Homeless Girl Hired by Millionaire Uncovers Shocking Secret About His “Deceased” Daughter

The bus arrived right on schedule. Veronica took a seat by the window and clutched her bag. The city passed by outside—vibrant, noisy, indifferent to her troubles.

Forty minutes later, she got off at the end of the line and, checking the address, headed toward Maple Street. This neighborhood was starkly different from where she’d spent the last few days. Well-manicured avenues, luxurious mansions hidden behind high fences, expensive cars at the gates.

Here lived people for whom money was no issue. Sinclair’s mansion was exactly as she had imagined. A three-story building in modern style, surrounded by a well-kept garden.

A security guard in a crisp uniform stood at the gates. «I’m here to see Mr. Ethan Sinclair,» Veronica said, trying to sound confident. «My name is Veronica Benson.

I have an appointment at three o’clock.» The guard checked his tablet and nodded. «You’re expected.

Please proceed.» A path paved with light stone led to the main entrance. Veronica walked slowly, trying to calm her nerves.

This was her last chance, and she feared losing it. The door opened before she could knock. A man in a formal suit stood on the threshold.

«Good afternoon. Mr. Sinclair is expecting you in his study. Allow me to escort you.»

Veronica nodded and followed him through the spacious hall, adorned with paintings and sculptures. The luxury of this house underscored the gulf between her current position and the world of her father’s school friend. The assistant stopped before a massive oak door, knocked briefly, and, upon receiving permission, opened it for Veronica.

«Thank you, Victor, you may go,» came a deep male voice from inside the room. Veronica took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold. Ethan Sinclair’s study embodied restrained elegance and power.

A spacious room with high ceilings, walls paneled in dark wood, a massive desk by a panoramic window overlooking the manicured garden. Bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes added an intellectual charm. The owner of the study rose from behind the desk as Veronica entered.

Ethan Sinclair, a 51-year-old man, looked imposing—tall, broad-shouldered, with piercing gray eyes and a neatly trimmed beard flecked with silver. His sharp dark-blue suit fit him impeccably. «Miss Veronica Benson,» he said, approaching her.

«Pleased to meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances.» His handshake was firm and confident. Veronica felt the tension gripping her ease slightly.

«Thank you for agreeing to meet me, Mr. Sinclair,» she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. «I brought you a letter from my father.» She pulled a slightly crumpled envelope from her bag and handed it to Sinclair.

He accepted the letter, his gaze lingering on her hands—neat, with long fingers, the hands of a healthcare worker accustomed to precise movements. «Please, have a seat,» he gestured to the chair in front of the desk. «Would you like tea or coffee?» «No, thank you,» Veronica declined, sinking into the comfortable chair.

Sinclair returned to his desk, opened the envelope, and immersed himself in reading. His face remained impassive, but Veronica noticed his lips twitch momentarily, and a shadow of emotion flickered in his eyes, one she couldn’t identify. Finishing, he carefully folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope.

«Nicholas was always proud,» he said after a pause. «Even in school, he never asked for help; he achieved everything on his own. I learned about his illness too late, when nothing could be changed.»

«He didn’t want to burden anyone,» Veronica replied softly. «That was his character.» «I know,» Sinclair nodded.

«We weren’t close friends in recent years, but I always respected him.» He looked at Veronica intently. «Tell me about yourself.

I only know about your situation from what your father wrote.» Veronica took a deep breath and began her story. About her work at the clinic, about the patient who died due to the leadership’s negligence, about how she was made the scapegoat.

About the legal battles that drained her financially and emotionally. About her father’s illness, selling the apartment, desperate attempts to save him, and finally, his death, leaving her without support or a roof over her head. She spoke restrainedly, avoiding complaints and self-justifications, just stating the facts.

Sinclair listened attentively, not interrupting, only occasionally asking clarifying questions. «And where are you living now?» he asked when she finished. Veronica lowered her eyes.

«The last three days, I’ve been sleeping at the train station. Before that, I managed to stay with acquaintances, but you can’t abuse hospitality forever.» Sinclair frowned.

«And relatives?» «Only a cousin in Seattle, but we haven’t spoken in years.» She never got along with my father. Silence hung in the study.

Sinclair thoughtfully tapped his fingers on the desk, as if making a decision. «You worked as a nurse, right?» he finally asked. «Do you have experience caring for seriously ill patients?» «Yes,» Veronica nodded.

«I worked four years in the intensive care unit before moving to the private clinic.» «Then I have a proposal for you.» Sinclair leaned forward.

«My father, Constantine Sinclair, suffered a stroke six months ago. Physically, he’s almost recovered, but he needs constant supervision and care. The caregiver who’s been with him the last few months has to leave for family reasons.

I need someone I can trust.» Veronica felt her heart beat faster. «Really? You’re offering me a job?» she asked cautiously.

«Exactly,» Sinclair nodded. «Work and living here in the house. You’ll have your own room, meals, and decent pay.

