Once A Servant, Now A Legend

The soft squeak of the mop echoed faintly through the marble hall, accompanied by the rhythmic swoosh of water against stone.

Jeff Benson worked with practiced calm, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing tanned forearms that had once signed contracts and managed teams but now labored quietly in the service of another man’s household. 

His face was expressionless, the look of a man who had long accepted his place, but not forgotten who he truly was.

To the outside world, he was nothing more than the live-in son-in-law of the Smith family. 

To his wife’s relatives, he was a stain on their prestige, a man who had married above his station and now paid the price through endless chores.

Still, he cleaned. The order and simplicity of the task helped quiet his mind.

The phone in his pocket buzzed sharply, breaking the stillness. He frowned, pulled it out, and saw the caller ID, a private number, one only his people used.

He wiped his hand on a towel before answering. “Speak.”

“Boss,” came the excited voice on the other end. “It’s official! Madam’s company just received final approval. The listing went through this morning. The Nasdaq ceremony is tomorrow during prime time, but the press conference, it’s already on air right now. She’s trending on all major platforms!”

Jeff paused mid-step, his gaze drifting to the marble floor, though his mind was far away. His wife… Genevieve. 

For a moment, he could picture her clearly: composed, confident, that faint curve of her lips when she achieved something big.

After a quiet heartbeat, he exhaled slowly. “Good work,” he said in a low voice. “You handled things well.”

“Thank you, sir! Should we prepare the team for tomorrow’s event?”

“Yes. Make sure everyone involved in the listing gets their due reward. No one should be overlooked.”

“Understood.”

Jeff ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. His eyes softened, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. 

He had promised Genevieve that he’d handle the logistics behind her company’s success quietly, never taking public credit. 

And so he did. Every negotiation, every hidden deal, done behind the scenes, in her name, not his. Now she stood on the world stage, while he stood with a mop in hand.

A small, bittersweet laugh escaped him. “That’s good,” he murmured. “That’s… really good.”

He glanced toward the grand staircase that led to the living room below. The faint murmur of voices drifted up, soft laughter, clinking porcelain, and the gentle hum of high society conversation.

His mother-in-law, Madam Hillary Smith, was entertaining guests again. Jeff hesitated for a moment, debating whether to tell her the news. 

She might appreciate hearing it from him, though she rarely appreciated anything that came out of his mouth. Still, this was big. Even she would be proud today.

He set the mop aside, washed his hands, and gathered a silver tray of fresh tea and pastries the cook had just finished preparing. Balancing it with care, he made his way downstairs.

The living room was a scene from a magazine, silk drapes, gleaming antiques, and the delicate scent of imported tea leaves. 

A circle of elegantly dressed women sat around a low marble table, their conversation laced with polite laughter and the quiet competition of mothers comparing their children’s triumphs.

“My son just bought a townhouse near Central Park,” one woman was saying, her voice warm with satisfaction. “All paid for in cash. His company’s stock options matured early.”

Another smiled thinly. “How wonderful. My daughter just got promoted, regional director now. She’s only twenty-eight.”

The women turned expectantly toward Madam Hillary. Her carefully painted smile never faltered, but a hint of strain flickered in her eyes.

“Oh, Genevieve is doing well,” she replied smoothly. “She’s very focused these days. The company is stable.”

“Ah, yes, your daughter is impressive,” one of them said lightly. “But what about your son-in-law? I heard he’s… rather good at helping around the house.”

A few chuckles followed, soft but unmistakably mocking. Madam Hillary’s hand stiffened on her teacup. The polite smile froze on her lips. Before she could answer, the door opened.

Jeff Benson stepped inside, dressed in simple black clothes, his hair slightly damp from exertion. 

In his hands was the tray, steaming cups balanced neatly. He walked with quiet composure, unaware, or perhaps deliberately ignoring, the judgmental glances that met him.

“Mother,” he greeted, bowing his head slightly. “I brought more tea and snacks.”

“Oh, how considerate,” one of the women said, smirking behind her fan. “Such a helpful young man.”

