The Unfilial Boss Woman

Patrick Anderson, a 27-year-old man stood up from his executive office seat, finished with the day's work. At 8 p.m. sharp, his personal assistant, Jeff Hudson, knocked and stepped into the office painted in ash grey.

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

Patrick, dressed in a red dress shirt and black plain trousers, stared at Jeff like a piece of trash. He didn't respond. He stepped out from behind his desk, picked up his black coat hanging on the chair, and wore it to shield his cool dark skin from the cold weather that could freeze him to death. He adjusted his necktie properly, snatched his briefcase from the desk, and with a single final glance, walked out of his office in his luxurious hotel, heading home and leaving Jeff Hudson speechless.

Patrick owned a vast range of secret businesses across the state. His mind was preoccupied with many thoughts—from his parents, who had been disturbing him about bringing home a wife, to the list of competitors wanting to take him down and push him out of the business world. Patrick had kept multiple identities hidden; no one knew who the real Patrick Anderson was, as he kept his business strategies coded.

Patrick breathed out a cold breath as he entered the elevator on the 8th floor, which immediately took him down to the ground floor of his 10-story multimillion-dollar hotel. His bodyguards stood aside, guarding him as he stepped out and walked toward the black Prado Jeep made available to take him home. Patrick glanced back to see Jeff rushing to join him, but he didn't wait. He entered and sat in the back seat while Jeff approached, slid into the driver's seat, and the bodyguards shut the back door closed.

Jeff ignited the Jeep's engine and drove out, taking Patrick home to the Anderson residence, careful not to anger him. Jeff arrived, drove into the mansion premises, and parked. Patrick stepped down and walked straight toward the mansion's frontage. Patrick was angered, his blood constantly boiling hot, as he clicked his black shoes on the cemented ground and approached their mighty 4-story mansion.

Patrick entered the living room, and his new maid, Loveth Logan, greeted him: "Good evening, sir. Welcome home."

Patrick paused and stared at Loveth irritably. He didn't respond. He walked straight toward the milk-colored couch in the living room, threw his briefcase on it, took off his black coat, and hung it over his shoulder. He picked up his briefcase and walked straight toward 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, suffering from kneecap pain. She frowned as she stared at Loveth, still mopping the tiled floor irritably. She saw Patrick about to enter the elevator, whose door dinged open.

"Son..." Her voice trailed as she called him back. Patrick paused and stared at his mother angrily, already knowing there was nothing else she and his promiscuous father expected of him other than giving them an heir.

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

"Good evening, mother," Patrick's greeting rolled out from his lips like a whisper. His mother smiled and replied, "Welcome, son. How was your day in the office?"

"Fine, mother." Patrick sat with his mother on the executive couch, and she asked him, "Son, when will you finally 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 his forehead sweat at his mother's question.

"Son..." Mrs. Eleanor called for Patrick's attention again, and he replied, "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 at Patrick. He stood up to leave, but she asked him, "Son, how about your fiancée, Willow Albert? Why not make an arrangement to go marry her at once? Or what's the matter, son?"

Patrick breathed out, feeling hot at her question again. He stared away and met eyes with their new maid, Loveth. She smiled at him and blushed as she continued mopping the tiled floor happily.

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

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

"Mom, Willow traveled without informing me. And like that's not enough, she has refused to give me a proper explanation for leaving me and our relationship." Patrick forged that, as of course he couldn't tell his mother the truth about why he broke up with Willow—the cheap slut who was 24 hours 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 unbelievably. Forcing a fake smile and menacing laughter, he replied, "I'm tired, Mom. I'll get back to you. Probably next week, I'll look for a bride, since that's what you want."

"Okay, my son." Mrs. Eleanor smiled at Patrick. He turned to leave and return to his executive rooms on the fourth floor, but her voice stopped him again.

"Son, have you met Loveth Logan? She's the new maid from Westwood. Her mother is one of the charitable women contributing to building the economy."

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

"How do you see Loveth? Your eldest sister, Isabel, recommended her services to us. She's like a daughter to me and helps me a lot, as I'm already old and cannot work much."

"Come, Loveth." Mrs. Eleanor stopped talking and signaled to Loveth to come. "Loveth, meet my son, Master Patrick Anderson, sole heir to Anderson Corporation."

Loveth walked forward into Patrick's view and bowed her head low again. "It's an honor to meet you, sir," she spoke. But Patrick stood speechless, sinking into deep thinking. 'Was this some sort of temptation or setup by his mother? Her eyes so shining black like a pussycat. Her nose very pointed. Her lips naturally pink without lip gloss. Her long natural blonde hair packed into a ponytail. Her skin looked so flawless, like milk and honey mixed together.' Patrick saw, he took time assessing Loveth's beauty until his mother's words finally snapped him out of his assessment.

"My son, I see you like Loveth. She's also a very good cook, and I cannot help but feel younger and love her the more."

"Hmm..." Patrick's eyes finally narrowed at Loveth, and he replied to his mother, "Fine, mother. Good to see she's taking good care of you. I have to go upstairs now, as I have some important online business meeting to catch up with by 10 p.m., and I need to be ready for it."

Without waiting for his mother's response, Patrick turned and quickly walked away from them. He walked back to the elevator, entered, and went up to the fourth floor.

"Fụck!" Patrick cursed aloud as he stepped out of the elevator and into his sitting room on the fourth floor. The two maids there quickly greeted him, "Good evening, boss. Welcome home."

"Shut up, and get out!" Patrick thundered. Without warning, the two maids quickly ran out and left the fourth-floor sitting room.

Patrick used the fourth floor alone to himself. The third and second floors were used by his elder sisters long before they got married, or whenever they were around.

Patrick threw his black coat and necktie onto the nearest purple couch, dropped his briefcase too, and walked up to his bar in the sitting room to take out an alcoholic wine.

Patrick was angered, and there was nothing else that irritated him more than the thought of ending up marrying a loose woman.

Patrick took out the alcoholic wine bottle and opened it in his hand. He chugged down the wine directly from the bottle's mouth, finishing it in one go. He staggered, feeling the wine's effect on him. He sat back on the black stool closer to the bar top and popped open another wine bottle.

"I hate you, Willow!" Patrick cursed aloud. Just then, he heard his sitting room door slide open.