CHAPTER 5
1321 Words
Because Daphne said that Mr. Fishy—ugh, I mean, Mr. Fabian, the ever-so-grumpy CEO—was about to arrive, of course, I couldn’t afford to look like a wilted vegetable. I was already drenched in sweat, and to top it all off, I had just performed an Olympic-level super slide across the wet floor, thanks to my dear frenemy, Daphne.
Now, here I was, speed-changing inside the janitor’s closet while Daphne stood guard outside. Obviously, I wouldn’t let him come in with me. What does he think this is? A free show? He wishes.
Wait—hold up. Why was I even changing? It’s not like I smelled bad! Even when I was drenched in sweat, I still smelled better than half of the people in this company. Fresh? Maybe not all the time. But scented? Always.
"Hurry up there, Witch!" Daphne shouted, his voice practically vibrating with l***q+ pride. The sass in his tone was enough to make the entire hallway hear. "I swear, you take longer than a bride getting ready for her wedding!"
I rolled my eyes as I struggled to pull my shirt over my head. "Hold your horses, Your Royal Highness of the Overly Moisturized Elbows! You act like you have somewhere important to be!"
"Excuse me?!" Daphne huffed. "I'm outside standing guard for your crusty ass! And for what?! I feel like your unpaid bodyguard! Do you think I enjoy this?"
"You should be honored, actually!" I fired back, finally pulling my shirt down and fixing my hair. "Not everyone gets to be this close to greatness!"
Daphne scoffed. "Greatness my ass! If I had to spend another second outside this closet, I might die of secondhand embarrassment just from the thought of being associated with you."
I smirked to myself as I grabbed a fresh towel to wipe off the remaining sweat on my forehead. "Oh please, Daphne. Even if I were the last person on earth, you still wouldn’t be worthy of seeing my precious body."
"Yuck! As if I would want to see that!" he shrieked in horror. "Girl, even if we were Adam and Eve in a post-apocalyptic world, I’d rather kiss a cactus than look at your crusty, hardworking peasant thighs!"
I gasped dramatically as I opened the door and looked after him. "How dare you! My thighs are the epitome of strength and endurance! You should be honored to even breathe the same air as them!"
Daphne cackled, clearly enjoying our banter. "Oh, pak! No matter what you do, you still look like a glorified maid!"
I placed my hands on my hips, flipping my hair dramatically. "At least I smell good, like I possess the divine freshness overload!"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Miss Always Fresh," Daphne snorted, rolling his eyes like I was some lost cause. "I wonder if you use your cologne as perfume or as a food seasoning!"
I glared at him. "You're just jealous because even in the face of potential termination, I still smell divine."
Daphne dramatically flipped his imaginary long hair. "Please, honey, even if you bathed in a tab full of cherry blossoms, it wouldn’t erase the fact that you’re about to meet your doom."
“Heh!”
I took a deep breath and stepped out of the janitor’s closet, straightening my posture. Even if I was just a janitor, I’d walk like I owned the damn place. If life wouldn’t hand me luxury, I’d fake it till I made it.
With my chin up and my confidence back in place, I strutted down the hallway like it was my personal runway.
But the reality check hit me like a truck when I glanced at the clock. 4:30 PM.
Thirty minutes before my shift ended.
Which meant… there was still time for Mr. Fishy to ruin my life.
Crap.
I suddenly remembered my very public fight with Beatrice earlier—the same Beatrice who had coffee-baptized me and pretended to be the victim. If she got to Mr. Fishy before I did, my ass was probably already halfway out the door.
No wonder my knees were shaking as I walked toward the main office.
"I-I think we better head back to closet, Daphne?" I whispered, grabbing his arm. "I feel like my legs are about to give out."
But my traitor of a best friend? He just cackled like some evil villain. "No way! You have to face Mr. Fabian! The CEO of MCC! The man of the hour! The king of housing services! The—"
I slapped a hand over his mouth. "Shut up before you summon him!"
Daphne wiggled free, grinning. "What? Are you scared?"
I deadpanned. "Scared? Me? No."
He raised a brow.
I sighed. "Okay, fine. Maybe a little."
He snorted. "Maurice, stop being dramatic. It’s just one rich, grumpy CEO."
"Just one rich, grumpy CEO?!" I whisper-yelled. "Daphne, that man signs my paychecks!"
"Not for long," he muttered under his breath.
I gasped. "Traitor!"
But before I could threaten to mop his unmoisturized face, a familiar deep voice rang through the hallway.
"Miss Miranda."
And just like that—my soul left my body.
I turned around stiffly, already knowing who it was before I even saw him.
Mr. Fabian Isidore.
Standing in all his CEO glory.
His tailored suit was crisp, his posture radiated authority, and his cold gaze was fixated right on me.
Dear universe, if you love me, strike me down now.
Daphne, the traitor, instantly straightened up and actually adjusted his imaginary wig like he was in front of royalty.
Meanwhile, I just stood there, looking like a deer caught in the headlights of an incoming Mercedes-Benz.
Mr. Fishy—er, Mr. Fabian—folded his arms across his chest, looking every bit like a strict professor about to give me a failing grade. His dark eyes were sharp, unwavering, and full of judgment.
"Inside. Now."
And just like that, I knew…
I was officially doomed.
But before following him inside the office, I had more important matters to take care of.
Like strangling my best friend.
I whirled around and smacked Daphne’s arm. "You traitor! If I lose my job, this is all your fault!"
Daphne gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like I had just stabbed him. "Excuse me?! I'm your friend, yes, but I wanted to see Mr. Fabian, like ugh, so better luck next time.” He exclamaed. “And– ah–ah, I told you to behave, but noooo, you had to go and declare war against Beatrice!"
I scowled. "She deserved it! That witch poured coffee on my head!"
"But you were the one who turned the office into an action movie set!"
I huffed, crossing my arms. "It was called self-defense!"
Daphne rolled his eyes. "Self-defense? Girl, you almost took her wig off!"
"Too bad she wasn't actually wearing one," I muttered, making him snort.
But before I could come up with a truly devastating comeback, Mr. Fishy cleared his throat loudly.
I froze.
Right.
He was still here. Watching. Judging.
I turned my head ever so slowly, only to find him still standing there, expression blank but clearly unamused.
His eyes flicked between me and Daphne like he was witnessing two idiots fighting over something completely irrelevant.
"Are you done?" he asked, voice calm yet absolutely terrifying.
I gulped. "Uh… yeah. I was just… warming up my vocal cords."
Daphne coughed to hide his laughter.
Mr. Fabian didn’t react. He just turned and walked towards his office, clearly expecting me to follow.
And because I valued my life and, okay, my paycheck, I sighed and trailed behind him, hoping he wouldn't fire me.
Daphne whispered, "Good luck, babe. If you survive, let’s have a tea after."
"How about if I don’t survive?"
"Then I’ll bring milk tea to your funeral. Extra pearls."
I groaned and stepped inside the office, preparing for my inevitable execution.
- Writer
