I was just the housekeeper, tending to a dying man, whom his own wife had abandoned. His lawyer called me, and what he said left me speechless.
My name is Clara Jenkins, and I’m 57 years old. I’ve spent my entire adult life cleaning, cooking, and picking up after others.
Life never handed me gold, but I always found a way to keep going. Still, nothing—and I mean nothing—prepared me for what happened with my boss’s family.
David, my most recent employer, was not only a wealthy man; he was a man carved from loss and tragedy. He was a billionaire fashion designer who built Margaret Designs after his wife, Margaret, died in a fire.
She had been pregnant when the fire broke out, with no one to save her in time.
I wasn’t employed by David then, but he told me all about it one evening, long after dinner, as the house fell quiet and the shadows stretched along the walls.
When the call came through on his way home from the studio, he pulled over on the freeway. During that terrible call, he was informed that a fire had taken everything he had loved.
The shock of the news forced a primal scream from his throat, one he never made again.
My boss, voice cracking, told me, “Clara… I…
I couldn’t save her. She and my child were gone before I even got there. Gone.”
By then, I knew him well enough to understand the pain.
After that, he wandered like a ghost through his own mansion.
He spent weeks in bed, barely eating or sleeping. But eventually, somehow, out of grief, he created the fashion empire named after his wife. Every stitch, pattern, and piece whispered her name.
David hired me years later.
Loss was our mutual pain, and perhaps it was what brought us together.
When he hired me, I had just lost my husband to a sudden heart attack.
My heartless mother-in-law tossed me and my son Jacob out with nothing but a suitcase and a sack of hand-me-down clothes. I had nowhere to go.
A woman from church connected me to someone on David’s staff, and soon I was his housekeeper.
He didn’t have to, but as part of the employment contract, he also offered us a small house on the property and a second chance at life.
David not only gave me a job but also a safe place for my son to grow up. I might’ve been his housekeeper, but somehow, I also became family.
Despite most, if not all, billionaires being horrible people, David was actually kind and the opposite.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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