Part 2My Cruel Boss Is My Father

In an instant, Sylvia’s eyes welled with tears.

She threw herself into Robert's arms, her voice cracking with performative distress.

"Oh, Rob, thank God you're here! She tried to attack me!"

She held up her wrist, pointing to a faint red mark she must have pinched into her own skin.

"I was just trying to give Lucy some feedback about her performance, telling her to stop slacking off, and she just flew off the handle! She screamed at me and threw hot coffee all over herself just to make me look bad!"

Robert's gaze shifted past Sylvia, landing directly on me.

More specifically, his eyes locked onto the silver ring resting against my collarbone.

When he realized what it was, a visible tremor ran through his entire body.

As if trying to hide his shock, he quickly turned and retreated into his office.

He threw a cold, brief remark over his shoulder:

"I'll handle this."

The way he had looked at me... it was strange. It lingered in my mind, but I was too shaken to dissect it.

Sylvia had a spa appointment, so she grabbed her purse, giving me one last venomous glare before leaving.

"We aren't finished," she whispered.

During the lunch lull, Robert approached my station. He quietly slipped an envelope into my hand.

"Lucy, this is the Employee of the Month bonus. It’s five hundred dollars in cash."

I stared at the envelope. I had only been working here for three months. I was clumsy, broke things, and made mistakes.

How could I possibly deserve Employee of the Month?

I opened my mouth to protest, but Robert gently patted my shoulder.

"You're a good kid. If you ever need anything—any help at all—just ask. I mean it."

His voice was thick with an emotion I couldn't quite place.

But I couldn't bring myself to hand the money back.

Because five hundred dollars was exactly what I needed to keep my mother's dialysis going.

By the afternoon, Sylvia returned and ordered me to haul heavy crates of milk and syrup into the basement storage.

Usually, it took three of the baristas to do this over several hours.

But she forbade anyone from helping me.

"Consider this your punishment for yesterday's little stunt with my husband. You don't leave until it's done."

I hauled the heavy crates for two agonizing hours.

By the end, my lower back felt like it was splitting in two. I hid in the staff bathroom, trying to massage the ache away.

Suddenly, my phone began buzzing frantically.

It was the store’s group chat.

Sylvia had pinned a long, public message:

[Just a reminder to everyone, this cafe is a place of business.]

[Some people have twisted ideas about how to get ahead, thinking they can sleep their way to a promotion.]

[I suggest everyone keep their distance from certain toxic people unless you want to get dragged down with them.]

The other employees instantly chimed in, eager to kiss up to the boss's wife:

[You're so right, Sylvia! Some people have no dignity. It's disgusting.]

[Don't worry, Sylvia. If I see anyone acting shady, I’ll call them out myself!]

[Message received. Keeping my distance starting now.]

At the very end, Sylvia tagged me directly:

[@Lucy, if I ever see you sniffing around my husband again, you’re fired on the spot.]

The digital venom felt like physical needles piercing my skin.

Every second I spent in that shop was becoming a living nightmare.

I was about to wipe my eyes and force myself back to work when my phone rang again. It was the hospital.

The lead physician’s voice was grim.

My mother had taken a sudden turn for the worse. Her kidneys were failing rapidly, and her heart was starting to show signs of strain.

"We need to schedule the surgery immediately, Lucy. We can't wait anymore. If we don't operate this week, I'm afraid she won't make it."

I leaned against the cold bathroom tiles and slowly slid to the floor.

I buried my face in my hands and let out a broken, quiet sob.

I allowed myself exactly five minutes to cry.

Then I wiped my face, swallowed my pride, and went to find Sylvia to ask for a salary advance.

She was lounging in the office chair, legs crossed, casually painting her toenails a vibrant crimson red.

I took a deep, shaky breath, trying to build up the courage.

And then, I spoke.