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...