But Nadia’s touch was different.
It was brief, warm, almost electric.
Nadia pulled back immediately, terrified by what she had done.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you.”
Damien stared at his wrist, unsettled by the strange feeling. For the first time that night, he looked at her not as an employee who had broken a rule, but as a person standing on the edge of desperation.
Then, in her panic, Nadia moved too quickly.
Her arm hit the desk.
Damien’s phone slipped from his hand and crashed onto the marble floor.
The screen shattered.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Nadia stared at the broken phone as if she had just destroyed her own life.
Damien bent down, picked it up, and examined the cracked screen.
“Do you know how much this costs?”
She shook her head, tears already forming.
“Two million CFA francs.”
Nadia’s face drained of color.
Two million.
She was already trying to find three million five hundred thousand for her mother’s surgery. Now another impossible debt stood before her.
“Sir,” she said, her voice breaking, “I don’t have that kind of money. Even if I worked for years, I couldn’t pay it.”
Damien studied her quietly.
Then he said, “Then you will work for me.”
Nadia looked up, confused.
“I live at the top of this tower,” he continued. “Until now, several people handled my apartment: cleaning, cooking, maintenance. From tomorrow, you will do it.”
“For how long?” she asked.
“If your salary is deducted from the debt, about two years.”
Two years.
It felt like a sentence.
But Nadia thought of her mother’s pale face, the machines beside her bed, the doctor’s warning.
She lowered her head.
“Yes, sir.”
That night, Nadia left Quadio Tower with a paper in her hand containing Damien’s apartment address and a fear in her heart heavier than anything she had carried before.
She went straight to the hospital.
The corridors were busier than usual. Nurses moved quickly. Doctors spoke in low, urgent voices.
Then Keisha, her closest friend, came running toward her.
“Nadia…”
Something in Keisha’s face made Nadia’s blood turn cold.
“What happened?”
Keisha swallowed.
“Your mother had a cardiac arrest.”
Nadia ran.
When she reached the room, Mama Mariam was unconscious, surrounded by machines. Doctor Kassy stood nearby, his face serious.
“We stabilized her,” he said gently, “but her condition is critical. The operation is her only real chance now.”
“Then do it,” Nadia begged.
The doctor looked down.
“We still need the deposit.”
Nadia sat beside her mother and took her hand.
“I’ll find it,” she whispered, though she had no idea how.
The next morning, she arrived at Damien’s apartment at exactly six.
She had not slept. Her eyes were swollen from crying. Her body felt hollow, but she worked without complaint.
Damien was not there when she arrived. Moussa let her in and showed her the rooms.
The apartment was enormous, silent, and perfectly arranged. Every object seemed chosen with care. Every surface reflected control.
“Mr. Quadio doesn’t like things moved,” Moussa warned. “If you touch anything, put it back exactly where it was.”
Nadia nodded.
“I understand.”
She cleaned the kitchen, the living room, the glass walls, the halls. She moved quietly and carefully, even when dizziness made her grip the wall for support.
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