Broken Wings, Hidden Strength.

"You're fired, Leah! I don't want to ever see you here again.” Her boss' words struck her like lightning. She had just lost the only job that fed her and her family. Hot tears threatened to leave her eyes as she stood in front of Mr. Michael, trembling.

“Please, sir. I- this is my only source of income. You know how it is ever since my dad-”

“Enough, Leah! You should have just continued to be the obedient girl that you were.” He cut her off, his voice sending a chill down her spine, as she glanced around to see people staring at her.

All she did was refuse the advances an annoying customer had made toward her.

Her boss had queried her because of the several reports he had gotten from their top customers on how she snapped at them.

He said she was being rude to their big customers and was likely pushing them away to their competitors. He urged her to just play along when they flirted with her.

“You don't have to go to their houses and get in their beds, Leah. Just play along here,” he had told her, but she just couldn't allow some simp try to flirt with her.

She quietly picked up her bag and headed home.

“Your mom was rushed to the hospital. We tried to contact you but couldn't get through to you,” their good neighbor said upon seeing her.

“Thank you,” was all she muttered. Hot tears dropped down her cheeks.

The electricity had been cut off earlier that morning, the landlord had threatened eviction, and the final warning letter from her siblings' school stared back at her.

Why had the universe decided to be cruel to her?

She reminisced on how things used to be when dad was still alive. Their whole life turned upside down after he passed away.

With the weight of the burden she was carrying, she needed to brace up and find a new job as fast as she could.

She could do anything to help her family. Anything.

She had thought she was strong but lately it seemed like she was just holding her family together with duct tape and prayers.

It wasn't long before she received a phone call from an acquaintance about a job opening.

Mr. Jeremy Harper needed a caregiver and the salary was $500.

“The Harpers that we all know? $500?” Before she asked all the questions she wanted, she got interrupted.

“Hold on. It seems like it's a male caregiver he wants. I'm sorry, Leah.”

Leah was disappointed. “Oh…I see.”

She was back to wondering when she would get another job. The weight on her shoulders felt like a mountain crushing her chest. It was worse that she had just lost her job. She could no longer afford her mother's medication and now her mother had been admitted.

Her hands gripped her head. She needed to vent. She called her best friend, Noah.

Noah sat cross-legged on the floor, sipping from a half-empty soda can. His boyish smile, the one Leah usually found comforting, was missing. He hated seeing her like this—defeated, hopeless. “I wish I could help more,” he said quietly, “but you know things aren’t great for me either right now.”

Leah sighed. “It’s not your responsibility. It’s mine. Mom, my siblings—none of this is your burden.” She grabbed her phone off the coffee table and opened the job listings app again. Scrolling through countless postings she wasn’t qualified for, one caught her eye:

“Male Caregiver Needed. Live-In Position. $500 Monthly.”

It was the same one her former colleague had just informed her about.

Her heart skipped a beat at the figure. That kind of money could go a long way. Bills, rent, school fees, and even her mother’s medication—all covered. But then reality set in: Male caregiver. She wasn’t exactly what they were looking for.

“Why do guys get all the good-paying jobs?” she muttered bitterly, tossing the phone onto the couch.

“What’s it about?” Noah asked.

She hesitated. “A live-in job. Caregiver. Pays well but… it’s for men only.”

Noah laughed. “They probably think men can lift and carry stuff better.”

Leah shot him a glare, a spark igniting in her chest. “I can lift just as well as any man. And I’ve got a brain too. This is ridiculous!”

“Well, life’s not fair, Leah,” Noah said with a shrug.

Something clicked in her mind—a crazy, outlandish idea. She sat up, her eyes blazing with sudden determination. “What if I become a man?”

Noah stared at her like she’d sprouted another head. “What?”

Leah grabbed his soda can, taking a dramatic swig before lowering her voice. “What if I disguise myself as a man and apply for the job?”

Noah burst out laughing, doubling over as he clutched his stomach. “You? Pretending to be a guy? Leah, you’d be caught in five minutes.”

She smirked. “You forget, I’ve watched way too many soap operas. I know how to act. All I need is a haircut, some loose clothes, and a slightly deeper voice. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re delusional,” Noah said, still chuckling.

“I'm not, Noah. You will help me pull this off,” she said, brushing off his doubts.

Deep down, Noah admired her courage. He’d always been drawn to Leah’s fire, but she’d made it clear they were just friends. He didn’t want to jeopardize that.

The next day, Leah chopped off her long black hair, styled it into a short, shaggy cut, and borrowed Noah’s oversized hoodie and sneakers. With her face free of makeup and her voice rehearsed into a convincing baritone, she was ready. She applied for the job, and to her shock, she was invited for an interview.

Two days later, Leah—or rather, “Leo”—arrived at a sprawling mansion. The estate was intimidating, with tall iron gates and perfectly manicured lawns. A woman in her late 40s opened the door, and ushered her in.

The woman held a document in her hands, probably Leah's application. With a very broad smile, she said, “Welcome, Mr. Leo. I am Maggie. Mr. Harper asked me to interview you.”

Leah felt a twinge of fear, worried that her lie might be uncovered. She covered up with a warm smile.

For the next few minutes, Maggie grilled Leah on caregiving tasks. Leah, having taken care of her mom for years, answered every question with confidence, ensuring she deepened her voice while she spoke. By the end, Maggie nodded.

Maggie stepped away briefly into another room. Moments later, she returned and politely said , “please, follow me.”

Leah was led into a study where Jeremy sat.

His wheelchair was positioned behind a large oak desk. He didn’t even look up when she walked in. He was just looking out the window.

Jeremy's features were sharp and commanding, as that of any billionaire, but his expression seemed cold, almost hostile.

Everyone knew the Harper family but no one ever described Jeremy Harper perfectly.

His presence alone was intimidating. Even from behind, she could see the tension in his posture.