I needed that money. My daughter’s insulin wasn’t going to pay for itself.
The Sterling mansion felt like a museum. Marble everywhere. Gold trim. Crystal chandeliers that probably cost more than my annual salary. I pushed my cart through the service entrance, head down, ready to disappear into the background.
“You’re the new girl?” A woman in a designer suit blocked my path. Victoria Sterling. Richard Sterling’s sister. I’d seen her photo in magazines. “Just so we’re clear—you don’t speak to guests. You don’t make eye contact. You’re furniture.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. My brother’s making some ridiculous announcement tonight about his mute daughter. Stay out of the way.”
She clicked away on heels that cost more than my car payment.
I found my station near the ballroom entrance. The party was already in full swing. Politicians. Tech CEOs. Old money and new money pretending to like each other.
Then I saw her.
A little girl sat alone on a bench, wearing a fancy dress that looked like it was strangling her. She couldn’t have been more than eight. Her hands were folded perfectly in her lap, but her eyes… her eyes were screaming.
I recognized that look. I’d seen it in the mirror for years after my parents died.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” Richard Sterling’s voice cut through the noise. Tall. Handsome. Exhausted. “I won’t waste your time with pleasantries. Three years ago, my wife died in a car accident. My daughter Amelia hasn’t spoken a single word since.”
Whispers rippled through the crowd. I saw people exchanging glances—some sympathetic, most calculating.
“I’ve spent fifteen million dollars on specialists. The best doctors in the world.” His voice cracked. “None of them could reach her. So tonight, I’m making an offer. Anyone who can help my daughter speak again will receive ten million dollars. Cash. No questions asked.”
The room exploded into chatter.
“Richard, darling,” a woman in a red dress called out. “You can’t seriously expect—”
“I’m dead serious, Margaret.” He gripped the podium. “Ten million. To anyone who succeeds.”
A man in an expensive suit laughed. “Some things are just broken, Sterling. You can’t buy miracles.”
That word made my stomach turn. Broken.
“Then we’ll try first,” announced a woman stepping forward. Dr. Helena Frost, according to her introduction. Child psychologist to celebrities. She approached Amelia with a warm smile.