I Signed for Housework, Not His Retirement

"You're not going to say no, are you? Do you really want me to spill your business to everyone?" Paul Miller, my part-time helper, asked tentatively.

When I stayed silent, he went on, insisting I see things his way, "Why are you taking so long over something so trivial? Sure, I'm just a part-time housekeeper, but I've been working for you for seven years.

"I may not have done anything impressive, but I've worked hard. All I'm asking for is your house. I even gave you two options. Why can't you make a decision? Is it really that hard? I've treated you like family all these years. Don't go and break my heart now."

I froze, stunned by the audacity in Paul's tone.

Moments later, I finally spoke. "Paul, you can't just expect both retirement funds and a house. That's too much. There's no way I'd agree to either. If you want to make a fuss, go ahead. Let everyone judge what's fair."

At my words, Paul went rigid. But he quickly recovered, his expression darkening with irritation.

Ignoring the last part of what I said, he continued, "You might not have heard of it, but that's just how things work around here."

After a brief pause, he added in a lecturing tone, "Honestly, I'm doing this for your own good. Look at you. You're a young man with so much property in a big city. How could you possibly watch over it all by yourself? But if you give me the house, I'll take care of it for you. You won't have to worry about a thing."

As Paul spoke, a calculating glint flashed in his eyes. Every word he said made it clear that he wanted my house for himself.

Since he would not let up, my patience snapped, and my expression turned cold.

"Paul, if you keep this up, I'll call the police. My parents are still alive, so why would I leave you my house? Besides, you have your own children to take care of you. Why are you coming after me?"

At the mention of the police, Paul restrained himself a little. But the moment his retirement came up, he got worked up again.

"Well, it would take some pressure off my kids. And you're rich. So what if I take a little?"

That was the last straw. I slammed my phone onto the table, the dull thud echoing through the room.

"I'll be blunt. Your retirement is none of my damn business!" I retorted, my voice icy. "From today on, you're done here. You'll get paid for today, but if you want more, go get it from the police!"