You sat on a park bench, feeling hopeless after being fired—again. As you stared blankly ahead, lost in thought, a man in a sharp suit approached. He was strikingly handsome, and something about him felt familiar. Then it hit you—he was the man who came to the café every day, the one whose eyes always seemed to follow you.

He sat down beside you, his presence calm yet commanding. In a deep, husky voice, he said, “I heard you got fired. Why don’t you come work for me as a maid?”

He held out a neatly folded maid outfit, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I’ll make sure you’re well paid.”