MR. GRUMPY [THAT COLD-HEARTED CEO]

CHAPTER 7

“Are you out of your mind, Maurice?” Daphne practically screeched, eyes wide like I had just announced I was moving to Mars. “What on earth possessed you to think that Sir Leland would hire you as his personal secretary?! GHAD!”

I crossed my arms and huffed. “Why not? If Mr. Fishy doesn’t want me, maybe his assistant CEO will. I mean, come on, I’m gorgeous, I’m sexy, and most of all, I always smell amazing!”

Daphne looked at me like I had just claimed to be the queen of England. “Bes, you are absolutely delusional.”

I dramatically flipped my hair. “No, I’m confident.”

“No, you’re crazy!” Daphne clapped his hands together in frustration. “As in, full-blown, high-level, straight-out-of-a-telenovela crazy!”

I rolled my eyes. “Can you blame me? I need a job. I have rent to pay, my brother’s medications to buy, and, excuse me, I refuse to downgrade my lifestyle from poor but fresh to poor and questionable-smelling!”

Daphne scoffed. “Oh please, stop acting like the world is ending. For all you know, this could be fate’s way of setting you up with a hot Australian billionaire! Just imagine—Maurice Miranda, the future wife of a blue-eyed, six-foot-tall, money-spitting foreigner!”

“Che!” I smacked his arm. “You’re the one obsessed with Australians, not me! And besides, even if you were the last person on earth, not even a hippopotamus would date you!”

Daphne gasped dramatically. “How dare you insult my nonexistent love life?!”

Ignoring his theatrics, I flopped onto his chest and let out another exaggerated sob again.

"Daphne, my life is ruined!” I wailed, soaking his uniform with my expensive tears.

Mr. Fabian Isidore, that heartless, grumpy CEO, had actually fired me. I had dedicated my blood, tears, and fresh-smelling sweats to this company, and what did I get? Tossed out like yesterday’s leftovers. It was unbelievable!

My mind spiraled into the dark, depressing thoughts I had been avoiding.

What about the rent?

What about Mico’s medication?

What about my future?!

I clenched my fists. This wasn’t just about pride—I needed this job. If I didn’t find a solution soon, we were going to be in serious trouble.

Daphne sighed, patting my back like I was a child throwing a tantrum. “Bes, let’s just get your stuff from the closet and go. I’ll treat you to some milk tea or whatever it is that’ll make you stop ugly crying on me.”

I sniffled. “Fine.”

We headed to the janitor’s closet, where I started gathering my things. My uniform, my cleaning supplies, and my emergency perfume stash because freshness was a necessity.

But as I was about to zip my bag, a wicked idea slithered into my brain.

My head snapped up. “Daphne.”

Daphne paused, mid-text, and looked at me. “What?”

I grinned, the kind of grin that usually meant I was about to make a very bad decision.

“I refuse to go down like this.”

Daphne’s eyes widened. “Oh no.”

“I’m going to get revenge on Beatrice.”

“Oh HELL NO!” Daphne nearly dropped his phone. “Bes, are you insane?! You just got fired—what else do you have left to lose?!”

“That’s exactly the point!” I threw my hands in the air. “I’m already fired! So even if I start a full-blown scandal, it won’t make a difference!”

Daphne grabbed my shoulders, shaking me slightly. “Maurice, listen to me! You do NOT need a criminal record on top of your unemployment status!”

I smirked. “Relax, I’m not going to kill her. I’m just going to… teach her a lesson.”

Daphne groaned, looking up at the ceiling like he was asking the heavens why he was cursed with a best friend like me. “This is going to end horribly.”

I slang my bag over my shoulder, determination burning in my veins.

Beatrice was about to get a taste of karma, Maurice Miranda-style.

I stormed through the hallways of MCC, my footsteps booming against the marble floor. My blood was boiling, my fists clenched so tight that my nails were practically digging into my palms.

Daphne, my ever-dramatic best friend, trailed behind me, waving his hands like a panicked mother trying to stop her toddler from running into traffic.

"MAURICE! MAURICE, WAIT! STOP THIS MADNESS, GIRL!" he shrieked.

Did I listen?

Of course not.

"GET OUT OF MY WAY, DAPHNE!" I yelled, pushing past employees who were smart enough to scatter at the sight of my rage-filled rampage.

Daphne, being the persistent cockroach that he was, grabbed my arm in one last desperate attempt. "FRENEMY, PLEASE! DON’T RUIN YOUR LIFE OVER THAT DEMONIC SECRETARY!"

"TOO LATE, BES!" I snapped, shoving him aside as I reached my destination—

Beatrice’s desk.

There she was, the witch herself, sitting pretty like the Queen of Hell, typing away like she hadn’t just ruined my entire life.

I saw red.

"YOU!" I shrieked, marching straight to her table.

Beatrice looked up, her perfectly groomed eyebrows raising in mock surprise. "Oh, look who’s still loitering in MCC. I thought you were fired?"

That was it.

That was the final straw.

I didn’t even think—I just launched.

With the speed of a hormonal, enraged bull, I reached across her desk, grabbed a fistful of her overpriced, salon-treated hair, and yanked.

"YOU SNAKE!" I screeched as I pulled her head forward, nearly making her face-plant on her own keyboard.

