After carefully packing his lunch, I made my way to the driveway where Adam's car was parked. I approached the driver, a stern-looking man who barely glanced at me as I approached. "Excuse me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I need to deliver Mr. Adam's lunch to his office. Could you please drive me there?"
The driver looked at me with a mixture of disdain and confusion. "Why would I drive a maid to Mr. Adam's office? You're not supposed to be using his car," he said dismissively.
"But I'm his—" I began to explain, but he cut me off.
"I don't care what you are. Mr. Adam didn't give me any instructions about you using the car. Now move along, I have work to do." He turned away, effectively ending the conversation.
Frustration bubbled up inside me, but I bit my lip an
