Chapter 42
When I finished my shift at the fried chicken restaurant, I took a bus to head to the Montenegro mansion. A large metal gate enclosing the grand house welcomed me. I was still wondering how I would carry all my things from this place, but the priority was to get Gulliver out of that cage and bring him with me. As the wrought-iron gates opened, Joffre approached me with a fish tank in his hands. I smiled happily and ran towards him.
"Gulliver!" I looked at him through the glass, and he seemed chubbier.
"You took care of him for me, Joffre, thank you..."
"Don't worry about it. By the way, you don't have the cast anymore."
"That's right..."
"Well, I think you should go inside."
"I'm going to the cabin to pack my things; I don't want to disturb the gentleman."
"Pack your things...? I think you don't understand the situation you're in. Mr. César is waiting for you inside."
"What? Why?"
"Believe me, it's important. Go in."
♡
Fearful, I sat in the living room while Joffre brought tea and cookies as if this were a casual meeting with an old friend. Nervous, I began to think of all the things I might have done wrong for this madman to summon me, and I regretted having spoken so harshly to him. After all, he did pay for the hospital when I broke my arm, and if he wanted compensation...
"Good evening, Miss Belle," I jumped up from the chair like a spring and was mesmerized by his relaxed style—a sweater and loose pants, his hair, always so well-groomed, now more disheveled. I quickly looked away because his beauty was nothing more than a malicious distraction.
"Good evening..."
"May I know why I was summoned here? I was going to pack my things to leave."
"Well, that won’t be possible anymore."
"What? What crazy idea do you have now?"
"Employment contract papers are not an invention," he said, sitting on the sofa with elegance, calmly taking a sip of tea.
"And what does that have to do with my resignation?"
"That you can't resign if you signed up for a fixed-term job. More specifically, one year."
"What? But… can’t it be dissolved?"
"No, that's why it's called a contract. Did you even read it?" He said mockingly.
"Yes… I think so. I'm not very good with long texts. My grandfather taught me to read, but I never went to school."
"Well, now you know. You can't leave until the time stipulated in the contract is fulfilled. And now that your arm has healed, you no longer have a medical exemption. I suggest you start tomorrow. Oh, and don't forget to quit your other job; we need you here full-time."
"And what happens if I break the contract?"
"You'll have to pay a penalty for breach of contract. Do you want me to tell you the amount...? It has many zeros… Zeros that you've never seen in your life and that you couldn't gather even in a million years." I ran my hands through my hair, feeling like I was about to scream a thousand insults at him.
"Fine, now you can decide what to do." He got up, and just as he was about to leave, I blurted out,
"Wait a moment..." He looked at me, and I said,
"I'll be your assistant; that's what we agreed on before… If I have to work to fulfill the contract, it should be doing something valuable for myself too."
"I’ll think about it..."
"What do you mean you’ll think about it?"
"You missed your chance. Now, I feel like making you beg a little for that position." I looked at him angrily, wishing to make his life as miserable as he was making mine. If I became his assistant, I could achieve that—I swore on my life and on Beethoven… that César Montenegro would kneel before me to ask for my forgiveness.
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