Iris sat cross-legged on our couch, her fuzzy cat socks pulled up to her knees, a steaming cup of instant ramen balanced precariously on her laptop. The screen cast blue light across her face as some YouTuber I didn't recognize screamed at a virtual monster.
"He's literally standing right there," Iris said through a mouthful of noodles. "Behind the door. How does he not see it?"
"Because content creators are contractually obligated to be blind during horror games. It's in their YouTube partner agreement."
"That's not a real thing."
"How would you know? You're fourteen. You haven't read the fine print on anything."
She threw a wadded-up napkin at my head. I caught it without looking, a skill developed through years of sibling warfare.
This was our Saturday night ritual. Fifty-cent ramen from the corner store, whatever free content the algorithm decided to serve us, and the kind of comfortable silence that only happens between people who've run out of things to prove to each other.
The couch sagged in the middle from years of use, the cushions worn thin in the spots where we always sat. The TV was a hand-me-down from Mrs. Delgado downstairs, with a line of dead pixels running across the bottom of the screen like a horizon.
None of it mattered.
The YouTuber on screen walked into an obvious trap. Iris groaned. I slurped my noodles.
My phone vibrated against the coffee table.
I ignored it.
The YouTuber died. The screen went red. Iris laughed so hard she nearly choked on a noodle.
My phone vibrated again.
"You gonna get that?" Iris asked, not taking her eyes off the screen.
"No."
"Could be important."
"Nothing's important on a Saturday night except bad decisions and regret."
"Deep. You should put that on a poster."
The phone vibrated a third time. Three messages in a row usually meant either an emergency or a very persistent telemarketer. I picked it up with the enthusiasm of a man reaching for his own execution warrant.
Unknown number.
Mr. Angelo, this is Miranda, assistant to Mrs. Valentine. Please check the email associated with your application. A revised offer of employment has been sent for your review.
A revised offer.
"What is it?" Iris asked, finally looking away from the screen.
I reached for my laptop, an ancient ThinkPad that had survived four years of abuse and ran with the enthusiasm of a geriatric turtle. The fan whirred to life as I balanced it on my knees, the heat immediately seeping through my sweatpants.
My email loaded.
There it was. An email from [email protected] with a DocuSign attachment. The subject line read: Employment Agreement - Personal Assistant Position - REVISED TERMS.
I clicked.
The document opened.
And I started reading.
CONFIDENTIAL
September 14, 2023
To: Mr. Isaiah Angelo
Re: Offer of Employment – Personal Assistant (Probationary)
Dear Mr. Angelo,
Following your interview and security clearance on September 12, 2023, the Valentine Family is pleased to extend an offer of employment for the position of Personal Assistant to the Valentine Household.
My eyes scanned through the formal language, the legal disclaimers, the careful phrasing designed to protect the family from liability. Standard contract boilerplate. Nothing unexpected.
Then I reached the compensation section.
Base Salary: $10,000.00 (Ten Thousand US Dollars) per month, payable bi-weekly.
Current monthly income from the Velvet Room: approximately three thousand, depending on tips. Current monthly expenses: rent (nine hundred), utilities (one-fifty), food (three hundred for both of us), train tickets (roughly a thousand), phone bills (eighty), school supplies and incidentals (two hundred). That left maybe four hundred for the emergency fund, assuming nothing went wrong.
Something always went wrong.
Ten thousand a month meant triple my current income. It meant an actual savings account. An actual emergency fund. Money set aside for Iris's future, for college applications, for the scholarship fees that Hartwell didn't cover.
It meant security.
A word I'd stopped believing in years ago.
I kept reading.
Transportation Asset:
To facilitate punctuality given your primary residence in Philadelphia, the Estate will provide a vehicle for your use:
Vehicle: 2023 Lexus ES (Black).
Terms of Use: This vehicle is a revocable license, not a gift. It is to be used strictly for commuting to/from the Valentine Estate and for work-related errands. All maintenance, insurance, and fuel costs will be covered by the Estate.
A car.
They were offering me a car.
Not just any car. A Lexus. The kind of vehicle I'd seen parked outside the Velvet Room, driven by people who tipped in hundreds and never looked at the bill. The kind of car that cost more than our apartment's total worth, furnishings included.
No more train tickets.
No more 4:30 AM wake-ups to catch the Amtrak.
No more arriving at school exhausted because I spent five hours in transit.
I could drive to the manor in what, two hours? Maybe less with good traffic? And I'd be home by ten instead of two in the morning on work nights.
Stop, I told myself. Read the catch. There's always a catch.
I scrolled down.
Residency Requirement:
You are required to reside on the premises for two (2) full weekends per month (Friday 6:00 PM through Sunday 6:00 PM). Specific weekends will be determined by the Valentine Family with a minimum of seven (7) days' notice. However, the Estate reserves the right to adjust this schedule based on urgent household needs.
Two full weekends per month.
Not one, like I'd proposed.
Two.
Eight days out of every month where I wouldn't be here. Where Iris would be alone in this apartment, in this neighborhood, with only Mrs. Delgado and the Kowalskis to check on her.
I kept reading.
Academic Performance Contingency:
A primary KPI (Key Performance Indicator) of this role is the academic support of Ms. Cassidy Valentine. You are expected to provide tutoring and study management.
Metric: You must demonstrate a measurable improvement in Ms. Cassidy Valentine's academic standing. Specifically, her cumulative GPA must increase by a minimum of 0.5 points by the end of the current semester.
Consequence: Failure to meet this metric will result in an immediate review of your contract and potential termination for cause.
There it was.
The trap.
The car wasn't a gift. It was a leash. Something they could yank back the moment I stopped being useful.
The salary wasn't generosity. It was an investment with expected returns.
And the job wasn't being an assistant. It was being a miracle worker for a girl who had burned through seven tutors, who had threatened to ruin my life within five minutes of meeting me, who had spent the entire tour of the mansion either attempting to seduce me or screaming at me.
Cassidy Valentine's GPA: 2.4
Required improvement: 0.5 points
Target GPA: 2.9
Deadline: End of semester
Probability of success: Unknown, but historically seven out of seven previous attempts had failed.