The mansion is clean.

  Very clean.

  All floors are scrubbed and shined. Not a single speck of dust lies on the furniture. The polished railing from the curved stairs leading down below the enormous crystal chandelier. The front lawn has been mowed, and fresh plants and flowers align the side of the large gates and the driveway leading up to the hill. The pool’s bright blue water reflects from the yellow sunlight above, its waves glistening.

  Sarah’s shoe remains on the fourth step.

  Ellison tosses and turns in bed. He is half asleep, his room partially clean. He has spent three days in here, playing video games all night. His PlayStation is still on, the bright double monitors of his PC illuminating the dark room. Three food trays are left outside his door, attracting ants. His clothes are strewn across the mostly clean carpet.

  Don’t worry about it, his lawyer had told him via their Zoom call. You leave this to me. They’ll try to drag you to court over this, but what evidence do they have? No one can say that you have done anything. She fell.

  The maid lost her balance and fell.

  Simple.

  The next day, Ellison sends out pink slips to all of the hired help. His father has always had poor taste, anyways. He is wearing a bathrobe, a beanie, and sweats as they take their final paychecks home. A smirk crosses his face as they leave. He won’t have them staring at him in his own home. For Gary and Pierre, he withdraws twenty-five percent from their pay. Both men say nothing. Ellison says nothing to them. Within the next forty-eight hours, he fills in their former positions with complete strangers. People who he’s never seen before.

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  He hopes they’ve never seen him.

  * * * * * * * *

  Hey, this is Don speaking. Sorry I missed your call. Just leave me a message, and I will respond as soon as I can. Have a great day.

  Ellison drums his fingertips against the granite countertop in the kitchen. He eyes the mostly empty glass of wine sitting in front of him. It is what, two in the morning? He hasn’t answered any of his friends’ text messages. After refilling his glass, he takes another sip and holds his phone up to his right ear.

  ”It’s….it’s uh, it’s kinda nice to hear your voice,” he slurs. The young man grimaces in pain as he turns off the lights. Much better. In the dark, moonlight streams through the window. He coughs and sits down at the island table, cradling the wine bottle. “I’m doing alright. Can’t say the same about yourself, can you? Nah. You on the other side. You always been on the other side.”

  The air conditioning turns off.

  Ellison laughs and leans into his seat. “You hear me, you bastard? You stuck there now. There is no coming back. I’m gonna…..I’m gonna do everything I can so I don’t have to ever see your name again.” He shakily sets down his glass. “You had it coming. Working, working, working, leaving me here—all them nannies and babysitters— and for what?”

  There is a thump on the stairwell.

  ”I don’t have no memories with you, so I can’t erase those. But I have your name.” Ellison leans back into the chair. “I’ll make sure that nobody will ever know who you were. Just like you did for me. Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of your company. The thing that you dedicated your entire life to. And you can’t even enjoy the fruits of your labor. Imagine working your whole life for nothing. Nothing. That is what you are. Nothing.”

  The only sound in the house is the slight humming of the refrigerator.

  “You’re nothing,” Ellison says.