [Is it too hot in the city?] I typed back quickly: [Not really.] [It’s just summer break. Parker said he’s coming over in a few weeks to visit you.] Parker was my mom’s favorite nephew. The moment she heard that, her tone shifted. [Oh! Then I’ll come back this weekend.] [Get the guest rooms ready. Have the linens washed and changed.] I thought my mom was joking. But a few days later, I heard the front door open. My mom was back. "Ugh, I forgot how bad the city heat is. It was so much nicer at the lake." "Riley, you should have come. How have you been? Have you been living off takeout again?" "I brought back some organic wild berries. I'll have Mrs. Dawson make you a smoothie tonight." I looked behind them. Someone was missing. "Mrs. Dawson, is your daughter not with you?" Mrs. Dawson was busy organizing bags of organic produce in the kitchen. "No. On the way back, she got a call from some friends. Apparently, there’s a big party tonight." I didn't think much of it and went upstairs. But soon, I saw Tiffany’s latest post. She was taking a selfie in my family’s Mercedes, carefully making sure the logo was visible. She was surrounded by a crowd, wearing a designer dress and sunglasses, smiling like a star. The caption read: "The Miller Princess is back in town!" 6 I don't have many hobbies, but I love clothes. Sometimes I buy things, wear them once or twice, and then get bored. My closet was overflowing. Every season, my mom and I would pack up several bags of clothes to donate to charity. In the last batch, there were a few designer dresses from a high-end French brand. Since I’d been spending all my time at the construction site, I’d been wearing denim shorts and old t-shirts every day. I’d given a bunch of those older "work" clothes to Mrs. Dawson to take to the local donation center. I looked at the dress Tiffany was wearing in her photo. It was one of the designer dresses I’d put in the donation pile. I get the vanity of a young girl. A two-thousand-dollar dress is no small thing. But I never said she could have it. Technically, wasn't this theft? That evening, I stood by the second-floor window and saw Arthur pull into the driveway. Tiffany stepped out of the backseat with an air of elegance. She and Arthur were chatting as they walked in. She was carrying a stack of gift bags—probably presents from her "friends." "Mom! What's for dinner?" Tiffany walked into the kitchen in her heels. "Wow! Roasted chicken! Smells amazing~" I stood on the landing, watching her. She didn't look like the shy college student who had arrived a few weeks ago in a plain t-shirt and skirt. Now, she was glowing with confidence, draped in designer brands. Last week, she’d claimed her phone was broken and asked if we had any "spare" iPhones lying around. After I said no, she’d pestered her mother until Mrs. Dawson used two months of her salary to buy her the latest model. "Arthur, were you out with Tiffany?" I asked as I walked slowly down the stairs. Arthur looked a bit embarrassed. "No, I just saw her on my way back and gave her a lift." Tiffany was an expert at networking. She was sweet and knew exactly how to charm my parents. To outsiders, it looked like she had already been integrated into the Miller family. Arthur went to rest for a bit before picking up my dad from the office. Tiffany walked out of the kitchen. She saw me and instinctively smoothed her dress, looking a bit awkward. "Hey, Riley." To be honest, aside from the incident with Bentley, her little power moves hadn't really affected me. I was too busy to care. "Mrs. Dawson, I thought I told you to take those clothes to the donation center," I said with a smile. "If Tiffany needed clothes, you should have told me. I have plenty of old things I could have given her." Tiffany’s face turned bright red. She turned to her mother, frowning. "Mom, you told me you bought this for me! Why is it Riley’s? You forgot to pay her for it again, didn't you?" Mrs. Dawson froze, then quickly fumbled for her phone. "Riley, I’m so sorry. I saw this dress and it looked so new, so I took it. How much was it?" I looked at Mrs. Dawson, then at Tiffany. It was obvious Tiffany was throwing her mother under the bus. Judging by Mrs. Dawson’s reaction, they hadn't discussed this "lie" beforehand. Seeing that, I felt a wave of pity for the woman. Tiffany was Mrs. Dawson’s only pride and joy, which is why she spoiled her so much, giving her everything she asked for. But it was clear that Mrs. Dawson could no longer keep up with Tiffany’s appetite. "The dress was two thousand retail. But since I’ve worn it a few times, just give me five hundred." Normally, I wouldn't care about a used dress or five hundred dollars. But I wanted to give Mrs. Dawson a wake-up