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44. MOTHERS KNOW BEST

Author: Ify Francis
last update Petsa ng paglalathala: 2026-04-30 04:39:09

The supermarket wasn’t crowded, but it wasn’t quiet either. The steady hum of refrigerators, the occasional chatter between customers, and the beep of scanners created a dull rhythm Chelsea had grown oddly accustomed to. It helped her think—or perhaps, helped her not think too much.

She pushed the cart slowly, her eyes drifting over shelves without truly seeing them. Her mind was elsewhere. Her mother’s death was still like a wound that refused to close. It had only been days, yet it felt like
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  • THE JANITOR'S DAUGHTER: Mistress for the CEO   63. SUSANNE

    "Dad, he was about to leave," Chelsea protested, her voice tight with exasperation."Oh, sorry," Evans stammered, his gaze darting awkwardly between his daughter and Davis. The air in the narrow hallway was suffocatingly dense."I'd like to stay for coffee, sir. Thank you very much," Davis said firmly, his deep voice leaving no room for argument as he deliberately ignored Chelsea’s burning glare.Before Chelsea could fire back another refusal, a soft, preliminary purr echoed from the back bedroom, rapidly escalating into a full-throated, earsplitting shriek. The peaceful nap was officially over. Evans let out a quiet curse and quickly dashed down the hall to retrieve his granddaughter.Chelsea moaned in frustration, dropping her chin toward her chest. Beside her, Davis felt the sharp edge of his defiance instantly evaporate, replaced by a sudden, violent thrumming in his throat at the sound of the infant's distress.Moments later, Evans emerged from the hallway cradling a plump, red-f

  • THE JANITOR'S DAUGHTER: Mistress for the CEO   62. THERE IS COFFEE

    After hours of inconsolable shrieking, little Susanne had finally succumbed to exhaustion. Evans had gently tucked her into her wooden cot, smoothing the soft blanket over her small shoulders before creeping back out to the kitchen.Chelsea sat at the small kitchen table, closed her eyes slowly, and inhaled the quiet air. These were the grueling, invisible hours where being a single mother dragged her straight to the precipice. Her face felt tight, stiffened by dry streaks of tears. Crying alongside her daughter was often all she could do when the colic flared, leaving her feeling utterly clueless and pathetically helpless.The silence settling over the shingled cottage was a pure, unadulterated bliss. She was going to give it ten minutes—just ten quiet minutes to let Susanne sink into deep sleep—before she changed into her uniform and left for her night shift. She knew how incredibly lucky she was that Eugene was her boss, granting her an extraordinary level of flexibility that no co

  • THE JANITOR'S DAUGHTER: Mistress for the CEO   61. WILLSON STREET

    The sharp hiss of the pneumatic doors announced the stop, and Davis stepped down from the coast liner, the cool damp air of the evening cutting through his clothes. The bus rattled off into the twilight, leaving him on the curb with a handful of other weary passengers.He took a slow breath, pulling his hoodie tight around his neck. For a man who was used to black-car services and private drivers, riding public transit in a small town was a stark reality check. But keeping a low profile was necessary.....Was it? Chelsea had already spotted him—worse, she’d slept with him, played him like a fool, and slipped out before dawn. But if he started driving high-end rental cars around her quiet neighborhood, she would go to ground completely. He had to stay invisible until he was ready to strike.As he walked down the dimly lit pavement toward the guest house, his mind betrayed him, looping back to the night before. God, she was beautiful. The memory of her skin beneath his hands, the way s

  • THE JANITOR'S DAUGHTER: Mistress for the CEO   60. ANGER WILL KEEP US SAFE

    The morning light cut through the thin hotel curtains like a pale blade, burning away the lingering shadows of the night. Chelsea’s eyes snapped open.Beside her, Davis was still deeply asleep, his broad chest rising and falling in heavy, rhythmic cycles. The sharp, bitter scent of stale scotch clung to his skin. He wouldn't be waking up anytime soon—the five shots of Hungarian liquor, combined with the absolute physical exhaustion of the night, had guaranteed a heavy hangover.This is your chance to escape, her mind screamed.She crept out from beneath the heavy duvet, slipping silently onto the cold floor. She gathered her discarded clothes scattered across the rug—her shirt, her jeans, her boots—and pulled them on with trembling, frantic haste. Every creak of the floorboards sent a sharp spike of adrenaline straight to her chest. If she left now, she could get to her father and her little girl, pack their bags, and vanish into another sleepy town before Davis even managed to pull h

