The Unfilial Boss Woman

Patrick Anderson stood up from his executive office seat as he finished the day’s work. At 8pm sharp, his personal assistant, Jeff Hudson, knocked and stepped into the office painted in ash-grey to see him.

“Good evening, boss. Are you leaving for home now?” Jeff asked.

Patrick, dressed in a red dress shirt and black trousers, stared at Jeff like a piece of trash and did not respond. He stepped out from his seat, picked up his black coat hanging on the chair, and put it on to prevent the cold weather from chilling his dark skin. He adjusted his necktie properly, snatched his briefcase from the desk, and without a word, walked out.

With a single final glance, Patrick left his office in the luxurious hotel to go home, leaving Jeff Hudson speechless.

Patrick owned a vast range of secret businesses in the state, and his mind was preoccupied with many thoughts: his parents, who had been nagging him to bring home a wife, and the list of competitors who wanted to take him down and out of the business world.

Patrick had kept a series of multiple identities hidden; no one knew who the real Patrick Anderson was, as he kept his business strategies coded.

Futhermore, Patrick exhaled a cold breath as he entered the elevator on the 8th floor, which carried him down to the ground floor of his 10-story multimillion-dollar hotel. His bodyguards stood aside while he stepped out and walked toward the black Prado jeep waiting to take him home.

Patrick glanced back at Jeff, who was rushing to join him, but he did not wait. He slid into the back seat as Jeff reached the front driving seat and the bodyguards shut the door.

Jeff started the engine and drove to the Anderson residence, careful not to anger his boss. He pulled into the mansion premises and parked. Patrick stepped out and walked straight to the mansion’s front entrance.

Patrick’s anger burned—his blood a simmering stew—as he clicked his black shoes on the cement ground and approached the mighty 4-story mansion. He entered the living room, and his new maid, Loveth Logan, greeted him: “Good evening, sir. Welcome home.”

Patrick paused and stared at Loveth irritably but did not respond. He walked to the white couch, dropped his briefcase on it, took off his black coat, and hung it over his shoulder. Then he picked up the briefcase and headed for the elevator, wanting to go up to his mega rooms.

Just then, Patrick's mother, Mrs. Eleanor Anderson, a 70-year-old woman, stepped out from her room downstairs, suffering from kneecap pain. She stared at Loveth, who was still mopping the tiled floor irritably. She frowned as she saw Patrick about to enter the elevator, its door having just dinged open.

“Son…” Her voice trailed as she called him back.

Patrick paused and stared at his mother angrily. He already knew there was nothing else she and his father expected of him other than giving them an heir.

Patrick had four older sisters, all married, as his aged mother gave birth to him last—10 years after his immediate elder sister’s birth. He clutched his briefcase tighter, frowned, and walked back to meet her. She smiled as he approached and gave her a warm hug.

“Good evening, Mother.” Patrick’s greeting rolled out 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 white couch. She asked, “Son, when will you marry? You know your father and I aren’t getting any younger. Or don’t you want us to see the next heir of Anderson Corporation?”

Patrick swallowed, feeling sweat on his forehead at her question.

“Son…” Mrs. Eleanor called for his attention again.

“Mom, don’t worry about your death yet, okay. I will think about a bride soon—probably this week or next.”

“Okay, son.” Mrs. Eleanor smiled.

Patrick stood to leave, but she asked, “Son, how about your girlfriend Willow Albert? Why not make an arrangement to marry her at once? Or what’s the matter, son?”

Patrick exhaled, feeling hot under her question again. He looked away and met eye contact with Loveth. She smiled and blushed as she continued mopping the tiled floor happily.

Patrick’s dark grey eyes scanned Loveth's waist in her pink uniform. She looked beautiful—so cute—making him wonder who had purposely employed her to work in their mansion.

Patrick loosened his necktie from his neck, rolling it in his palms, and shifted his gaze back to his mother.

“Mom, Willow traveled out without informing me. And if that’s not enough, she has refused to give me a proper explanation for leaving me and our relationship.” Patrick fabricated that, since he couldn’t tell his mother the truth about why he broke up with Willow—the cheap slut who was 24/7 horny and fell for any available rod that wanted to thrust into her secret cave.

“But son, I spoke to Willow yesterday, and she told me you both are fine and still together.”

Patrick stiffened and stared back at his mother in disbelief. Forcing a fake smile and a menacing laugh, he replied, “I’m tired, Mom. I will get back to you. Probably next week I will look for a bride, since that’s what you want.”

“Okay, son.” Mrs. Eleanor smiled.

Patrick turned to leave and return up to his executive 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 building the economy.”

Patrick paused and stared back at Loveth, who was now done mopping. She bowed her head low and respectfully as she felt his cold piercing gaze.

“How do you see her? Your eldest sister, Isabel Owen, recommended her services. She’s like a daughter to me and helps me a lot, as I am already old and cannot work much.”

“Come, Loveth,” Mrs. Eleanor said, signaling for her to approach. “Loveth, meet my son, Master Patrick Anderson, sole heir of Anderson Corporation.”

Loveth walked forward into Patrick’s view and bowed her head low 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 sharp and pointed, her lips naturally pink without lip gloss, her long natural blonde hair pulled into a ponytail.

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

“Son, I see you like Loveth. She’s also a very good cook. I cannot help but feel younger and love her even more.”

“Hmm…” Patrick’s eyes narrowed. He replied, “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 up on by 10pm, and I need to be ready for it.”

Without waiting for her response, Patrick turned and walked away. He entered the elevator and went 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 maids ran out of the room.

Patrick had the fourth floor all to himself; the third and second floors were used by his elder sisters, long before they married and whenever they visited.

Patrick threw his black coat and necktie onto the nearest couch, dropped his briefcase, and walked to his bar to take out a bottle of wine.

Furthermore, Patrick was angry, and nothing irritated him more than the thought of ending up marrying a loose woman. He opened the bottle, chugged the wine directly from the mouth, finishing it in one go.

Patrick staggered, feeling the wine’s effect, and sat back on the black stool near the bar top. He popped open another bottle.

“Hate you, Willow!” Patrick cursed. Just then, he heard his sitting room door slide open.