Part 3My Cruel Boss Is My Father

"Sylvia, is there any way I could get an advance on my salary? Just a few months. My mom’s condition worsened, and she needs emergency surgery..."

Sylvia blew on her wet toenails, not even bothering to look up. She let out a sharp scoff.

"Are you daydreaming? First you try to steal my husband, and now you’re trying to steal my money?"

I bowed my head, my voice cracking with desperation.

"I’m not joking. My mother is in the ICU. She needs this surgery to survive."

"If you can help me with the advance, I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll work overtime for free, I’ll sign a contract—I’ll work the next three years without pay if I have to!"

"Why the hell should I care about your mother?"

She rolled eyes and stood up to leave.

Desperate, I stepped into her path, blocking her way.

"Please. I’m begging you..."

"Get out of my face!"

She swung her hand wildly.

The heavy glass bottle of nail polish slipped from her grip and struck me hard across the forehead.

A warm, thin trickle of blood immediately began to slide down my temple.

She sat back down, crossing her arms, her smile dripping with malice.

"Your mother's life has nothing to do with me. Shouldn't you be begging your father for the cash?"

"Oh, that’s right. I forgot. You don't have a father. Your mother chose to raise a bastard child, and now you're just following in her footsteps."

"Otherwise, why would your father leave your mother to rot while you're out here selling yourself to other women's husbands?"

The blood in my veins ran hot, rushing straight to my ears.

I stared at her, my eyes burning with a raw, painful fury.

"That is enough. That is the second time you've insulted my mother."

She stood up slowly, stepping into my personal space until we were nose-to-nose.

"You dare glare at me? I could fire you right now and leave you with absolutely nothing."

She spat her words in my face.

"The nerve of you, asking me for money after trying to sleep with my husband. One more word and I’ll dock your entire paycheck for the month."

In that moment, I realized how easily poverty can strip away a person's dignity.

I covered my mouth, bolted from the office, and hid in the breakroom, weeping silently.

I squeezed the silver ring around my neck, its cold metal pressing hard against my palm.

Where are you, Dad?

How could you just leave us like this? How could you let her suffer?

I tried to gather myself, trying to stop shaking so I could go back to the floor.

But before I could open the door, Sylvia and a group of employees blocked my way.

"Lucy, don't move."

My heart plummeted.

"What's going on?"

Sylvia sneered. "The register is short five hundred dollars. What do you think is going on?"

A cold dread washed over me. "I've been hauling crates in the basement all afternoon. I haven't even been near the cash register!"

She arched an eyebrow. "How do we know you didn't sneak up here when no one was looking?"

"I didn't!" I protested, tears stinging my eyes. "Check the security cameras! The footage will prove I wasn't anywhere near the counter!"

Sylvia let out a mocking laugh.

"Oh, what a shame. The cameras conveniently went down this afternoon. Not a single thing was recorded. Quite a coincidence, don't you think?"

A chill went down my spine.

Because in my pocket, I was carrying exactly five hundred dollars.