Chapter 88: [2.63] The Final Boss Sits on a Velvet Sofa
The car rolled to a stop at the front steps, and I imdiately knew sothing was wrong.
The guards weren’t just standing at attention. They were coiled. Like springs waiting to snap. One of them had his hand near sothing I really hoped wasn’t a weapon but probably was.
The driver opened Vivienne’s door first. She stepped out like she’d expected nothing less, her posture perfect, her expression giving away absolutely nothing.
"Is it always like this?" I asked quietly as we climbed the steps.
"Only when Mother’s ho."
The front doors opened before we reached them. Mrs. Tanaka stood there, her face unreadable.
"Miss Vivienne. Mr. Angelo." Her tone was professional, but her eyes said good luck, you’re going to need it.
The foyer felt colder than usual. The marble floors glead under the chandelier’s light, and I swear even the paintings looked more judgntal than normal.
Actually, no. That was just the usual level of ancestral disappointnt radiating from the walls.
Vivienne handed her coat to Mrs. Tanaka without breaking stride. I did the sa, except my movents were nowhere near as smooth.
"Where are my sisters?" Vivienne asked.
"The library. They were instructed to wait there until dinner."
"And Mother?"
"The grand salon."
Vivienne’s jaw tightened for half a second before her mask snapped back into place.
The grand salon. The room we’d been actively avoiding since I started working here because it was the "formal entertaining space" and approximately zero percent comfortable.
"Co," Vivienne said to . Not asked. Ordered.
I followed her through the hallway, past the portrait of Richard Valentine, past the sitting rooms and music room and whatever other ridiculous spaces this house had that I still hadn’t morized.
The doors to the grand salon stood open.
And sitting inside, on a velvet sofa that probably cost more than my entire neighborhood, was a woman who made Vivienne’s intimidation factor look like a gentle suggestion.
Camille Valentine.
She wore a white blouse and black slacks that sohow looked more expensive than most people’s wedding outfits. Her wine-red hair was pulled back in a low bun, not a single strand out of place.
Her purple eyes were locked on a laptop screen, one hand holding a delicate teacup while the other moved across the keyboard with chanical speed.
She didn’t look up.
Vivienne stopped just inside the doorway. I stopped beside her, feeling like I’d walked into a boss battle I was severely underleveled for.
"Mother."
"Vivienne." Camille’s voice was cold. "You’re late."
"The interview ran over. The digital team requested additional content."
"I’m aware. I received the analytics thirty minutes ago."
Camille finally looked up from her laptop. Her eyes swept over Vivienne first, cataloging every detail in a single glance. Then they landed on .
"It’s nice to et you properly, Isaiah Angelo."
"It’s nice to et you, ma’am."
"You may call
Mrs. Valentine." She set her teacup down with a soft clink. "I understand you’ve been assisting my daughters."
"Yes, ma’am. Mrs. Valentine."
"Dr. Reyes speaks highly of you."
"Dr. Reyes is generous."
"Dr. Reyes is thorough. She doesn’t give recomndations lightly." Camille’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Tell , Mr. Angelo. What do you believe your role is in this household?"
Great. A pop quiz.
"I’m here to provide support to your daughters," I said carefully. "Academic assistance for Cassidy. Organizational help for Harlow. Administrative support for Vivienne when needed."
"And Sabrina?"
I paused. Sabrina hadn’t exactly given
a job description beyond feed
ran at midnight and let
use you as a pillow.
"Sabrina hasn’t required much from
yet."
Camille’s lips curved into sothing that might have been a smile if smiles could freeze water.
"That will change." She closed her laptop with a decisive snap. "My daughters are not easy to work for, Mr. Angelo. I assu you’ve noticed."
"They’re teenagers with substantial responsibilities. I’d be surprised if they were easy to work for."
Her eyebrow lifted. Just slightly.
"You worked at the Velvet Lounge before this, yes?"
How did she know that? Actually, stupid question. She probably had a dossier on
that included my favorite brand of instant ran.
"Yes, ma’am."
"Service industry experience is valuable. You understand discretion."
"I signed the NDA," I said.
"The NDA is a legal formality. I’m speaking of sothing more fundantal." She stood, and the room seed to rearrange itself around her presence.
"My daughters are public figures whether they want to be or not. Anything that happens in this house stays in this house. Anything you see, anything you hear, anything you experience. Do you understand?"
"Completely."
"Good." She picked up her teacup again. "Vivienne tells
you’ve made progress with Cassidy."
I glanced at Vivienne. She gave
nothing. Her face was a perfect mask.
"Cassidy’s intelligent," I said. "She just needs different thods than what she’s been given."
"Seven tutors have said similar things."
"Seven tutors tried to force her into a system that doesn’t work for her brain. I changed the system instead."
Silence.
