The Bodyguard's Spoiled Princess

Laid Off

I was always the quiet one in class, but don't let that fool you. I may seem reserved, but once I set my mind to something, I give it my all. Sure, some of my friends teased me about being a bit stoic and disciplined, but it's just how I stay focused. Got to keep my head in the game, you know?

I wasn't rich like the others in my class. I had to work hard to earn everything in life. All I had left was a worn-down house and my sick father, whom I had been forced to take care of since I was fifteen. Now, at the age of thirty, I am still taking care of him and working two jobs.

My life was moving forward in the form of routine, and I was earning good enough money to support the house and my father. Things were going well until one day, Mr. Walter called me into his office. He was my boss at the warehouse where I worked as a crane driver.

"Ah, Mr. Maxwell, please step into my office," Mr. Walter opened the door to his tiny office and motioned me to go inside.

He never calls me into his office unless it was something very very important. I was starting to get nervous. Could I be finally getting a raise after working my ass off in this company?

"Please have a seat." Mr. Walter said, so I obliged.

"You've been doing an excellent job in this establishment. I hope you know we appreciate your service wholeheartedly," he said.

"Thank you, sir. I enjoy working with the..um..crane," I said awkwardly.

"Very well. However, our company is downsizing due to an extraneous circumstance, so we won't be able to keep you on," Mr. Walter said without a hint of sadness in his voice.

"I am being fired?" I asked. I was shocked.

"That's a harsh way to put it. Laid off more like it," he said.

That was the same thing, you jerk!

"But you just said I was doing a great job!" I exclaimed.

"Yes, indeed you were. However, the rest of the employees are prioritized because of their seniority. So I am afraid you are the first one to go," Mr. Walter said.

Fuck! This was not fair. I worked too hard at this job. Don't get me wrong, this wasn't my ultimate career goal to drive a crane around in a warehouse, but this was my highest paying job! I couldn't afford to lose the paycheck.

"Mr. Walter, please. Is there anything you can do? I need the money," I pleaded.

"You are a talented young man Mr. Maxwell. You'll find something else in no time. It's better not to waste your time in a place like this. Think of this as an opportunity to find something better. A blessing even," he said.

It was a blessing, my ass. He was not making me feel better. I was not planning on going for a job-hunting anytime soon. My other job was merely a part-time job, so I needed this.

Defeat hung heavy in the air as I exited the cold, empty warehouse. My mind raced with worry and questions - how would I make rent next month? How could I dig myself out of this disaster?

As I stood at the stoplight, my eyes scanned the ground until they landed on a brightly colored flyer. The bold lettering caught my attention: "Personal Care Worker Needed – Hiring Immediately."

Desperate for any opportunity, my fingers quickly tore off a corner with the phone number listed. I refused to let pride stand in the way, knowing that no job was beneath me at this moment.

With shaking hands, I dialed the number on the torn scrap of paper, willing to do whatever it takes to make ends meet. Even if it meant selling a body part!

My hands trembled as I dialed the number, hoping to land a job and make some quick money. A raspy voice answered, cutting through my nerves.

"Hello?" I stumbled over my words, stuttering out my inquiry about the personal care ad.

The woman on the other end didn't seem too friendly or interested. "Come to the Laverne resident at eight am tomorrow for an interview. I'll text you the address. Goodbye," she said abruptly before hanging up.

I wanted to ask more questions but it was too late.

What if this was some kind of scheme to trick desperate people into donating their organs? My paranoia rose as I thought about how badly I needed the money, but also how much I needed my kidneys.

If anyone was going to profit off of them, it should be me. But did I really want to risk it all for a chance at some quick cash?

With a heavy sigh, I realized it was time to start preparing for tomorrow's interview.

My stomach churned with unease as I read over the sparse information provided to me. Frowning, I squinted at the message from the woman and furrowed my brow in confusion. It was short and to the point:

Laverne Resident

6325 Arlin ct NE

You will be interviewing with Mr. William Laverne and me directly. Wear something nice and make yourself presentable. DO NOT BE LATE.

Mr. William Laverne? The name rang a bell, but I couldn't quite place it. Curiosity got the better of me, so I quickly pulled out my phone and did a Google search.

As I walked down the sidewalk, lost in thought, I nearly tripped over my own feet when the results popped up on my screen.

That man is a living legend! Probably one of the richest men in the city. He built an entire business empire from scratch. He most likely sleeps on top of a pile of cash. I get to work this closely with him? This job could really pay well. Much better than my two jobs combined.

I hit the jackpot.

Or so I thought.

Little did I know that a nightmare awaited me at the Laverne residence—a beautiful, cruel, and melancholy nightmare named Rose Laverne who would turn my life upside down in a matter of six months.