Another added teasingly, “If only all husbands were this obedient, hmm?”

Laughter fluttered through the room like the rustle of silk. Madam Hillary’s face darkened. “That’s enough,” she said sharply, her voice tight. 

Then she turned to Jeff, her tone colder. “Can’t you see we’re entertaining guests? Must you barge in at such a time? This is not your place.”

Jeff lowered his gaze respectfully. “I apologize, Mother. I didn’t mean to intrude, but I have some important news.”

Her frown deepened. “You always have an excuse, don’t you? You think carrying a tray makes you part of this circle? Leave the tea and go back to your chores.”

One of the guests giggled. “Oh, let him speak, Hillary. Perhaps he’s got something exciting to tell us, maybe he’s been promoted to head butler?”

More laughter. Jeff’s jaw tightened, but his tone remained calm. “Actually,” he said softly, “it’s about Genevieve.”

That silenced the room. Madam Hillary blinked, her irritation momentarily replaced by curiosity. “Genevieve?”

“Yes.” Jeff set the tray down carefully, then straightened his back. “Her company’s been approved for listing. The final paperwork went through this morning. Tomorrow she’ll ring the Nasdaq bell.”

A collective gasp swept the room. “Nasdaq?!” one of the women exclaimed. “As in, New York? That’s… incredible!”

Madam Hillary’s teacup clinked against its saucer as her hands trembled. “Are you certain?”

Jeff nodded. “Yes, Mother. The press conference is happening right now, it’s being broadcast live.”

“Turn on the television!” cried one of the ladies, half-rising from her seat.

Jeff moved quickly, grabbing the remote. The screen flickered to life, filling the room with the bright glow of a global stage.

There she was, Genevieve Smith. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, her eyes bright with confidence. 

Dressed in a sleek white suit, she stood beneath the iconic Nasdaq banner as cameras flashed.

The host’s voice echoed through the speakers: “And here she is, Genevieve Smith, CEO of Auris Technologies, officially marking the company’s entry into the Nasdaq Global Market!”

A thunder of applause filled the hall. For a long moment, no one in the living room spoke. 

Madam Hillary stared at the screen, her lips trembling, pride swelling visibly in her chest. “My daughter…” she whispered. “She’s really done it.”

Her guests were quick to join in their praise. “She’s stunning!”

“What an achievement! Nasdaq, how extraordinary!”

“Hillary, you must be so proud. Truly remarkable!”

Their admiration was genuine, but beneath it all was a new kind of envy, one that now tilted the balance in Madam Hillary’s favor. 

She basked in it, sitting taller, her face glowing with renewed pride, but as the compliments poured in, her gaze drifted toward Jeff, who stood quietly at the edge of the room. 

The faint smile on his lips was one of genuine relief and pride, but in her eyes, it looked misplaced.

The same mop-handed son-in-law standing there, smiling, as if he had any right to share in Genevieve’s glory.

Her pride twisted into irritation. “That will do,” she said curtly. “You’ve made your announcement. Now go back downstairs. The floors won’t clean themselves.”

Jeff blinked. “Mother, I only.”

“Go!” Her tone cracked like a whip. “Don’t embarrass us further. This moment is not for you.”

Silence followed. Even the guests hesitated, uncomfortable at the raw edge of her words. Jeff bowed his head slightly. “Yes, Mother.”

He turned quietly, picking up the empty tray, and walked out of the room. Behind him, laughter and chatter resumed, softer, sweeter, as if nothing had happened. 

The television continued to play, the image of his wife radiant on the world stage, the sound of applause echoing faintly behind him as he descended the stairs.

In the quiet of the servants’ corridor, Jeff paused. The noise from above faded, leaving only the distant hum of the television.

He set the tray down and looked at his reflection in the polished surface of the silver teapot, faint, warped, almost unrecognizable.

He smiled to himself, just a little. “She made it,” he whispered. “That’s all that matters.” 

Then, rolling up his sleeves again, he picked up the mop and went back to work.