  • THE JANITOR'S DAUGHTER: Mistress for the CEO   59. REKINDLED

    "I'm so sorry, Miss Chelsea," the tired young night clerk said with a sympathetic grimace behind the hotel counter. "The storm warning brought in a rush of travelers. We’re completely filled up tonight.""That's fine, Scott," Chelsea said smoothly, hiding the spike of tension in her jaw. "Just give me my room key, please."She took the brass key card, turning to look at Davis, who was leaning heavily against the oak railing of the lobby stairs, looking thoroughly wrecked."I'll lend you my suite for the night," she said softly, reaching out to catch his elbow to steady him. "I won't be staying in it tonight anyway."Davis let out a hollow, breathy sound that might have been a scoff, allowing her to guide him up the narrow staircase. The hotel was a small, creaky affair, brimming with mid-century charm—tight stairwells, brass fixtures, and a faint smell of aged cedar and sea salt. Chelsea moved with an acute, trembling sense of urgency that didn't match her soft voice."Must be... rea

  • THE JANITOR'S DAUGHTER: Mistress for the CEO   58. THE ONLY WAY OUT

    It felt like a quenched fire finding life again just when you were sure you had snuffed out the very last ember. Inside the cramped, wood-paneled warmth of The Cheryl Pub, the low hum of the evening rush felt miles away, drowned out by the thudding of her own pulse against her ribs.There he sat.In a faded, charcoal-gray hoodie that hid the sharp breadth of his shoulders, a heavy glass of scotch clutched in his long fingers, Davis looked like an apparition dragged straight out of the life she’d burned to the ground twelve months ago. His lips were parted, his piercing blue eyes wide with a staggering mix of exhaustion, disbelief, and raw vulnerability.How did he find me? Why now?Panic clawed at her throat, a suffocating, instinctual terror that threatened to strip away her composure. She couldn't run—not right this second. He had seen her. If she bolted now, he’d chase her, and if he chased her, he’d follow the breadcrumbs straight to the tiny, shingled cottage three miles up the c

  • THE JANITOR'S DAUGHTER: Mistress for the CEO   7. UNSPOKEN TERMS

    The party ended the way all things did for Davis—too slowly for his liking.By the time the last applause faded and the final copy of Fire was signed, Davis’s smile had tightened into something practiced and hollow. He stood beside Chelsea as flashes popped and congratulations poured in, nodding, s

  • THE JANITOR'S DAUGHTER: Mistress for the CEO   6. DINING WITH DIGNITARIES

    As they settled into the luxurious seats, Chelsea realized that Davis wasn't with them. "Is… Davis coming later?" she asked Amber, trying to hide her disappointment."He's meeting you at the event," Amber replied, smiling. "But first, we're going to get you ready for the night. You're going to look

  • THE JANITOR'S DAUGHTER: Mistress for the CEO   5. A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

    The words hit like a slap. “What?” Chelsea stepped closer. “Why?” “There was an environmental issue on one of the floors,” he said quietly. “They said I was responsible.” “But you weren’t,” she protested immediately. “You’ve been saying for weeks that the equipment was faulty.” “I know,” he

  • THE JANITOR'S DAUGHTER: Mistress for the CEO   4. HOPE AND DISMAY

    Chelsea bolted in through the glass doors of the clinic panting breathlessly. The clinic buzzed with controlled chaos—rolling carts, murmured diagnoses, sharp footsteps echoing down white corridors that smelled faintly of antiseptic and burnt coffee. It was nothing like the small facility she had

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