The Russian Billionaire’s Secret(76)
Her father was involved in a robbery and died during a police encounter. After her father’s death, her mother had a relapse into drinking. Things continued going downhill from there, not that they were ever ‘good’ to begin with, and somehow her mother ended up being a junkie.
And one day, the children woke up to find their mother hanging in the same room. It was a memory that would haunt the 9-year-old Cynthia for the rest of her life. It was part of the reason she did not open her eyes when she woke up to snooze the alarm, so she could get hear bearings, realize where she was and not expect anything shocking, before she actually opened her eyes.
Cynthia’s siblings stuck together, braving storm after storm, and moved out slowly as they started families of their own. Cynthia knew she would never have access to quality education, would never be able to get a good job, or even get out of her shabby little hometown. She was a realist and she saw things as they were. But during school, something extraordinary happened. It was Martin Luther King Junior’s speech, ‘I have a dream!’
Cynthia soon forgot about his dream, but the words ‘I have a dream,’ stuck by her. Cynthia had a dream too. A dream to have a better life, a dream to work in a good place, and a dream to see the world and, maybe, that heaven on earth, Switzerland. She did not dwell on any of these dreams too much, far-fetched as some of them were, but she resolved not to leave any stone unturned if she ever had a chance to do something. She would realize her dreams just as Martin Luther King Junior had. She would have a better life. And then one day she found an opening for a maid in a hotel that was a 45-minute walk away from her village.
Cynthia did not have any money so she walked all the way just for the job interview, and she got herself hired. It was a 5-star hotel at a hill station, a very fancy place where all the rich people came to stay during their vacations. Cynthia knew that with hard work and dedication she could climb the ladder, and while her start was sweeping floors and scrubbing toilets, she would be able to prove her worth and get herself into a good position. And it was precisely that, her hard work, dedication, and sincerity, that had led the 15-year-old Cynthia who started as a maid to become the general manager of the hotel 15 years later.
Now all the regular guests knew Cynthia, some had even seen her make progress and become successful, and the new guests liked her as well. She did her job remarkably well but still strove to support her family. But as her family grew up and her job became more demanding, she finally moved out of the little house in her village and took up residence in a tiny apartment near the hotel.
Cynthia loved her job, because every day and every second it reminded her of the progress that she had made. She had realized more of her dream than she’d ever really expected. Every time she asked herself, “Who do I do this for?” she answered, “For me, myself.” But, lately, the answer had started to feel empty. Cynthia wondered if maybe it was time for her to dream a new dream.
As she sat in her chair in the hotel, looking for an answer, a guard arrived and dropped the post on her desk. On the very top was an envelope that stood out, unusual and unexpected. She opened it quickly, read it, then read it again three more times just to be sure. The answer she had been looking for had arrived in the most unexpected way and, as she read the letter again, she smiled.
Chapter 2
The Stranger From Switzerland
5 Years Ago…
It was a cold snowy day. Cynthia had recently moved into her new apartment, a short walk from her hotel. Having bought a new apartment, finances were tight, and Cynthia hadn’t had enough to buy herself a new coat, one that was suitable for her new post. And so, in that very same skirt, blouse, and coat that were her uniform, she prepared to go to the hotel. She wore a scarf around her hair, a small defense in the face of the harsh snowstorm that awaited her.
As she opened her apartment door, she was greeted by a cold whiff of wind that chilled her to the bone. She closed the door quickly. Now her own cold apartment suddenly seemed warm to her, her unmade bed more inviting. Alas, she had to go to work. With a new resolve, she stepped out of the apartment and locked the door.
The path to the hotel was a winding, hilly road. Composed and ready, Cynthia braved the storm and marched toward the hotel in the face of the wind and the snow. The soft, tiny snowflakes sharply caressed her cheeks, so small yet harsh.
All the windows were closed, the streets were empty, the sun barely beginning its ascent from behind the clouds; the town, it seemed, was deserted. Smoke could be seen rising from the chimneys. Half the people were in their cozy beds while the other half were probably sitting by the fire, getting ready to start their day.
It was a cold and a harsh day, alright, but it was also a very beautiful day. Cynthia admired the beauty of her own town as she walked; it seemed as if suddenly the rest of the world had disappeared from view and the spotlight was on her town only. She saw everything in a new light. She passed by a tree, and although she could not see any birds, she could hear the hatchlings. She could hear the wind whooshing past her, the shuddering of the old trees, the sound of the snowflakes as they fell softly to the ground, and footsteps…
She heard footsteps. Distressed, hurried, confused footsteps. She continued walking at the same pace, the footsteps drawing nearer, until a figure emerged beside her.
“Good day, ma’am!” said a gentleman.
He was dressed for the weather, wearing sweaters, a scarf, gloves, a hat, a coat, and an overcoat.