Read My Mind, Mr. Sterling

To pay off my dad's massive debts, I became the personal maid to the city's most dangerous billionaire heir.

Word on the street was that none of his maids ever lasted more than three months.

Serve his soup too hot? Dead.

Wear a perfume he hates? Dead.

Speak a little too loudly? Dead.

To stay alive, I brought a mini battery fan with me the very first day I stepped foot into his mansion.

Every single dish that passed through my hands was blown completely cold.

His steak was practically frozen solid.

*Look, if the steak gets stiff, at least my corpse won't have to!*