"AAAAAHHHH! MAURICE, YOU PSYCHO!" Beatrice screamed, flailing her arms as if she was drowning.

Employees gasped. Someone dropped their coffee. Papers flew.

And then—

"MAYDAY, MAYDAY, OFFICE SCANDAL ALERT!" Daphne screeched like an emergency siren, phone already out, recording the chaos like the loyal, ever chismosa best friend he was.

"SECURITY!" Beatrice wailed, desperately trying to pry my fingers from her hair. "SOMEBODY STOP THIS CRAZY WOMAN!"

Oh, now she wanted help? Where was her mercy when she got me fired, huh?!

"I WILL END YOU, WITCH!" I screamed, violently shaking her head like how a tornado does.

"MAURICE!"

That voice.

That deep, sharp, terrifying voice.

I froze.

Slowly, like a horror movie villain caught in the act, I turned my head.

And there he was.

Mr. Fishy.

Fabian freaking Isidore.

The CEO. The most powerful man in MCC.

Standing there like a Greek god of doom—arms crossed, jaw clenched, eyes burning a hole through my soul. His expression was a deadly mix of anger and disbelief, like he just caught someone setting his million-dollar office on fire.

And next to him?

Sir Leland. The Assistant CEO. The supposed rational one. The one who, for some reason, looked way too entertained for someone witnessing a workplace crime. The man was barely holding in his smirk, eyes flicking between me and Mr. Grumpy CEO like he was watching the juiciest drama unfold.

And behind them?

Oh boy.

Half the MCC employees, all gathered like they were in some kind of corporate Hunger Games, watching, recording, and whispering. Some had their phones out, and I just knew this was already trending in the company group chat.

Oh.

Oh no.

Maybe I should have thought this through.

But nope. Instead, here I was—fingers still tangled in Beatrice’s fake, overly-conditioned hair, my entire body trembling. Whether from anger or embarrassment, I couldn’t even tell anymore.

And then—

"STOP THIS ALREADY, MAURICE!"

Fabian’s voice thundered through the office, making me jump. The room vibrated with his authority, and for a second, I actually considered running for my life.

But nope. Not today.

I turned to him, my breathing heavy, my heart pounding like a damn drum. If he thought I was going to cower and say sorry, then he clearly didn't know me well enough.

I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin, and—

"Hey! Mr. Fishy! I mean—Mr. Grumpy CEO! I—I mean, Mr. Fabian!” I yelled, pointing a dramatic finger at him.

Sir Leland groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose like he was getting secondhand embarrassment. And honestly? Fair enough. I just called the most powerful man in the company Fishy and Grumpy in front of the entire MCC staff. It takes guts, you know.

Fabian’s eyes narrowed into death slits. "What did you just call me?" His voice was so cold, I swear the room temperature dropped.

But did I back down?

Nope.

I took a deep breath and pushed forward. "You heard me, Mr. Fishy! Do you even know why I’m mad?! Because you were unfair to me!"

His brows furrowed, but I didn’t give him a chance to interrupt.

"Just because I caused a little scandal doesn’t mean I started it! I was defending myself from this—this office witch!” I flung my arms toward Beatrice, who was still sitting on the floor, fixing her tragically ruined hair extensions while gasping in fake offense.

“I worked hard, okay?! I was loyal! I did my job well! But instead of listening to my side, you just fired me like I was some disposable piece of trash!” My voice cracked at the end, and for a second, I hated myself for it. I didn’t want to sound weak, but damn it, this hurt.

Fabian’s jaw twitched. His eyes darkened, his entire aura radiating absolute authority. "And what part of your job description says pulling my secretary’s hair is acceptable?" His voice was dangerously low.

I opened my mouth, then closed it.

…Well.

But still!

I clenched my fists, standing my ground. "I had to defend myself! She’s been treating me like dirt for weeks, and no one ever does anything about it!"

"You’re acting like a child, Maurice." His tone was final, like he wasn’t even considering my words. "If you had a problem with Beatrice, you should’ve gone through the proper channels. But instead, you caused this." He gestured toward the entire mess—the employees still watching, the chaotic state of the office, and Beatrice, who was still dramatically touching her scalp like she had just survived a war.

Then, without hesitation, he delivered the final blow:

"Someone like you, Maurice Miranda, has no place inside this company."

Silence.

Ouch.

A heavy weight settled in my chest.

It wasn’t just being fired—it was the way he said it. Like I was nothing. Like all my work, all my effort, meant nothing.

I blinked rapidly, refusing to let tears fall. No way was I crying in front of these people.

Daphne suddenly grabbed my wrist, whispering, "Bes, let’s go." His usual sass was gone, replaced by a rare moment of genuine concern.

But I wasn’t done yet.

I turned back to Fabian, ignoring the tightness in my throat. "You know what, Mr. Fishy? You may own this company, but you don't own me.”

I took a step back, then another, my voice strong despite everything. "You think you’re so powerful because you can fire people like it’s nothing. But one day, you’re going to regret this. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow—but one day, you’ll realize that you let go of someone who actually gave a damn care about this company!"

Fabian’s expression didn’t change. He just stood there, emotionless. Cold.

Sir Leland, on the other hand?

He looked impressed.

Daphne pulled me back harder. "Let’s go before he actually calls security, bes."

With one last glare at Fabian, I turned on my heel, grabbed my bag, and stormed out of MCC.