My father is a difficult man with a strong character, but if you get along with him, everything will be fine.» Veronica couldn’t believe her luck. Just this morning, she didn’t know where she’d sleep, and now she was being offered a job, housing, and a chance to start over.

«I… I don’t know how to thank you,» she said in a trembling voice. «Thank your father,» Sinclair replied seriously. «Nicholas was an honest man, and I believe his daughter is the same.»

He pressed a button on the desk. «And now, let’s introduce you to your charge.» The assistant entered a minute later.

«Victor, please escort Miss Veronica Benson to Constantine Sinclair,» said Sinclair. «And tell Anna Paulson we have a new employee. Have her prepare the blue guest room.»

«Very well,» Victor nodded and turned to Veronica. «This way, please.» Veronica stood, feeling a slight dizziness from the sudden change in her fate.

«Thank you, Mr. Sinclair,» she said. «I won’t let you down.» «I hope not,» Sinclair replied.

«We’ll talk later to discuss the details of your work.» Following the assistant up the wide staircase to the second floor, Veronica couldn’t shake the feeling of unreality. Could her misfortunes really be over? Or was this just a brief respite before new trials? She didn’t know the answer, but for the first time in a long while, she felt hope.

Constantine Sinclair’s room was in the east wing of the mansion. Spacious, flooded with sunlight, with access to a small terrace. It resembled a luxury five-star hotel suite more than a patient’s room.

Medical equipment was cleverly disguised as interior elements, and the adjustable bed looked like a designer piece of furniture. Victor knocked softly on the door and, receiving permission, opened it for Veronica. «Mr. Constantine Sinclair, your visitor is here,» he announced.

Veronica Benson. The elderly man, sitting in an armchair by the window with a book in hand, looked up. Despite his 75 years and the recent stroke, Constantine Sinclair maintained a regal posture and sharp gaze.

His gray hair was neatly combed back, fine features betrayed breeding and character. He was dressed in an expensive loungewear set, with comfortable leather slippers on his feet. «So, you’re my new jailer?» he said with light irony in his voice.

The right side of his face was slightly less mobile, revealing the stroke’s aftermath. «Come closer, let me get a look at you.» Veronica approached the armchair, maintaining a professional smile.

From years in medicine, she’d learned to connect with all kinds of patients. «Good afternoon, Mr. Constantine Sinclair. Pleased to meet you.»

The old man scanned her appraisingly, lingering on her face. «Hmm, at least you’re pretty,» he noted without a hint of embarrassment. «The previous one looked like a dried herring.

Competent, though, I won’t argue.» «Father!» came Ethan Sinclair’s voice, entering the room behind them. «Behave yourself.»

«Veronica Benson is the daughter of my school friend and a professional nurse. I’m just stating a fact,» the elder Sinclair shrugged. At my age, you can say what you think.

Veronica Benson will live with us and care for you. I hope you’ll get along.» «We’ll see,» the old man snorted.

If she’s as nagging as Dr. Klein, she won’t last long. «I’ll try not to nag,» Veronica replied calmly. «But I’ll monitor your health closely.»

Constantine Sinclair suddenly smiled. «You’ve got spirit. That’s good.

I can’t stand people who just nod along.» Ethan Sinclair nodded in relief. «Well, it seems you’ve found common ground.

Veronica, make yourself at home. Anna Paulson, our housekeeper, will show you your room when you’re done meeting my father. This evening, we’ll discuss your duties in more detail.»

He turned to leave, but then an elderly, plump woman around sixty entered with a tray. «Tea,» she said. «Excellent, thank you, Anna Paulson,» nodded Ethan.

«I’ll join you for a few minutes.» They settled at a small table by the window. The woman poured tea into delicate porcelain cups and left, leaving the three of them.

«Tell me about yourself, Veronica,» suggested the elder Sinclair, sipping his tea. Ethan mentioned you’re the daughter of his school friend. «What did your father do?» «Nicholas Alexander Benson,» Veronica replied.

«He taught mathematics at the university.» «Benson.» Constantine repeated thoughtfully.

«Yes, I remember.» «Tall brunette like that?» «He visited us a few times when the boys were still in school.» «Yes, that’s him,» Veronica confirmed with slight sadness.

«He passed away two months ago.» «I’m sorry for your loss,» the old man said politely, but without much sympathy. «And your mother?» «She died when I was 12.

My father raised me.» «Tough,» Constantine noted briefly. «So, you’re a nurse?» «Was a nurse,» Veronica clarified.

«My last job was at a private clinic, MedCare.» «I know that one,» the old man nodded. «Why did you leave?» Veronica glanced quickly at Ethan Sinclair.

He gave a barely perceptible nod, indicating she could speak openly. «I was fired after an incident with a patient,» she answered honestly. «The clinic’s leadership made a serious mistake, but they blamed me.»

Constantine looked at her attentively. «And you didn’t fight for your reputation?» «I did,» Veronica replied firmly. «But I had no money for good lawyers or connections.

The clinic had both.» The old man nodded satisfied. Honest answer…