The Cleaning Lady
Chapter 7 in The Series: The Justified
February 6th, 2026 / µ
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Certain long-standing institutions, agencies, and public offices are mentioned, but the characters are entirely imaginary. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with those of the author.
Image © Haute Stock
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Paris, 2012.
What now? 9 pm and knocking on the door. So much for an intercom, Sofie thought.
“Hello, I clean now,” a young woman said when Sofie opened the door.
“Excuse me?” Sofie said. “Who are you?”
“I here to clean,” the young woman said.
“I am sorry, I didn’t request any cleaning services; you must have the wrong apartment,” Sofie said.
“No,” the young woman said, showing Sofie an address on a piece of paper in her hand. “Is here. I clean.”
“Let me see that,” Sofie said. It was true, it was there, Sofie’s address was on the paper, next to the code to get into the building.
“Where did you get this from?” Sofie asked. “Who sent you?”
“Boss sent me… to clean,” the young woman said.
“Sorry, but your boss got the wrong address. Have a nice –“
“I need clean!” the young woman said, sounding both angry and scared, pushing the door back with the palms of her tiny hands.
“I just told you –“ Sofie tried, but the young woman pushed Sofie aside and forced her way into the apartment.
“Hey, you can’t just –“
“Where I start?” The young woman asked, her voice nervous.
“You start by getting the hell out of my home, that’s where!” Sofie said. What was this?
“No, I need 20 euros. I clean,” the young woman said, and Sofie could see her eyes tearing up.
“Okay, let’s just calm down and talk about this, okay?” Sofie said, trying to be nice to the person who had just forced her way into her apartment.
“20 euros - I need,” the young woman said.
“I get that – just sit down, okay? Do you speak English?” Sofie asked.
“No,” the young woman answered.
“Where are you from?” Sofie asked.
“Brazil,” the young woman said.
“Okay, well, I don’t know a word of Portuguese, but let’s try to find out what went wrong here, because I didn’t hire any help to clean my apartment. I can handle 25 square meters by myself, okay?” Sofie said, trying to sound friendly.
“Hmm,” the young woman said, sitting on the couch, her eyes almost glued to the floor, her hands red and swollen.
With Sofie’s lousy Spanish mixed with Portuguese, English, and French, Sofie found out that the young woman had been sent to clean and return with 20 euros for her boss, 4 of which she got to keep. How Sofie’s address had ended up on her schedule was a bit of a mystery. The young woman had no say in where she worked. All she got in the morning was a list of addresses, complete with digicodes and phone numbers. It was a 12-hour workday, and she shared a studio outside the city with five other young women.
Sofie knew what she was looking at, but right now, she did not need more problems. So, even if this setup seemed worth looking into, even if this situation screamed human trafficking, Sofie decided to let it go. She gave the young woman 20 euros and a sandwich, then sent her on her way, telling her to tell her boss she did not need any more cleaning.
Sofie hoped that that would be that and that she would never see the young woman again.
But that was not how things turned out. Because the young woman came back, and Sofie ignored all the rational voices in her head telling her to stay away from the gutter-squads and their affairs, and ventured into a world of exploitation and darkness.
All rights reserved © 2026 by Annette My Grandjean Rønne
Thanks for reading! I hope you found it worth your time! Until next time, remember to get your facts straight, and that whatever good times you have won’t come back as bad times!