He Gave Me $800 and Expected Me to Stay?! Yeah, No… Watch Me Turn the Tables Chapter 02

He Gave Me $800 and Expected Me to Stay?! Yeah, No… Watch Me Turn the Tables Chapter 02

At eleven p.m., Vincent Sterling came home reeking of alcohol. 

I hurried up to him and ook his suit jacket. 

He tugged at his tie, brow faintly furrowed. 

“Go run the water. I’m taking a shower.” 

I hung up the jacket and spoke in a low voice. 

“Mr. Sterling, can I get an advance on next month’s pay?* 

Vincent Sterling paused. 

“An advance on your pay 

He repeated it, no emotion in his voice. 

“Yes. I urgently need some money. Can I…” 

‘Chloe Paige, aren’t you being a little too greedy?” 

He cut me off. 

“You eat my food, live in my house, wear my clothes, and now you come asking me for money.” 

Sienna said you’ve been spending like crazy lately. I didn’t believe her. Looks like she was right.” 

I stood frozen, like something was stuck in my chest. 

“I haven’t been blowing money. I just…” 

Vincent Sterling’s eyes went cold. 

‘I’m tired. I don’t want to hear those excuses of yours for asking for money.” 

“Do your job. Don’t make me think you’re a problem.” 

He turned and headed for the bathroom, leaving me standing alone. 

in the empty living room. 

I looked at the review form on the coffee table, covered in dense red pen marks. 

$800. 

After this month’s HOA fees and utilities, I wouldn’t even get a hot meal. 

My pay was only $3,000, and they still called me greedy. 

In these rich people’s eyes, was $3,000 some kind of fortune? 

Evil capitalists. They’d wring a canary dry down to the bone! 

The next second, my phone buzzed. 

A message from Sienna Quinn. 

“Ms. Paige, Vince asked me to remind you.” 

“Know your place. Stop always wanting things that don’t belong to you.” 

“As punishment, next month’s allowance is canceled.” 

Right after that, the hospital called. 

“Ms. Paige, the director’s condition isn’t looking good. The surgery can’t wait any longer.” 

The doctor’s voice was very serious, 

“We can’t put this off much longer, the surgery fee has to be paid in full, or we’ll have to discharge her.” 

My knuckles went white around the phone. 

“Doctor, I’m begging you, give me a few more days. I’ll get the money together.” 

I hung up and felt like I couldn’t breathe. 

Rather than live at some rich man’s mercy, I might as well make my own money and find a way out. 

Once I’d made up my mind, I blocked Vincent Sterling and Sienna Quinn’s numbers on the spot. 

On the midnight street, I unlocked a bike–share bike and rode toward the edge of the city. 

The wind roared in my ears, but I felt lighter than I ever had. 

Fuck this paid–companion gig. 

Fuck the KPI reviews. 

I was going to make my own money. 

I rode for a full three hours. 

Just before dawn, I finally reached a flea market in a run–down neighborhood. 

I spent the $2,000 I’d saved on a used food cart. 

Then I bought a propane tank, a griddle, and some ingredients for making breakfast wraps. 

With the few hundred I had left, I rented a basement in the run–down neighborhood. 

It was only a hundred square feet, no windows, but only $300 a month. 

Most importantly, there were no expensive HOA fees here. 

The first day I set up, I couldn’t even knead the dough right. 

Every wrap I cooked either tore or burned. 

A few students passing by glanced at me, shook their heads, and walked off. 

I didn’t get discouraged. 

Back in the basement that night, I followed tutorials online. 

Practicing over and over. 

Flour all over my hair and clothes, several blisters burned onto my hands. 

But I didn’t even have time to say it hurt. 

The second day. The third day. 

I got better and better. 

The wraps came out golden and crispy, the smell hitting you in the face. 

I also learned how to play cat and mouse with the city inspectors. 

How to snag the most visible spot in the night market. 

From then on, the city had one less miserable kept woman, and the 

night market had gained a breakfast–wrap seller called “Boss Paige.”