*James's pov*
Walking toward my car, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Seeing the caller ID, I hesitated before reluctantly picking up.
"What took you so long?!" barked a sharp female voice before I could even say hello.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," I said quickly, my voice trembling. "I got the information a few days back, but my girlfriend came for a visit and wouldn't let me out of the house. I didn't want her to know I work for you... I apologize for my incompetence."
"You don't want her knowing, huh?!" The voice on the other end, Ms. Brown, hissed, dripping with venom. "James, you're truly stupid and clumsy! Do you even realize who you're working for? I have no patience for delays or excuses! If you screw this up, you can kiss your miserable little life and whatever pitiful savings you have goodbye."
The threat sent a shiver down my spine. I knew exactly what she was capable of, losing this job meant more than just unemployment; it meant I could lose my life. She'd loaned my family a hefty sum for my father's heart surgery, and I had no choice but to do whatever she asked.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Brown," I stammered. "Please forgive my manners."
"Enough with the groveling," she snapped. "What have you got for me?"
I cleared my throat and answered carefully, trying not to miss any details. "For the past few days, I've tried to provoke Ms. Scott to get a reaction from her, but she's... she's different. She doesn't yell or threaten me. Instead, every time I upset her, the young master, uh, Stuart, gets upset on her behalf. The other day, I spilled juice on her white suit to test her temper. Instead of getting mad, she forgave me, and Stuart went out of his way to apologize. He even cooked her a variety of dishes and stayed in her office while they ate."
There was a long pause. The silence was heavy, making me sweat. Then, her icy voice cut through. "Is that all?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said meekly.
The line went dead.
I exhaled shakily, dreading the fallout. Somewhere on the other end of the city, Ms. Brown sat at her desk, clenching her fists in fury.
"He dares to bring one of his little sluts into the hotel?!" she muttered under her breath. Her expression darkened, and an evil smile crept onto her lips. "Stuart, you may own it now, but it won't be yours forever. Just wait and see."
******
Three days later, Katelyn arrived at the office in high spirits. She called out to Monica as she set her laptop on the desk. Moments later, Monica knocked gently on her door.
"Ms. Scott?" Monica's voice was soft, almost hesitant.
"Come in," Katelyn called, smiling.
Monica entered with her head slightly bowed. "You called for me, ma'am?"
Katelyn frowned playfully. "Monica, how many times do I have to tell you? I'm not your boss. Call me Ms. Scott, or just Katelyn if that's easier."
Monica flushed. "I'm sorry, Ms. Scott. Force of habit."
"Don't worry about it." Katelyn gestured to a large bag sitting beside her desk. "That bag over there has clothes I don't need anymore. Take them, they're yours."
Monica's eyes widened in shock. "All of them... for me?"
Katelyn nodded with a grin. "Yes, of course. They're in great condition, but I've outgrown them, or they're just not my style anymore. Go on, take a look."
Monica walked hesitantly to the bag and peeked inside. Her jaw dropped. The bag was filled with elegant, high-quality clothes, far more than she could ever afford. "Ms. Scott... these are beautiful! I...I can't accept this. They must have cost a fortune."
"Nonsense," Katelyn replied, waving her hand dismissively. "They're just clothes. Besides, I have plenty more. Think of it as my way of saying thank you for all your hard work."
Monica's eyes shimmered with gratitude. She suddenly dropped to her knees. "Thank you so much! I don't know how to..."
"Monica!" Katelyn exclaimed, quickly pulling her up by the arms. "Don't kneel! There's no need for that."
"But Ms. Scott," Monica stammered, still overwhelmed. "These are so expensive. Who am I to wear the same clothes as you?"
"You're someone who works hard and deserves a little kindness," Katelyn said firmly. "Please, just take them and enjoy them."
Monica nodded shyly, clutching the bag as if it were the most precious thing in the world. She left the office and headed to the small room she used for breaks. Dumping the clothes onto her bed, she began sorting through them.
As she unfolded each piece, her breath caught. Every item was gorgeous—tailored dresses, chic blouses, and even a few suits. But one piece made her pause: a pristine white suit with a faint stain near the hem. Her eyes widened in recognition.
"This is the suit James spilled juice on," she murmured. "Why would Ms. Scott give this away?"
She frowned, debating whether it was a mistake. After a moment, she grabbed the suit and marched back to Katelyn's office.
*******
"Ms. Scott?" Monica knocked on the door again, her voice hesitant.
"Come in," Katelyn called, looking up from her laptop. "Back so soon?"
Monica entered, holding the white suit in her hands. "I think you may have put this in the bag by mistake. It's the one James spilled juice on. I can have it cleaned for you..."
Katelyn waved her off. "It's not a mistake. I don't need it anymore."
"But it's such a beautiful suit!" Monica protested. "It just needs a little cleaning—"
"Monica," Katelyn interrupted, her tone gentle but firm. "I appreciate your concern, but I've already made up my mind. That suit is yours now."
Monica hesitated. "You're too kind, Ms. Scott."
"I'm just practical," Katelyn replied with a chuckle. "No point keeping things I won't use. Besides, I'd rather see someone else enjoy them."
Monica smiled, clutching the suit tightly. "Thank you. Truly."
As Monica left the office, Katelyn leaned back in her chair, her smile fading slightly. Her thoughts drifted to Stuart. He made that suit special by cooking for me that day, she thought. But it's time to move on.
Meanwhile, Monica returned to her room, her heart swelling with admiration. Ms. Scott is nothing like Ms. Mikel, she thought bitterly, recalling Tracy's tantrums and entitled behavior. If she's really with Mr. Brown, I hope he realizes how lucky he is.
Monica folded the suit neatly and placed it on the bed.
********
Later that day, James lingered near the lobby, scrolling nervously through his phone. His mind raced with Ms. Brown's threats. He spotted Monica walking by, the bag of clothes in her hand, and frowned. What's her deal? He wondered.
"Monica," he called out, forcing a smile.
She paused, looking wary. "What is it, James?"
"I couldn't help but notice Ms. Scott gave you something," he said casually. "You must be her favorite."
Monica raised an eyebrow. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, James. And maybe if you treated her with respect, she wouldn't have to clean up your messes."
His face darkened, but he forced a chuckle. "Right. Just lucky, I guess."
As Monica walked away, James's phone buzzed. He glanced down, his stomach sinking at the name on the screen. Ms. Brown.
He swallowed hard and stepped outside to take the call.