The Unfilial Boss Woman

Patrick stood up from his executive office chair, finished with the day's work. At 8 p.m. sharp, his personal assistant, Jeff Hudson, knocked and stepped into the ash-grey painted office to see him.

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

Patrick, dressed in a red shirt and plain black trousers, glared at Jeff as if he were a piece of trash. He did not respond. Instead, he stepped out from behind his desk, picked up his black coat, which was hanging on the chair, and put it on to protect his cool, dark skin from the cold weather outside.

Patrick adjusted his necktie, grabbed his briefcase from the desk, and prepared to leave.

With a final glance around, Patrick walked out of his executive office, leaving Jeff Hudson speechless as he headed home from his luxurious hotel.

Patrick owned a vast range of secret businesses in the state, and his mind was preoccupied with countless thoughts, from his parents pressuring him to get married, to the list of competitors trying to push him out of the business world.

Patrick had kept multiple identities hidden, and no one knew who the real Patrick Anderson was, as his business strategies were always coded and confidential.

Patrick exhaled as he entered the elevator on the 8th floor, which immediately descended to the ground floor of his ten-story, multimillion-dollar hotel. His bodyguards waited for him, standing nearby as he exited and walked toward the Prado Jeep that would take him home.

Patrick glanced back at Jeff, who was rushing to join him. Without waiting, Patrick slipped into the back seat of the Prado while Jeff slid into the driver’s seat up front. The bodyguards shut the door behind Patrick.

Jeff started the engine and drove Patrick home to the Anderson residence, careful not to upset his boss.

When they arrived, Jeff drove through the mansion gates and parked. Patrick stepped out and walked directly toward the impressive four-story mansion.

Patrick was still angry, his blood boiling as he clicked his black shoes against the cement and approached the grand entrance.

Inside, Patrick's new maid, Loveth Logan, greeted him. "Good evening, sir. Welcome home."

Patrick paused, glaring irritably at Loveth, but said nothing. He walked straight to the white couch in the living room, threw his briefcase onto it, took off his black coat and draped it over his shoulder.

Picking up his briefcase again, Patrick headed toward the elevator, wanting to go up to his private quarters.

Just then, Patrick's mother, Mrs. Eleanor Anderson, a 70-year-old woman suffering from knee pain, stepped out from her room downstairs. She frowned as she noticed Patrick heading for the elevator.

"Son..." her voice trailed off as she called to him.

Patrick stopped, turned, and stared at his mother, already knowing there was nothing she or his father expected from him except to provide an heir.

Patrick had four older sisters, all married. His mother gave birth to him last, ten years after his immediate older sister.

Clutching his briefcase, Patrick sighed and returned to his mother. She smiled as he approached and gave her a warm hug.

"Good evening, Mother," Patrick whispered, and she smiled back.

"Welcome, son. How was your day at the office?"

"Fine, Mother." Patrick sat with her on the couch. She asked, "Son, when will you finally marry? You know your father and I are not getting any younger. Don’t you want us to see the next heir of the Anderson Corporation?"

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

"Son..." Mrs. Eleanor called for his attention again, and he replied, "Mom, don’t worry about your death yet, okay? I’ll think about a bride soon, probably this week or next."

"Okay, son." Mrs. Eleanor smiled.

Patrick stood to leave, but she asked, "How about your girlfriend, Willow Albert? Why not make arrangements to marry her at once, or what’s the matter, son?"

Patrick exhaled, feeling hot under her questioning gaze. He glanced away, making eye contact with the maid, Loveth, who smiled at him as she continued mopping the floor.

Patrick’s unique, dark grey eyes scanned Loveth’s figure in her pink maid uniform. She looked so beautiful, he wondered who had intentionally hired her to work in their mansion.

Patrick loosened his necktie and shifted his gaze back to his mother.

"Mom, Willow traveled without telling me, and, as if that wasn't enough, she refuses to give me a proper explanation for leaving me and our relationship." This was a lie, of course—Patrick couldn’t tell his mother the truth about why he broke up with Willow, the promiscuous woman who was constantly unfaithful.

"But son, I spoke to Willow yesterday. She told me you two are fine and still together."

Patrick stiffened, staring at his mother in disbelief.

Forcing a fake smile and a menacing laugh, Patrick said, "I’m tired, Mom. I’ll get back to you. Maybe next week I’ll look for a bride, since that’s what you want."

"Okay, son." Mrs. Eleanor smiled, and Patrick turned to go upstairs. 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 women helping to clean up the local economy."

Patrick paused, glancing at Loveth, who had finished mopping and now bowed politely as she felt his gaze.

"What do you think of her, son? Your eldest sister, Isabel Owen, recommended her. She’s like a daughter to me and helps me a lot, since I can’t do as much as I used to."

"Come, Loveth," Mrs. Eleanor beckoned.

"Loveth, meet my son, Master Patrick Anderson, sole heir to Anderson Corporation."

Loveth stepped forward and bowed again. "It’s an honor to meet you, sir," she said.

Patrick stood speechless, lost in thought. Was this some sort of temptation or a setup by his mother?

Loveth’s eyes were shiny and black. Her nose was sharply pointed, her lips naturally pink, her long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. Her skin looked flawless, like milk and honey.

Patrick found himself assessing Loveth's beauty until his mother’s words snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Patrick, I see you like Loveth. She’s also a very good cook, and I can’t help but feel younger and love her more."

"Hmm..." Patrick’s eyes narrowed, but he replied, "It’s good to see she’s taking care of you, Mother. I have to go upstairs now—I have an important online business meeting at 10 p.m., and I need to get ready."

Without waiting for a response, Patrick turned and walked to the elevator, heading up to the fourth floor.

"Damn it!" Patrick cursed as he entered his sitting room. The two maids there quickly greeted him, "Good evening, boss, welcome home."

"Shut up and get out!" Patrick thundered. The two maids immediately scurried out; Patrick typically used the fourth floor alone, while the other floors belonged to his sisters when they were around.

Patrick flung his coat and necktie onto the nearest couch, dropped his briefcase, and walked to his bar to fetch a bottle of liquor.

Nothing irritated him more than the thought of ending up with a loose woman he didn’t respect.

Patrick grabbed a bottle of alcohol, opened it, and took a long chug straight from the bottle, finishing it in one go.

He staggered from the effect, sank onto a stool by the bar, and opened another bottle.

"I hate you, Willow!" Patrick spat, just as he heard the door to his sitting room slide open.