Chapter 4

On my first day of work.

I strictly followed the netizens' advice, portraying myself as a "hyper-compliant but utterly clueless" assistant.

Tiffany told me to be up at six to await her instructions, and I reported to her room promptly.

"Avery Collins, are you a ghost? It's so early! Don't you know I sleep until I wake up naturally?"

She roared at me, her hair a messy bun.

I innocently held up my phone's memo app.

"Ms. Sterling, these were your instructions from yesterday: six o'clock sharp, not a minute more, not a minute less. I'm just demonstrating my professionalism."

She was speechless, rolling her eyes at me.

"Get down and prepare breakfast!"

"Certainly. Do you have any specific requirements for breakfast?"

"Like calorie count, ingredient origin, cooking method..."

"Shut up! Just make whatever!"

Alright, whatever it is.

I prepared a "whatever" breakfast for her:

A bowl of plain congee, a plate of boiled cabbage, and two hard-boiled eggs.

Next to it, I thoughtfully placed a handwritten nutritional analysis chart.

Tiffany's face went green staring at the sparse and unappetizing meal.

"Avery Collins, are you doing this on purpose? Trying to starve me?"

"Ms. Sterling, you said 'whatever'."

"According to the healthy eating pyramid, this is the most scientifically balanced breakfast combination. I'm only looking out for your health."

I spouted nonsense with a perfectly straight face.

In the morning, she asked me to polish what was supposedly an antique vase from the last century.

I asked:

"Do I need any special cleaning agents?"

She waved her hand dismissively:

"Use your rough hands! If you talk back again, I'll make you scrub it with a steel wool pad!"

"Understood. Message received."

Ten minutes later, Tiffany's shriek echoed from the study.

She pointed at the vase, now covered in scratches and completely devoid of its former luster, trembling all over.

"Avery Collins! What did you do to my vase!"

I held up the steel wool pad, smiling.

"Ms. Sterling, I merely followed your instructions strictly and 'scrubbed' it clean with a steel wool pad."

"See? There's not a speck of dust now."

In the afternoon, she asked me to iron a custom-made silk gown.

I again "humbly" inquired:

"Ms. Sterling, what temperature should I set the iron to?"

"Max! Max heat! Make it perfectly flat! Not a single wrinkle!"

She gritted her teeth.

"Certainly, mission accomplished."

The result was predictable.

That six-figure gown now bore an eternal triangle branded onto the chest area, thanks to my highest-setting iron.

Tiffany lost it.

She raised her hand, ready to slap me.

I didn't dodge.

Her hand was stopped mid-air.

Sebastian, who had appeared at the doorway, caught her wrist.

"Seb! Let me go! I'm going to tear her apart!"

Tiffany pointed at me, crying with rage.

"Look at the mess she made! She's utterly useless!"

Sebastian's gaze shifted from the scorched gown to my face.

"What happened?"

Tiffany rushed to cry out:

"I told her to iron a dress, and she ruined my gown!"

"Seb, she did it on purpose! She's jealous of me!"

I lowered my head, whimpering pitifully:

"I'm sorry, Mr. Sterling, I just... strictly followed Ms. Sterling's instructions to set the iron to maximum heat..."

"And you dare talk back!"

Sebastian's face grew darker and darker. He released Tiffany and walked towards me.

"You're fired."