The Unfilial Boss Woman

Patrick stood up from his executive office chair, finished with the day's work. At 8 p.m. sharp, his personal assistant, Jeff Hudson, knocked and stepped into the ash-gray office to see him.

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

Patrick, dressed in a red polo shirt and plain black trousers, stared at Jeff like a piece of trash. He didn't respond as he rose from his chair, picked up his black coat from the back of it, and slipped it on to ward off the cold weather that might chill his cool, dark skin. He adjusted his necktie, then snatched his briefcase from the desk.

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

Patrick owned a vast range of secret businesses in the state, and his mind was preoccupied with thoughts ranging from his parents' constant nagging about him finding a wife to the list of competitors eager to take him down in the business world.

Patrick had kept multiple identities hidden, and no one knew the real Patrick Anderson, as he coded all his business strategies.

Breathing out a cold breath, Patrick entered the elevator on the eighth floor. It immediately descended to the ground level of his ten-story, multimillion-dollar hotel. His bodyguards stood aside, guarding him as he stepped out and walked toward the Prado Jeep waiting to take him home.

Patrick glanced back at Jeff, who was rushing to join him, but he didn't wait. He entered the vehicle and sat in the back seat. Jeff approached and slid into the front driver's seat as the bodyguards closed the rear door.

Jeff ignited the engine and drove out, heading to the Andersons' residence without wanting to anger hia boss.

Jeff arrived and pulled into the mansion's premises, parking the Jeep. Patrick stepped out and walked straight toward the front of their mansion.

Patrick was angry, his blood boiling as his black shoes clicked against the cemented ground. He approached their mighty four-story mansion.

He entered the living room, where his new maid, Loveth Logan, greeted him. "Good evening, sir. Welcome home."

Patrick paused and stared at Loveth irritably. He didn't respond but walked straight to the milk-colored couch, threw his briefcase onto it, took off his black coat, and draped it over his shoulder. Then he picked up his briefcase and headed toward the elevator, intending to go up to his master suite.

Patrick's mother, Mrs. Eleanor Anderson—a seventy-year-old woman who suffered from kneecap pain—stepped out from her room on the first floor. She stared irritably at Loveth, who was still mopping the tiled floor, then spotted Patrick about to enter the elevator as its doors dinged open.

"Son..." Her voice trailed off as she called him back. Patrick paused and stared at his mother angrily, already knowing she and his father expected nothing more from him than to give them an heir.

Patrick had four older sisters, all married, as his aged mother had birthed him last, ten years after his immediate elder sister's birth.

Patrick clutched his briefcase tighter, frowning as he 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. His mother smiled and replied, "Welcome, son. How was your day at the office?"

"Fine, Mother." Patrick sat with her on the executive couch. She asked, "Son, when will you finally marry? You know your father and I aren't getting any younger. Don't you want us to see the next heir to Anderson Corporation?"

Patrick swallowed, feeling sweat bead on his forehead at his mother's question.

"Son..." Mrs. Eleanor called to get his attention again. He replied, "Mom, don't worry about your death yet, okay? I'll think about a bride soon—probably this week or next."

"Okay, son." Mrs. Eleanor smiled at Patrick, and he stood to leave, but she asked, "Son, how about your girlfriend, Willow Albert? Why not arrange to marry her at once? What's the matter?"

Patrick breathed out, feeling 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. She looked so beautiful and cute that he wondered who had purposely employed her to work in their mansion.

Patrick loosened his necktie from around his neck, rolling it in his palms, and shifted his gaze back to his mother. "Mom, Willow traveled abroad without informing me. And as if that's not enough, she's refused to give me a proper explanation for leaving me and our relationship." Patrick fabricated that, of course—he couldn't tell his mother the truth about why he'd broken up with Willow, the cheap slut who was 24/7 horny and fell for any available man who wanted to thrust into her.

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

Patrick stiffened and stared at his mother in disbelief.

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

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

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

Patrick paused and glanced back at Loveth, who had finished mopping the tiled floor. She bowed her head respectfully, feeling his cold, piercing gaze on her.

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

"Come, Loveth," Mrs. Eleanor said, stopping to signal her over. "Loveth, meet my son, Master Patrick Anderson, 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," she said. But Patrick stood speechless, sinking into deep thought.

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

Her eyes shone black like a cat's. Her nose was sharply pointed, her lips naturally pink without gloss, and her long, natural blonde hair was packed into a ponytail.

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

"Son, I see you like Loveth. She's also a very good cook, and I can't help but feel younger—I love her more every day."

"Hmm..." Patrick's eyes finally narrowed at Loveth. He replied to his mother, "Fine, Mother. Good to see she's taking good care of you. I have to go upstairs now—I have an important online business meeting to catch at 10 p.m., and I need to prepare."

Without waiting for his mother's response, Patrick turned and walked away. He entered the elevator and rode up to the fourth floor.

"Fụck!" Patrick cursed as he stepped out into his sitting room. The two maids there quickly greeted him: "Good evening, boss. Welcome home."

"Shut up and get out!" Patrick thundered. Without warning, the two maids ran out, leaving the fourth-floor sitting room empty. Patrick used the entire fourth floor for himself; the third and second floors had been used by his elder sisters long before they married or whenever they visited.

Patrick threw his black coat and necktie onto the nearest couch, dropped his briefcase, and walked to the bar in his sitting room to pour an alcoholic drink.

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

Patrick took out a bottle of wine, opened it, and chugged the contents straight from the bottle in one go.

Staggering, Patrick felt the wine's effect, and sat back on the black stool at the bar top. He popped open another bottle.

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