The Unfilial Boss Woman

Patrick stood up from his executive office chair, as he was through with the day's work.

At 8 p.m. sharp, his personal assistant, Jeff Hudson, knocked and stepped into his executive office, which was painted in ash-gray, to see him.

"Good evening, boss. Are you leaving for home now?" Jeff asked.

Patrick, dressed in a red shirt and black trousers, stared at Jeff irritably and did not respond.

He stepped out from behind his desk, picked up his black coat hanging on his chair, and put it on to protect his cool, dark skin from the cold weather. He adjusted his necktie properly and snatched his briefcase from his office desk.

With a final glance, Patrick walked out of his executive office in his luxurious hotel, heading home and leaving Jeff Hudson speechless.

Patrick owned a vast range of secret businesses in the state, and his mind was preoccupied with various thoughts.

These ranged from his parents pressuring him to bring home a wife, to the list of competitors who wanted to take him down in the business world.

Patrick had kept a series of multiple identities hidden, and no one knew who the real Patrick Anderson was, as he kept his business strategies coded.

Patrick breathed out a cold breath as he entered the elevator on the 8th floor, which took him down to the ground floor of his 10-story, multimillion-dollar hotel.

His bodyguards stood aside, guarding him as he stepped out and walked toward the Prado Jeep that was waiting to take him home.

Patrick glanced back at Jeff, who was rushing to join him in the Prado Jeep, but he did not wait.

Patrick entered his car and sat in the back seat while Jeff approached and slid into the front driver's seat. The bodyguards shut the back door closed.

Jeff ignited the Jeep's engine and drove out, taking Patrick home to the Andersons' residence without wanting to anger him.

Jeff arrived at the Anderson's manor and drove into the mansion premises, then he parked.

However, Patrick stepped down and walked straight toward the mansion's front entrance.

Patrick was angry, and his blood boiled as he clicked his black shoes on the cemented ground and approached their mighty 4-story building.

Patrick entered the living room, and his new maid, Loveth Logan, greeted him: "Good evening, sir. Welcome home."

Patrick paused and stared at Loveth irritably, but he did not respond. He walked straight to the milk-colored couch in the living room, threw his briefcase on it, took off his black coat, and draped it over his shoulder.

Then, he picked up his briefcase and walked toward the elevator, wanting to go up to his master rooms.

Patrick's mother, Mrs. Eleanor Anderson, a 70-year-old woman who suffered from kneecap pain, stepped out from her room below. She stared at Loveth, who was still mopping the tiled floor, with irritation.

She frowned and saw Patrick about to enter the elevator as its door dinged open.

"Patrick..." Mrs. Eleanor called, her voice trailed as she called him back.

Patrick paused and stared at his mother angrily. He knew that she and his father expected nothing else from him other than giving them an heir.

Patrick had four older sisters, and they were married. His aged mother had birthed him last, after a 10-year gap following his immediate elder sister's birth.

Patrick clutched his briefcase tighter as he frowned and walked back to meet his mother. She smiled at him as he approached and gave her a warm hug.

"Good evening, mother," Patrick's greeting rolled from his lips like a whisper, and his mother smiled at him and replied, "Welcome, my son. How was your day at the office?"

"Fine, mother," Patrick said. He sat with his mother on the executive couch, and she asked him, "My son, when will you finally marry? You know your father and I aren't getting any younger, or don't you want us to see the next heir of Anderson Corporation?"

Patrick swallowed as he felt his forehead grow sweaty at his mother's question.

"My son..." Mrs. Eleanor called to Patrick's attention again, and he replied, "Mom, don't worry about your death yet, okay? I will think about a bride soon, probably this week or next."

"Okay, my son," Mrs. Eleanor smiled at Patrick, and he stood up to leave, but she asked him another question.

"Son, how about your fiancèe, Willow Albert? Why not make arrangements to marry her at once, or what's the matter?"

Patrick breathed out as he felt hot at her question again. He stared away and made eye contact with their new maid, Loveth, who smiled at him and blushed, as she continued mopping the tiled floor happily.

Patrick's unique dark gray eyes scanned Loveth's waist in her pink maid uniform, and she looked so beautiful, making him wonder who had purposely employed her to work in their mansion.

Patrick loosened his necktie from his neck, rolled it in his palms, and shifted his gaze back to his mother.

"Mom, Willow traveled out without informing me about it. As if that's not enough, she has refused to give me a proper explanation for leaving me and our relationship." Patrick fabricated that story, of course, as he couldn't tell his mother the truth about why he broke up with Willow—the cheap, promiscuous woman who was ready for any available man.

"But, I spoke to Willow yesterday, and she told me you both are fine and still together."

Patrick stiffened and stared back at his mother in disbelief.

Forcing a fake smile and a menacing laugh, Patrick replied, "I'm tired, Mom. I will get back to you, and probably next week, I will look for a bride, since that's what you want."

"Okay, my son," Mrs. Eleanor smiled at Patrick, and he turned to leave and return to his executive rooms on the fourth floor, but her voice stopped him again.

"Patrick, have you met Loveth Logan? She's the new maid from Westwood, and her mother is one of the charitable women contributing to building the economy."

Patrick paused and stared back at Loveth, who was now through mopping the tiled floor. She bowed her head respectfully to him as she felt his cold, piercing gaze on her.

"How do you see her? Your eldest sister, Isabel Owen, recommended Loveth's services to us, and she's like a daughter to me. She helps me a lot, as I'm already old and cannot work much."

"Come, Loveth," Mrs. Eleanor said, stopping her talking and signaling to Loveth to come over.

"Loveth, meet my son, Master Patrick Anderson, the sole heir to Anderson Corporation."

Loveth walked forward into Patrick's view and bowed her head to him again.

"It's an honor to meet you, sir," Loveth spoke, but Patrick stood speechless as he sank into deep thinking.

Was this some sort of temptation or setup by his mother?

Her eyes were so shining black like obsidian. Her nose was very sharply pointed, her lips naturally pink without lip gloss, and her long, natural blonde hair was packed into a ponytail.

Her skin looked so flawless, like milk and honey mixed together. Patrick took his time assessing Loveth's beauty until his mother's words finally snapped him out of it.

"My son, I see you like Loveth. She's also a very good cook, and I cannot help but feel younger and love her more."

"Hmm..." Patrick's eyes narrowed at Loveth, and he replied to his mother, "Fine, mother. It's good to see she's taking good care of you. I have to go upstairs now, as I have an important online business meeting to catch up with by 10 p.m., and I need to be ready for it."

Without waiting for his mother's response, Patrick turned and walked away from them. He headed back to the elevator, entered it, and went up to the fourth floor.

"Damn it!" Patrick cursed as he stepped out of the elevator and into his sitting room on the fourth floor. The two maids there quickly greeted him, "Good evening, sir. Welcome home."

"Shut up and get out!" Patrick thundered, and without warning, the two maids immediately ran out and left the fourth-floor sitting room.

Patrick used the fourth floor all to himself, while the third and second floors were used by his elder sisters, long before they got married or whenever they were around.

Patrick threw his black coat and necktie onto the nearest couch, dropped his briefcase too, and walked up to his bar in the sitting room to take out an alcoholic wine.

Patrick was angry, and nothing irritated him more than the thought of ending up marrying a loose, promiscuous woman.

Patrick took out the alcoholic wine bottle, opened it, and chugged down the contents directly from the bottle's mouth, finishing it in one go.

Patrick staggered as he felt the wine's effects on him and sat back on the black stool closer to the bar top. He popped open another wine bottle.

"I hate you, Willow!" Patrick cursed out. Just then, he heard his sitting room door slide open.