Was Derek blind? This man was the one leaning on me!

I was on the verge of tears. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Derek said, "I hate to ask, but could you help get him into the car and drive him home? Do you know how to drive?"

"Yeah, I can manage."

I was still skeptical. "You two aren't pranking me, are you? Why would I be the only one who can get close to him? What about his parents?"

Derek said, "His parents passed away years ago. His grandfather is his only family, but even he can't get near him when he's drunk."

This was absolutely insane.

I had to summon every ounce of strength I had to haul the six-foot-tall man into the car, then drive him home myself.

Afterward, Derek added me on Messenger, saying he might need me again in the future.

[Get lost! Not happening.]

Then, Derek transferred me $5,000.

I immediately broke into a smile.

[Of course. Anytime you need! Don't hesitate to call, but it'll be this rate every time.]

Two weeks later, late one evening, Derek suddenly transferred me $5,000.

"Ms. Rivera, there’s an emergency situation. I need your help. Sending you the location now.”

I followed the location to the most luxurious club in the city.

When I pushed open the private room door, I found several bigwigs I had only ever seen on television sprawled across the floor.

Soon after, ambulances arrived and whisked them all away to the hospital in a flurry.

The only person left in the room was Jackson, leaning against a wall in the corner, knife in hand. He was drunk but hyper-aware of his surroundings.

Honestly, with his bloodshot eyes and that murderous aura radiating off him, I was too terrified to get close.

My legs trembled as I quickly refunded the money.

[I can't do this. This is too much!]

Derek immediately sent me $50,000. [I get it. Different job, different rate. You need more, right?]

I really had not meant it that way. But it was $50,000! I was just an underpaid office worker. How could I resist that kind of money?

I walked right up to Jackson, all sweet and innocent.

I carefully tapped his shoulder. "Don't kill me. Put the knife down, okay?"

I genuinely did not expect him to actually listen. Jackson stared at me through bleary, drunken eyes for a long moment, then put the knife away.

The next second, his body swayed, and he collapsed straight into my arms.

Oh my God! He was so heavy. I lost my balance, and we both went crashing to the floor.

Fortunately, just before we hit the ground, he twisted around and cushioned my fall with his own body. I landed hard on top of him.

…

Outside the car, Derek was chattering away to Jackson about something, showing him videos on his phone.

It looked like footage from the previous times I had helped out.

I cracked the window open slightly and caught Derek saying, "Sir, that's the situation. I wasn't trying to hide it from you. I just haven't been able to figure out any past connection between you and Ms. Rivera. Why would you trust her so completely when you're at your most vulnerable and defensive? I was planning to report this to you once I had more answers."

Eventually, Jackson opened the car door and climbed inside. I immediately pretended I had not been eavesdropping and buried myself in my phone.

Truth be told, over these past few months, I had racked my brain trying to remember if Jackson and I had ever crossed paths before.

I drew a complete blank. He was one of the city's golden boys, born into a prestigious family with a fortune worth hundreds of millions.

Meanwhile, I was someone who grew up in a small town, went to college, and ended up working in the big city. It would be truly bizarre if the two of us somehow had a life-or-death connection.

Seeing Jackson's dark expression and sullen mood, I wanted to bolt.

"Heh. Well, Mr. Channing, if there's nothing else, I'll be going now. Bye! No need to see me out."

I reached for the door handle, but Jackson was faster, grabbing my arm. "Until we figure this out, you're staying close to me."

"Why? Won't your girlfriend mind?"

"I don't have..." Jackson stopped mid-sentence and changed course. "She's abroad."

"I get it. The one who got away is overseas. What a classic trope."

A thought struck me. "Do I look like her? Wait, do I resemble your lost love, so you mistake me for her when you're drunk? Is that why you let me close?

"That makes sense. I knew there had to be some explanation. We couldn't possibly have any real connection. What a relief!"

Jackson's face darkened. "Shut up. You don't look like her."

He added, "And she can't get near me either."

"Huh? You mean when you're drunk, even she can't get close to you? What kind of lost love is that? That's not true devotion."

Jackson's expression soured further, his eyes filled with disdain. "Why do you talk so much?"

I waved my hand dismissively. "I can't help it. I was born chatty."

Derek, who had climbed into the driver's seat, laughed at my comment.

Jackson did not even crack a smile. Instead, he told Derek, "Pay her to shut up."

Ding!

Derek transferred me $10,000.

Fine. I immediately made a zipping motion across my lips.

Rule number one in my book was to keep the client satisfied. It was basic professional courtesy.

However, moving into his mansion was absolutely out of the question.

When the car stopped in the driveway, I crossed my arms immediately. "I'm not sleeping with you. I don't care how much you pay. We Gen Z girls have principles when it comes to making money."

After getting out of the car, Jackson shot me the most disdainful look imaginable. "In your dreams!

"You'll stay in the guest room. Consider yourself hired help. Your job is to take care of me when I'm drunk."

And just like that, I moved into the powerful CEO's guest room against my will, with no room for negotiation.

Jackson, this tyrannical drunk, had forced me to become his personal babysitter. If not for the daily $10,000 transfer, I would never have agreed.

…

Every day, I silently prayed for Jackson's lost love to return from abroad.

Once she came back, I would finally regain my freedom, right?

After all, what woman would tolerate another woman as attractive as me living in her boyfriend's house as a maid?

Rumors were already spreading that Jackson was keeping a mistress, that he had taken in a girl for the first time ever. Whenever he had a few drinks, he would call her to pick him up.

People talked as if I held some special place in Jackson's heart.

Little did they know I spent my days slaving away for capitalists and my nights serving as a CEO's maid. ‘Exhausting’ did not even begin to cover it.

Just when my resentment had reached its boiling point, his lost love finally returned from overseas.

When she rushed to the mansion and saw me lounging on the living room sofa, eating expensive imported fruit, she looked like she had seen a ghost.

I sat there with my legs crossed, waiting for her to find me offensive and kick me out. Instead, she...