Chapter 3:From The Accused To His Admired

Mr. Shawn stared at us like a math teacher whose students couldn’t solve his equations.

“What’s going on here?” he asked sharply, his eyes darting between me and his daughter.

Diane’s hands were shiny with grease, her mouth full of crumbs. He raised his voice. “I said, what’s going on!”

Before I could say a word, both of us blurted out, “It was her fault!”

We froze, turned to each other, and shouted in unison, “Hey! How could you snitch on me?”

Mr. Shawn’s jaw tightened. “Is this the level of professionalism you bring to my house?” His tone was cold enough to turn the room into an icebox. “I didn’t expect this from someone with your so-called excellent recommendations.”

My heart sank. First day on the job, and I was already one foot out the door.

Before I could defend myself, Diane stepped forward, her little face serious. “It’s not her fault, Daddy. It’s mine.”

Mr. Shawn blinked. “What?”

“I snuck into her room and took her takeout,” she said quickly. “I didn’t want to eat what the chef made, and she only let me take a bite… or two… or maybe six.”

I stared at her in disbelief. She was actually taking the blame for me.

Mr. Shawn sighed, rubbing his temples. “Diane…”

But when she gave him that wide, guilty smile, his expression softened. Of course it did. Who could stay mad at that face?

He looked at me again, his voice calmer now. “I know how naughty she can be sometimes. I apologize for yelling.”

“It’s fine, sir,” I murmured, relief washing over me.

He turned to Diane. “You can have it this one time, but that’s it. Understood?”

“Yes, Daddy!” she squealed and jumped into my arms. “My daddy’s the best!”

I laughed softly. “Yes, he is.”

As we were about to leave, Mr. Shawn’s voice stopped me cold.

“After you clean her up, meet me in the study.”

Oh no. Diane couldn’t save me from that one.

Later, while Diane ate the last bite of her burger, I secretly wished it would never end—because the moment she finished, I’d have to face him.

When she finally yawned and rubbed her eyes, I helped her wash up, tucked her into bed, and whispered, “Goodnight, princess.”

Then came my trial.

The walk to the study felt like heading into court.

I knocked gently.

“Come in,” came a deep, commanding voice.

Shivers ran down my spine as I pushed the door open. The room was warm and masculine—dark wood, soft lighting, and the faint scent of his cologne hanging in the air.

He looked up from his desk. “Sit.”

I did. Well, I tried. He spoke before I could even settle into the chair.

“I am so, so, so—”

I panicked and blurted out, “Disappointed?”

He raised an eyebrow. “No...impressed.”

“Wait… what?”

A rare smile tugged at his lips. “I’m impressed by how you managed to get Diane to stand up for you. That’s something she hasn’t done for anyone in a long time. You’re bringing out the courageous side in her, and I like that.”

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

He was complimenting me.

When he reached across the table and held my hand, it wasn’t flirtatious—it was sincere, full of gratitude. “Keep doing what you’re doing. You’ve already made an impact.”

“I—thank you, Mr. Shawn,” I stammered, trying to keep my heartbeat in check.

He leaned back. “Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll take you and Diane to her favorite mall. She’ll pick out some clothes and accessories for you. Consider it a welcome gesture.”

I smiled shyly. “That’s… very kind of you.”

He nodded once. “Dismissed.”

I walked out with my heart doing backflips in my chest.

Was that real? Did I just survive a courtroom trial and walk out with… a compliment?

And his hand…

Warm. Firm. Grateful.

I shook my head. “Get it together, Renzy,” I muttered under my breath. “He’s your boss. A very hot, very intimidating, very confidential boss.”

The hallway felt quieter, like even the walls had held their breath during that meeting—or maybe it was just Diane’s nap time.

I tied my hair up, rolled my sleeves, and found the nearest cleaning cabinet. Time to earn my keep.

Mop. Bucket. Gloves. The essentials.

Thirty minutes later, I was humming to myself, gliding the mop across the marble floor like a sweaty, off-brand Cinderella. The floors sparkled, but my mind was still spinning with Mr. Shawn’s words.

Was this really my life now?

Because if it was… I was starting to like it.

A hot boss.

A creepy but cool personal assistant.

The world’s best chef.

And a little girl who acted like the annoying kid sister I never had.

Not to mention a mansion with rooms that felt like five-star hotel suites.

By the time I was done, I was drenched in sweat. Who knew cleaning a mansion could take five hours?

As I wiped my forehead, I saw Mr. Shawn heading my way. My heart skipped. My hair was a mess, my shirt clung to my skin, and I probably looked like a melted popsicle.

I froze.

And then—

I couldn’t believe what he did next.