"Steward Hargrove, did I hear you right? The family wants to give me a raise?"
The man standing before me was the butler of the Dickerson household—one of the most elite families in the city—and, in a sense, my direct supervisor.
I'd worked for the Dickersons for three years. Every task inside and outside the house fell on my shoulders, and mine alone.
Now, they wanted to give me a raise.
"Effie Lambert, what are your thoughts on the salary? Is there anything you'd like to discuss?"
I smiled faintly and untied my apron, folding it and setting it gently to the side.
"No thoughts. I'm resigning."
……
Steward froze. His gaze dropped to the apron, then back to me, confusion creasing his brow.
"Effie, is there something about the salary that doesn't satisfy you?"
I shook my head.
"Steward, I simply don't want to do this anymore."
Three years.
From the day I left the countryside and arrived in this sprawling city, right up until now—three years with the Dickersons.
Back then, the family wasn't what it is today. The Dickersons had always been wealthy—money was never the issue. But Les Dickerson was born illegitimate, and he'd married a woman with no background or connections to speak of.
When I first started, even the lowest housemaid felt bold enough to pilfer from the family's belongings.
I couldn't stand it. I stepped up on my own.
I'm a country woman. I don't have much education. But I understand people—how to read them, how to manage them.
The system I put together for bringing the staff in line? They still use it today with every new hire.
"Effie, you have to understand—the New Year is right around the corner. This is the busiest time of the year. If you choose to leave now..."
Steward weighed his words carefully.
"We can only pay you through last month. You'd forfeit the holiday bonus and all year-end benefits."
"Those things don't make much difference to me. With or without them."
"I don't need them."
Steward's expression darkened. He studied me, his voice thick with bewilderment.
"Effie, I know you and Mrs. Dickerson had a bit of a disagreement the other day. But you have to understand—you're employed by the Dickerson family. On certain matters, the employer's wishes naturally take priority."
A pale smile touched my lips. Then I asked him a question.
"Steward, do you know what my daily duties actually look like?"
He blinked, caught off guard. He didn't answer. I went on without waiting.
"I wake up at five every morning. By five thirty, I'm at the market buying groceries. At six, I'm cooking breakfast. At six thirty, I wake Mr. and Mrs. Dickerson."
"At seven, I dress Angela Dickerson and help her wash up. Seven thirty, I take her to school. At eight, I'm mixing formula for Joseph Dickerson and changing his diapers."
Steward's mouth opened, but I didn't give him the chance.
"Steward, that's just my morning. I won't bother listing the afternoon and evening."
"Effie, the capable bear the heaviest load. The Dickersons aren't an ordinary household—there's bound to be a lot of work..."
I drew a long breath.
"But I'm not the only person in this house."
He went quiet.
A bitter laugh escaped me, and I turned to leave.
His voice came from behind.
"Effie, have you really thought this through? Once you let go of this bow, there's no calling the arrow back. If you regret it later..."
"I've thought it through."
I met his gaze squarely, neither meek nor defiant, my voice steady.
Steward sighed.
"There's something you should know. Mrs. Dickerson has been refusing to approve your raise for a long time."
"What?"
This time, I was the one who froze.
He glanced at me.
"A long while back, I brought up the idea of increasing your pay. She turned it down."
I could barely believe what I was hearing.
