My Arrogant Boss

EVERETT

AGE 11

I dropped my schoolbag onto the sofa and hurried toward the kitchen, leaving my shoes scattered across the floor. However, the moment I stepped inside, I froze. My mother was lying on the floor, a small amount of white powder clinging to her hand and the area beneath her nose. For a moment, I couldn't move. Then I screamed and rushed to her side, wrapping my arms around her pale body and begging her to wake up. White foam spilled from her mouth, and her body twitched uncontrollably, but her eyes remained closed. She had been fine when I'd left for school that morning, so what had happened?

"Mommy, LOOK AT ME, PLEASE!"

I shook her gently, tears streaming down my face, but she didn't respond. Terrified, I ran outside, desperately searching for someone who could help. My father was drunk again, and I knew he wouldn't help her. I screamed until a man finally approached me and asked what was wrong. Through my tears, I explained that my mother wouldn't open her eyes. He dropped his grocery bags and hurried inside with me. By then, several neighbors had gathered, whispering about my mother's addiction and expressing pity for me. Their words barely registered. All I wanted was for someone to save her.

The man knelt beside my mother and checked on her before slowly turning toward me. I didn't need him to speak. The answer was already written across his face.

"I'm sorry, kiddo."

"No!" I stumbled backward, refusing to believe him. My mother couldn't be dead. She couldn't leave me alone in a world where my father barely cared about anything beyond alcohol. I slid down the wall and cried until my chest ached, unable to accept that the woman who had loved me was never going to open her eyes again.

PRESENT DAY

I jolted awake, sweat covering my body. For days, memories of my mother's death had been returning without warning, dragging me back into a past I'd spent years trying to forget. Sometimes, I could almost hear her sweet voice singing to me. Other times, all I remembered was the kitchen floor and the moment a stranger told me she was gone.

I sat on the edge of my bed, pressing my palms against my face as I tried to steady my breathing. I was no longer the helpless eleven-year-old girl who had watched her world fall apart. I was twenty now, with a job, responsibilities, and a life I was desperately trying to hold together. I couldn't afford to remain trapped in the past forever.

After getting ready for work, I grabbed my bag and headed downstairs. My father was slumped over the kitchen table, fast asleep, with an empty beer bottle hanging loosely from his hand. He had been drinking for half his life, but his addiction had worsened after my mother's death. He refused to hold down a job, and whenever he managed to find one, he either quit or got fired. I had learned to stretch our money, buy groceries, and take care of responsibilities that should never have belonged to me.

I took the bottle from his hand and threw it into the trash before heading toward the door.

"Where are you going, kiddo?" he mumbled.

"Work, Dad."

"Come back early. We have to talk about something serious."

I paused, wondering what trouble he'd gotten himself into this time, but I didn't question him. Instead, I left the house and headed to Brindlewick, hoping whatever he wanted to discuss could wait until later.

Considering my difficult background, I considered myself lucky to have secured an internship at such a prestigious company. The job paid well enough to help me cover our household expenses, and whenever I had money left over, I used it to renovate my mother's old house. It wasn't much, but it was my way of keeping her memory alive.

Unfortunately, I was always late for work. Between taking care of my father and managing everything at home, my mornings rarely went according to plan. Still, I knew I couldn't afford to lose this opportunity.

When I arrived at the company, I hurried toward the elevator, my hundred-dollar heels clicking against the immaculate marble floor. Thankfully, my boss hadn't arrived yet, giving me a few precious minutes to settle at my desk.

I had barely opened my notebook when a colleague approached me.

"Ms. Hale, Mr. Kessler would like to see you in his office."

My stomach sank. Sebastian Kessler never summoned me unless he wanted something done, and his requests rarely involved anything beyond making his coffee.

I inhaled deeply and headed toward his office, trying to calm my nerves. The enormous black doors opened into a room as intimidating as the man who occupied it. Sebastian sat behind his desk in a black Tom Ford suit, complete with silver cufflinks, a black dress shirt, and a matching tie. Everything about him screamed wealth, power, and authority. There was something dark and unsettling about him that made me want to turn around and run.

He didn't look up when I entered.

"Good morning, sir. I heard you requested my presence."

He continued working for several seconds before finally speaking.

"You are late for work, Ms. Hale. Again."

My stomach tightened as he reprimanded me for my repeated lateness. He made it clear that he didn't care about my personal circumstances and expected me to arrive on time regardless of what happened outside the office. When I explained that I'd needed to take care of my father, he dismissed my explanation without the slightest sympathy.

"I don't care whether you have to take care of a cat, a dog, a parent, or a dying man on the street. I expect you to be at work on time. Even someone with two ears should be able to understand me."

His words stung, but I swallowed my response. I wanted to explain that I wasn't late because I didn't care about my job. I was simply trying to manage a life that never seemed to get easier. However, I knew arguing would only make things worse.

Sebastian finally lifted his gaze from the computer.

"Make me tea. Black. Two spoons of sugar. It should be hot."

That was why he'd summoned me. Not to discuss my performance or hear my explanation, but to remind me of my place.

"Yes, sir."

I hurried out of his office and allowed myself to breathe only when I was safely outside. As I returned to my desk, I glanced at the notebook containing my unfinished tasks. Frustration replaced some of my fear. I had worked too hard to get here, and I wasn't going to let one arrogant man convince me that I didn't belong.

I picked up my notebook and headed to the kitchen to make his tea. I might have been afraid of Sebastian Kessler, but I wasn't giving up my future just because he made my life difficult.

Not today.