My hands tremble as I scrub the executive bathroom tiles. Not from fear—from rage. The little boy who walked in here moments ago, flanked by two nannies in crisp uniforms, had my nose. My jawline. My smile. And they called him Leo Chen, ward of the Green family.

I almost dropped the disinfectant. One night. That’s all it was. One mistake in a lab coat, one moment of weakness with Julian Green after the conference. I didn’t even know he was married—engaged, they said, to some European heiress.

Now, here I am, Mina Lin, Floor Attendant Level 3, wiping toothpaste splatters while my son sips imported juice in the penthouse suite above. The badge on my chest feels like a lie. But so does this whole building.

Then the door creaks open again. A soft voice: ‘You look sad, Aunt Mina.’

Leo stands there, barefoot, holding a stuffed wolf. My heart shatters.

Before I can respond, footsteps echo down the hall. High heels. Cold. Precise. Eleanor Green’s voice cuts through the air: ‘There you are, sweetheart. And… you.’ Her eyes lock onto mine. ‘You’re the new cleaner. I need you in the east wing. Immediately. We have a situation.’

She’s testing me. Waiting for a crack.

But what if this ‘situation’ is my way in?