I took a job bathing a paralyzed billionaire because my children were starving and I had no other choice. I told myself it was only work, only a…

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Then it disappeared.

“Rachel Morgan,” he repeated quietly.

“Yes.”

He turned his chair toward the window.

“You won’t last.”

I stood straighter.

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Maybe three months earlier, I would have walked out.

Maybe a&

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year earlier, I would have told him I didn’t deserve to be spoken to that way.

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But hunger changes the shape of pride.

When your  child is burning with fever in a freezing apartment, dignity becomes something you promise yourself you’ll recover later.

“I only need to last long enough to get paid,” I said.

His chair stopped.

The corner of his mouth moved.

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Not quite a smile.

“Honest.”

“I don’t have the energy to lie.”

That made him look at me again.

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