Chapter 3: Stolen Moments, Hidden Truths

The next morning at 9:30, the assistant called me into the CEO’s office.

My stomach twisted, half expecting a pink slip. I wiped my hands on my jeans and tried to look harmless. Here we go.

As soon as I walked in, I bent over apologizing, “I’ll sweep again, I’ll sweep again, okay?”

My voice came out shaky, half-joking, half-pleading.

“No,” Mr. Carter said coolly, “look up.”

He sounded like he was delivering a verdict in court. I straightened, bracing myself. Yikes—what now?

I looked up and locked eyes with him in an epic stare-down.

His gaze was intense, searching—like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t know existed. My heart skipped.

He looked a little dazed.

Maybe my eyes look too much like Mom’s. Did he see it? Or was it just my nerves?

“You...” Mr. Carter hesitated, then said, “Sit.”

Alright, Dad.

I perched on the edge of the chair, trying to look casual but failing miserably. My palms were sweaty.

He tapped the jewelry box on the desk with his finger. “The security footage shows you put this here. Who told you to do it?”

The box gleamed under the fluorescent lights, and I swallowed, trying not to look guilty. Busted.

“A lady named Monroe. She said she used to work here but already quit. She asked me to bring this up to you.”

I kept my voice even, hoping he wouldn’t catch the tremor.

“When did she come by?”

“Eight this morning.”

“Did she say anything else?”

I shook my head, confused. “No.”

Actually, Miss Monroe came and went so fast I barely saw her face.

I swear, she could give Houdini a run for his money.

Mr. Carter slumped back in his chair, defeated.

He looked like he’d just lost his last hope, shoulders sagging, eyes distant. Poor guy.

I couldn’t help saying, “Mr. Carter, chasing your girlfriend with meltdowns and theatrics isn’t sincere.”

Oops. Probably not supposed to say that. My words tumbled out before I could stop them, maybe too blunt for an employee.

He stared at me silently for a while. “What do you mean?”

His tone was measured, but there was a flicker of curiosity.

“If she doesn’t want to see you right now, don’t chase so hard. All this investigating and blocking her in will just make her more rebellious.”

I tried to sound wise, like someone who’d read too many advice columns.

Mr. Carter asked, “Why shouldn’t I look for her?”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t, but giving her ten days or two weeks to cool off won’t make her bolt into someone else’s arms.”

I leaned in, hoping he’d actually listen.

He thought about it. “What’s your name?”

Hey, a girl can dream. I felt a little thrill—maybe a raise was coming. “Lily Carter.”

I tried to say it with confidence, hoping he’d see me as more than just the cleaning girl.

“You know too much,” he said, his piercing eyes locked on me. “You’re fired.”

Uh, harsh.

I blinked, caught between disbelief and amusement. Fired for being too clever—classic Carter.

“Unless next time you see her, you notify me immediately.”

Ha. Playing that card.

He wasn’t above bribing the help when it suited him. Gotta respect the hustle.

That afternoon, after lunch, I sat by the fountain in front of the company, wondering how much water this thing used every day, and whether I could get rid of it when I took over.

The spray sparkled in the sunlight, and I made a mental note: no more pointless fountains in my future empire. Priorities.

Someone tapped my shoulder.

Wait, is that... Mom? I turned around.

I’d seen photos of my mom when she was young—long legs, slim waist, fair skin, a total knockout.

But seeing her in person, I felt like something hit me right in the chest.

A small, delicate face, bright, shining eyes, softly curled hair with a few red highlights—stunning.

She looked like she’d just stepped out of a Vogue cover shoot, but her smile was warm, not icy.

“Did you give him the thing?” she asked.

I nodded dumbly.

She smiled and thanked me, then walked briskly away.

Her stride was confident, but there was a sadness in her eyes—a kind of quiet strength that made me want to run after her and tell her everything would be okay.

As she left, I suddenly wanted to run after her.

Ugh, Mom is so beautiful. I want to hug Mom. Didn’t get to. Story of my life. Seriously, why am I like this?

But this time, I didn’t tell Mr. Carter.

I figured he needed to learn to wait, to let her come back on her own terms.

Based on today, if I were the matchmaker, I wouldn’t be eager to introduce Miss Monroe to Mr. Carter.

Patience, Dad. Seriously. He had a lot to learn about patience—and about love.

As for tomorrow—depends on my mood. Maybe I’ll play matchmaker, maybe I’ll just drink more coffee. We’ll see.

I smiled to myself, letting the day decide.