"Who do you think you are, just barging in here and having my salon shut down on a whim? Aren't you afraid I'll call the police on you?" Rebecca snapped, clutching Maxwell's phone tightly in her hand.
Maxwell leaned casually against the nearby chair utterly unfazed. "This is the tenth time you've threatened to call the police since I walked in. Isn't it taking you a little too long to dial, hmm?" he drawled with infuriating calm.
"I suspect you won't make that call because, deep down, you know not even they could save you from me."
His words cut deep, not because they weren't true, but because his smug tone and confident smirk pushed her buttons in ways she couldn't express.
Rebecca seethed silently, unable to challenge his dominance outright. There was nothing she could do except swallow her pride and endure the presence of this infuriating lunatic.
Instead of wrestling his phone back, Maxwell moved toward the brown table where a row of neat white lunchboxes sat. He pulled out a chair and motioned for her to join him.
"This is why you should have complied when I still acted like a gentleman," he muttered under his breath. Watching her approach reluctantly, like a wounded puppy, made him chuckle.
Rebecca sat down with visible defeat as Maxwell began unpacking the lunchboxes one by one. He hummed a cheerful tune, his favorite, no doubt, as he set the table with an ease that seemed beneath someone of his stature.
She watched him with thinly veiled loathing. How she wished she could toss a napkin over his smug face and gag him to silence the humming. But she couldn't. So instead, she forced herself to eat with him, if only to keep the peace.
When the rest of the staff returned from lunch, coffee and dessert were already waiting for them, courtesy of Maxwell. While they relished the unexpected treat, Daisy, one of the junior stylists, pulled Rebecca aside, unable to hide her curiosity.
"Who is that handsome dish?" Daisy whispered with a mischievous smile, eyes flicking toward Maxwell who was standing by the glass doors, deep in a phone call. "Has he joined your list of admirers?"
Rebecca's jaw clenched. Her blood boiled, but she restrained herself. She knew saying the wrong thing now might lead to regret. Instead, she turned sharply, fists clenched.
"Why are you so quiet, Miss Rebecca?" Daisy nudged her playfully, clearly unaware of the storm brewing inside of her. She momentarily forgot she was speaking to her boss and not just another stylist. "Out of all your admirers, I have to say, this one is the most handsome."
Daisy sighed wistfully. "Just look at those long sexy legs. And the outfit? He reeks of wealth. Are you seriously going to let this one slip away?"
Rebecca's silence cracked. "Not all that glitters is gold. Haven't you heard that saying before?" she said sharply.
Daisy blinked. "What are you talking about?"
"Some gold may sparkle, so brightly it blinds you. But after wasting millions to buy it, you take a closer look and realize it's nothing but a painted stone meant to deceive."
"Wait... what are you implying?" Daisy asked, bewildered. "What's that got to do with what we are discussing?"
"I'm saying," Rebecca snapped, "be careful what kind of fish you're eyeing. It might be a poisonous one that ends your existence." With that, she walked off, leaving Daisy standing confused and slightly embarrassed.
"What's wrong with Miss Rebecca?" Daisy mumbled to herself. "Is she out of her mind or something?"
Minutes later, she drifted toward Joey, who was setting up the hair station for the next client.
"Joey, what do you think about that man? Isn't he like... otherworldly?" Daisy stretched her arms dramatically.
Joey glanced at Maxwell and shrugged. "He's handsome, sure. I feel like I've seen him somewhere before, but I can't quite place it."
"This is my first time seeing a face like that. Are you sure you've seen him before?" Daisy asked, narrowing her eyes at her colleague.
Joey frowned, stepping back. "What's that look for? You think I'm lying?"
"Just wondering," Daisy said defensively. "But if you do remember, let me be the first to know."
"Ugh. I can't believe you're accusing me of lying," Joey muttered and walked away in irritation.
As the hours dragged on, Rebecca's demeanor shifted. Her usual focus vanished, replaced by distraction and restlessness. She began making uncharacteristic mistakes, not even the newest hire would make. And this did not slip away from the notice of her staff.
Thirty minutes before closing, she stood behind a client, trimming scissors in hand, but her eyes were locked on the wall clock.
Am I really not going home again tonight? I have never let him sleep alone before. I wonder how my poor son is coping? Is he hugging his toys, constantly staring at the door, hoping I would walk in with a smile?
Rebecca's thoughts swirled like a storm.
"Miss Rebecca!" Diamond, the senior stylist, shouted. She had just caught sight of Rebecca about to snip off a large portion of hair, completely out of place.
"Oh no. She's going to ruin that client's look!" Diamond gasped. She sprinted over and snatched the scissors from Rebecca's hand.
"W-what…?" Rebecca blinked, startled.
"Take over. Now," Diamond barked at Daisy, handing her the scissors. Then she pulled Rebecca toward the locker room.
Once inside, she turned sharply. "What was that just now? Were you trying to make the client bald? Do you realize how serious that would've been if I didn't step in?"
She stopped herself, inhaling deeply to rein in her emotions. Despite everything, Rebecca had been nothing but kind, even treating the staff like equals, not subordinates.
"Miss Rebecca, I've seen you warn Tyler and the others about focus. You're not one to make mistakes like that. What's going on?" Diamond asked, voice gentler now. Her eyes searched Rebecca's face with concern.
"Did something happen to our little prince? Did the test results come back bad?"
"You shouldn't have come in today. I can handle things here. Go be with him," Diamond offered to help out in her own little way.
"I just got carried away. I'm fine now," Rebecca said, forcing a weak smile.
Diamond saw through it instantly. "You don't have to pretend."
"The client's probably upset. We should go apologize," Rebecca cut in, turning on her heel before Diamond could press further.
As she had feared, she couldn't go home again that night. To avoid raising suspicion, she stopped by a boutique to pick up fresh clothes.
Maxwell, who had been keeping his distance, moved closer when he noticed her hesitating before a rack of dresses.
"How about this peach one?" he suggested, pointing to a neat, knee-length shirt dress. "I remember how incredible you looked the first time you wore that color."
Rebecca didn't even glance his way. Instead, she walked off to another section as if he hadn't spoken.
Maxwell followed with a lazy smirk. "You're trying so hard to hide that you slept at the salon again. Why not just go home, get some real rest, and come back fresh?"
Then, lowering his voice, he added, "You know, the more effort you put into hiding what's in that house, the more I want to see it for myself."
Rebecca's hands curled into fists, but she kept walking, pretending his words didn't affect her. But they did.
She tried to slip away from the boutique twice, but Maxwell was always one step ahead, too impossible to shake off.
Later that night, her phone rang. It was Timberlake. He spoke at length, filling her in on everything that had happened at the hospital. Rebecca barely responded, too weighed down by guilt.
She yearned to hear her son's voice, but when Timberlake offered to pass the phone to Jeremy, Maxwell lunged at her, trying to grab her phone.
She ended the call abruptly.
"Who was that on the line?" Maxwell demanded, eyes darkening. "Was that the infamous Jerry, your boy…"
He stopped himself. He had almost gone too far.
Rebecca moved as if to leave but froze when she saw the way Maxwell's fists clenched at his sides. A wicked idea struck her. She sat back down, crossing her legs slowly, her gaze challenging.
"Why'd you stop halfway?" she asked mockingly. "Aren't you curious who I was talking to?"
"I could tell you, if you really want to know. He is~"
"Don't you dare say his name," Maxwell cut in, his voice turning to ice. "And don't tell me how he's related to you."