Camille sipped her tea. Considered
like I was a particularly interesting tax write-off.
"You’re either very confident or very stupid."
"Little bit of both, probably."
Vivienne made a sound. Small. Strangled. Like she’d just watched
commit career suicide and couldn’t decide whether to be impressed or horrified.
But Camille smiled. Actually smiled.
"You have a week remaining in your probationary period, Mr. Angelo. If Cassidy’s grades improve, we’ll discuss making your position permanent." She set her cup down. "If they don’t, you’ll be compensated for your ti and released from service. Understood?"
"Understood."
"Vivienne, ensure Mr. Angelo is prepared for dinner. We eat at six. Sharp."
"Yes, Mother."
Camille returned to her laptop. We were dismissed.
Vivienne turned and walked out. I followed, resisting the urge to bolt.
The doors closed behind us.
"Well," I said quietly. "She’s terrifying."
"She’s Mother." Vivienne’s voice was completely flat. "You did well."
"I insulted seven previous employees and basically called her parenting thods garbage."
"Yes. And you’re still employed." She glanced at . "That ans she respects you. Slightly."
Fantastic. I’d earned slight respect from a woman who probably ate CEOs for breakfast.
My phone buzzed. I checked it reflexively.
Iris: how’s it going???
: t the final boss. Still alive.
Iris: FINAL BOSS?????
: The mom. She knows everything. It’s disturbing.
Iris: did you do the thing where you say sothing stupid and sohow it works out
: Yes.
Iris: I KNEW IT. that’s your superpower. tactical stupidity.
I put my phone away before I could respond to that incredibly accurate assessnt.
"Where are we going?" I asked Vivienne.
"To retrieve my sisters from the library. Mother will want all of us present for dinner."
"How formal are we talking?"
"Sit up straight. Use the correct fork. Don’t speak unless spoken to." She paused. "And don’t ntion the boba girl."
"I wasn’t planning to."
"Good. Because Cassidy is still volatile about that subject."
The library doors were closed. Vivienne opened them without knocking.
Inside, all three of her sisters were sprawled across various pieces of furniture in poses that scread we’ve been waiting forever and we’re bored.
Harlow sat upside down in an armchair, her legs dangling over the back, scrolling through her phone. Cassidy was lying flat on the floor, staring at the ceiling like it had personally offended her. Sabrina occupied the window seat, book in hand, looking like a Gothic portrait.
"Mother’s ho," Vivienne announced.
All three of them groaned simultaneously. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so perfectly synchronized.
"We know," Cassidy said without moving. "The entire house knows. The security team’s been losing their minds for the past hour."
"Has she summoned us yet?" Sabrina asked, not looking up from her book.
"Dinner is at six. Sharp."
"Which gives us twenty-seven minutes." Harlow flipped herself upright with alarming flexibility. "Wait. Is Isaiah eating with us?"
All three sisters looked at .
"Mother requested his presence," Vivienne said.
"Oh no." Harlow’s eyes went wide. "Isaiah, you have to understand. Family dinners with Mother are. They’re. Um."
"Torture," Cassidy supplied helpfully. "They’re torture."
"She’s going to ask you questions," Sabrina said, her voice flat. "And if your answers displease her, she’ll destroy you with perfect politeness."
"I already t her. In the salon."
Four identical expressions of shock.
"You what?" Cassidy sat up so fast I thought she’d give herself whiplash.
"Vivienne and I stopped by before coming here."
"And you’re still alive?" Harlow looked genuinely amazed.
"Mother found him acceptable," Vivienne said.
"Acceptable." Cassidy whistled low. "Damn. That’s practically a marriage proposal in Mother-speak."
"It’s not." Vivienne’s cheeks flushed slightly. "It ans he passed basic competency standards."
Sabrina set her book down. Studied
with those unreadable purple eyes.
"What did you say to her?"
"The truth. Mostly."
"Mostly?"
"I may have implied that her previous tutoring choices were ineffective."
Dead silence.
Then Cassidy started laughing. Full, genuine laughter that echoed through the library.
"You told Mother her hiring decisions were bad. To her face."
"I was diplomatic about it."
"And she didn’t fire you on the spot." Cassidy grinned like I’d just won the lottery.
"I’m starting to think stupidity is my primary survival chanism."
"It’s worked so far," Harlow said cheerfully.
Vivienne checked her watch. "We have twenty-three minutes. Harlow, fix your hair. Cassidy, change your shirt. That one has a stain. Sabrina, you’re fine."
"I’m always fine," Sabrina murmured.
"Isaiah, co with . We need to brief you on dinner protocol."
"There’s protocol?"
"There’s always protocol."
She grabbed my wrist and pulled
out of the library before I could protest.
Behind us, I heard Cassidy mutter sothing about "poor bastard" and Harlow giggling.
Fantastic.
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