I cleaned at the same hotel for 18 years – Three days after I was fired, a lawyer called me and told me to sit down

Footsteps crossed the entrance hall.

I had only met Mr. Whitaker's son a few times in eighteen years.

Mr. Whitaker used to sit by the telephone on Sunday evenings, waiting for a call that rarely came.

Julian then looked at me.

"It's Mary, no... Mara."

"Marta, sir," I said.

"That's it." He snapped his fingers. "I'm taking care of my father's affairs. I'll need you in the office in ten minutes."

Waiting for a phone call that rarely came.

He didn't wait for my answer.

He simply walked past me, swinging his briefcase.

I stayed there for a long time.

Mr. Whitaker had promised me one day that I would always be taken care of.

At the time, I thought he was just trying to comfort an old cleaning lady.

I didn't realize that he had already made a decision that would change my life…

He didn't wait for my answer.

Then I straightened my apron and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

I headed towards the office.

When I walked in, Julian Whitaker was standing behind his father's desk.

He tapped a white envelope against his palm.

He didn't offer me a seat.

"Marta, I'll keep it short. We won't need your services anymore."

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