call after all her years of service. Tiffany had bet that I wouldn't ask for money from her mother. She never expected me to actually name a price. The mother and daughter were stunned. Mrs. Dawson fumbled with her phone for a long time. "How about... I just take it out of next month's—" "Mrs. Dawson, you’ve already taken an advance for Tiffany’s tuition," I said. I smiled, leaving no room for negotiation. "Venmo it to me." ... That night, as I passed the kitchen, I heard them arguing. "Mom! Why can't you just get on better terms with Riley’s parents? I’m starting my internship soon. You need to have her dad put me in the corporate office!" "Look at how much money you’ve spent these last few weeks! That’s half a year's salary for me!" "You have to spend money to fit in with people like them! If I don't wear nice clothes, everyone at the office will look down on me." "I tried talking to Mrs. Miller about the internship, but she didn't take the bait. I don't think they see us as equals," Mrs. Dawson sighed. Tiffany lowered her voice, speaking rapidly. "Mom! You've worked for them for over ten years. You’ve earned this! And I’m a business major. It’s not like I'm asking for a handout. If Mr. Miller mentors me, I’ll be ten times better than Riley." "She just stays up late painting and making coffee. She only got into that school because you guys paid for it. We’re just as good; we just don't have the money." "If I play my cards right with Auntie Miller, maybe she’ll take me in as a god-daughter. Then we’ll finally be set!" "You’re just a small-town woman, Mom. You have no vision. Listening to you is why we’re stuck like this." I listened to them in silence, feeling only amusement. They saw us as a meal ticket. I’d thought about warning Mrs. Dawson, but seeing this, I realized there was no point. Renovations at the café were done, and I was back to my boring routine. I was actually curious to see what kind of "waves" this college senior thought she could make. Tiffany didn't disappoint me. She couldn't sit still for long. 7 After she’d been staying with us for two weeks, my dad suddenly asked during lunch: "So, Tiffany, when does your internship start?" I was casually watching TV, not joining the conversation. Tiffany’s eyes lit up. "I actually found an internship, but I decided not to take it." My mom looked up. "Why? It’s hard to find good internships these days." "I know, but the firm expected a lot of overtime. They wanted me staying until 8 or 9 PM every night," Tiffany sighed. "And even though they said weekends were off, the HR manager mentioned I’d likely be writing reports from home." "The benefits weren't great either. Just the bare minimum." Tiffany grew more animated. "And the pay! It was only three thousand a month. My mom makes more than that as a housekeeper." My dad chuckled. "So, what kind of job are you looking for?" This was exactly the opening Tiffany wanted. She looked at my mom, sitting up straight and acting poised. "Nothing too crazy. Just a standard 9-to-5 with weekends off and full benefits. I don't want to be a regular clerk; I want to be on the business management track. Eventually, I want to be in an executive role." "I'm open to public or private sectors, but if it’s private, I’d prefer a large, stable corporation. I’ve heard international firms have the best perks. Some of my classmates are looking at Fortune 500 companies." "Since I’m an entry-level intern, I’m not asking for much. Five or six thousand a month would be fine." My dad glanced at my mom. His voice was neutral as he smiled. "You’ve certainly done your research." Tiffany smiled back, scooting closer to my mom on the sofa. "I have. Honestly, Mr. Miller, your company sounds perfect." "I was wondering if I might have the honor of working there." When she finished, the room went dead silent. My mom took a sip of her tea. I was the one who finally broke the silence with a smile. "Tiffany, our front desk doesn't have very strict education requirements, but you might not meet the height requirement. We usually look for girls who are at least 5'7" for reception." Tiffany stammered, "What... what about an assistant role, Auntie?" "Business management requires a lot of actual experience," my mom said. She and my dad shared a knowing look. "We don't hire interns with zero experience for those roles." Tiffany grew desperate. "Auntie, I'm a fast learner. I can study!" "Learning is one thing, experience is another," my mom said firmly. "College knowledge is just theory. It’s not enough for the real world." "You’re young. You should start from the bottom and work your way up." Tiffany wanted to argue, but the doorbell rang. Someone was here.
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