Chapter 3 Cleaner

Claudia's POV: I lowered my gaze, hiding all the emotions welling up inside me. These were my biological parents. In their eyes, I was worthless—someone who had thrown her life away, amounting to nothing. "I work for a wealthy family. The money was borrowed from my boss, and I've promised to repay it after I graduate. As for the clothes, they were hand-me-downs from my boss. He didn't want them anymore." I didn't want to tell my parents the truth. While Liam was indeed rich, he was just an ordinary businessman running a few small ventures. On the other hand, Steven was the head of a mafia family. Though currently facing financial troubles, he still had the power to bring ruin to anyone who crossed him. Under Steven and Hannah's stunned and bewildered gazes, I turned and left expressionlessly. Even as the true eldest daughter of the Nielson family, my room was nothing more than a dark attic—a cramped storage room hastily converted into a living space. Jenny, meanwhile, lived in the sunniest, largest room on the second floor. While Jenny was learning piano, tea ceremonies, flower arranging, and art, I was flipping burgers at a fried chicken joint or waiting tables at a bar. Jenny effortlessly earned the love and affection of our parents, while I received nothing but scorn and ridicule. I took a deep breath. Suddenly, Liam came to mind. Even though I had only spent a single day with him, I had felt kindness and warmth for the first time in what felt like forever. Thanks to the 300,000, Steven stopped talking about forcing me into marriage. At dinner that night, Steven brought up the Townsends—the most powerful mafia family in Nythoria. "Our business is getting tougher by the day. If we could establish some kind of partnership with the Townsends, even their smallest venture in Eastmoore could match our annual income!" Something clicked in my mind. "The Townsends? Liam shared the same last name. Could there be a connection?" No, that didn't make sense. Mr. Townsend was rumored to be a generous and honorable gentleman. There was no way he'd be involved with the mafia. Still, I couldn't help but eavesdrop more attentively. Jenny glanced at me, then smirked before saying, "Dad, Eric has been pursuing me lately. The Yorks and the Townsends have always had a good working relationship. Maybe I could get Eric to pull some strings for us." "Jenny, you're so thoughtful!" Steven beamed at her with a warm smile—a look I had never seen directed at me. Suddenly, my appetite vanished. Silently, I set my plate down and retreated to my room. I didn't want to quit school and get married. I wanted to graduate, earn my diploma, and secure a job that could support me independently. Before the break, one of my professors gave me an internship recommendation letter for Sandy Group. It was an incredible opportunity—a chance to intern at the largest company in the region and lay a solid foundation for my future. Today was the interview. If it went well, I'd have the chance to pave a path toward the life I envisioned for myself. I arrived at the address on the letter and stood before Sandy Group's towering office building. Just as I was about to step inside, a surprised voice called out from behind me. "Claudia? What are you doing here?" As I turned, I saw Jenny stepping out of a red sports car, with Eric York standing beside her. Eric was the youngest son of the York family. The moment he noticed me, his eyes lit up. "Jenny, who's this beauty?" he asked, a sly grin spreading across his face. Grinding her teeth, Jenny replied, "This is my sister, Claudia." Eric adjusted his hair, putting on what he must have thought was a suave expression. "Ms. Claudia, nice to meet you. I'm Eric York. Surely you've heard of the York family? We dominate the construction materials business across Eastmoore." I had no intention of humoring him. His leering gaze made my skin crawl. "I've got things to do. I'll be on my way," I said curtly. Jenny stepped in front of me, blocking my path. "Claudia, what are you doing here? Don't tell me you're here to work?" "That's right, I'm here to work," I replied, not bothering to elaborate. "Are you here as a cleaner?" she pressed, her voice dripping with mockery. I frowned. "That's none of your business." Jenny covered her mouth, feigning concern. "Claudia, if you need money, just say so. Why humiliate yourself by cleaning?" She let out a laugh, loud and scornful. In just a few words, she declared me a cleaner, as if it were a foregone conclusion. "A cleaner?" Eric recoiled in disgust, taking a step back. "Gross! She probably reeks of trash. Ugh, the smell!" Jenny picked up her empty drink and tossed it onto the ground at my feet. "Here, take care of that. Sweep it up nice and clean!" Her smug expression made it clear she wanted me to bow down, lower myself, and pick up the trash she had intentionally dropped. I wasn't about to let her win. If we were done pretending to be sisters, there was no need for me to save face for her either. Fixing my gaze on her, I spoke directly in front of Eric. "Even if I came here to clean, it's still better than being a courtesan. At least I earn my money through honest work. I'm not ashamed!" I glanced at the designer bag hanging off her arm and added, "Oh, and don't worry, I won't mention to Mr. Eric that this bag of yours was a gift from Mr. Smith." With that, I brushed past them and walked into Sandy Tower. Behind me, I could still hear their argument escalating. "What bag? Jenny, is what she said true?" Eric demanded, his tone laced with suspicion. "Of course not!" Jenny replied, her voice tinged with indignation. "This was a reward from my mom for getting first place in my finals!" "My bad, Jenny. I should've trusted you. Tell you what, after I close this business deal, let's go catch a movie. There's a new couple's theater that just opened, and the experience is supposed to be amazing." Jenny's sickly sweet laughter followed. I nearly gagged. I stepped into Sandy Tower but was immediately stopped by a security guard. "Out! This isn't a place for high schoolers to wander around." I glanced at my reflection in the glass—a ponytail, a simple backpack—and I did look like a teenager still in school. "I'm here for an interview," I said calmly. "Do you have an appointment?" I pulled out my recommendation letter, and only then did he let me through. An administrative assistant escorted me to a waiting room, but on the way, I caught sight of someone familiar.