CHAPTER 155: CHAPTER 155

Olivia’s POV

I arrived at the office in the best mood I’d had in weeks.

The morning air was clean and fresh, the sun was bright, and for once, things were actually looking up. I’d dealt with Maxwell yesterday in the most satisfying way possible, my brother was coming home after three long years, and I’d had a full night’s sleep on a work night.

Life is good.

I was humming as I walked through the building lobby - some ridiculous pop song that had been stuck in my head since breakfast. I hummed in the elevator. Hummed down the hallway. Even hummed as I unlocked Maxwell’s office door and stepped inside.

The humming stopped abruptly.

Maxwell was already there.

Of course he was.

He was sitting pretty at his desk, looking infuriatingly well-rested and perfectly well. His hair was well styled, his tie perfectly knotted, and he looked like someone who definitely hadn’t spent yesterday afternoon destroying his bathroom.

Will I ever arrive before this man? Does he sleep here? Does he even sleep?

But then I noticed something odd. The light directly above his desk - the one that usually illuminated his workspace with expensive, soft lighting - was off. The rest of the office was lit normally, but that one fixture was completely dark.

"Thank God, finally," Maxwell said the moment he saw me, and there was something in his tone that made my good mood turn sour. "Drop everything and come fix the bulb. It suddenly stopped working this morning."

I stopped short, still standing in the doorway with my bag over my shoulder. "Sir, shouldn’t we call the maintenance team? That’s what they’re for..."

"Are you complaining?" He tilted his head, studying me with those intense eyes. "And why aren’t you smiling? You’re supposed to smile when I give you tasks, remember?"

Oh my God, here we go.

I forced myself to smile, but I was sure it looked like a grimace instead. "I’m not really good with electrical stuff, sir. It might be better if we..."

"I don’t care if you’re good with it or not," he interrupted. "We agreed when you took this position that you’d handle simple maintenance tasks around the office. This is a simple maintenance task. Fix the bulb."

"But..."

"Unless you’re refusing a direct order from your employer?"

The way he said it - so calm, so reasonable, with just the hint of a threat underneath - made it clear this wasn’t actually a question.

He knows. He definitely knows about the toilet water. This is payback.

I sighed in defeat. "Fine. I’ll fix your precious bulb."

I dropped my work bag on my desk. "We’ll need a ladder."

"Use my desk," he said, gesturing casually to the desk he was currently sitting behind.

I stared at him. "Your desk? The one you’re sitting at?"

"Is there another convenient desk in this room?" He leaned back in his chair, looking far too comfortable. "Go ahead. I’ll just work down here while you work up there."

Unbelievable. He’s going to sit down there like some evil dwarf while I climb up there trying to fix his light?

I walked over to the desk, kicked off my shoes for better grip, and climbed on it. Maxwell didn’t move, didn’t even scoot his chair back. He just sat there, looking up at me.

I stood up carefully on the desk, trying to maintain my balance while also trying not to think about how close I was to Maxwell’s head, how I could easily kick his stupid head and term it as a mistake.

I reached up toward the light fixture.

My fingers came up about six inches short.

Of course. Because nothing can be easy.

"I can’t reach," I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. "See? This is why we need a ladder, or the maintenance team, or literally anyone taller than..."

"Come down and put the office stool on top of the desk," Maxwell said, still not moving from his comfortable position.

I stared down at him. "You want me to stack furniture? That’s a safety hazard. That’s how people end up in the hospital with..."

"Oliver." The way he said my name meant he was done discussing this.

Fine. FINE. If I fall and break my neck, at least I’ll have grounds for a lawsuit.

I climbed down from the desk, walked over to where we kept the small office stool - a padded thing meant for reaching high shelves - and picked it up.

It was heavier than I expected. My arms were shaking slightly as I carried it over to the desk.

"Need help?" Maxwell asked, and I could tell he wasn’t willing to help at all.

"I’ve got it," I ground out through clenched teeth.

I positioned the stool next to the desk, then - alone, because God forbid Maxwell to help - I lifted it up and set it on top of the desk. The whole setup was ridiculously unstable and probably violated about fourteen different workplace safety regulations.

But I climbed up anyway. First onto the desk, then carefully, very carefully, onto the stool that was now standing on top of the desk.

This is insane. This is absolutely insane. I’m going to die. I’m going to fall and crack my skull open and my last words will be ’I told you so.’

But at least now I could reach the light fixture.

I worked on removing the decorative glass cover that protected the bulb - a frosted dome thing that looked super expensive. When I finally got it loose, I turned to hand it down to Maxwell.

"Sir, can you take this?"

He looked up at me, his expression completely neutral. "I’m not touching that. Come down and set it somewhere safe."

ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?

My hands were shaking - from effort, from anger, from the sheer absurdity of this situation. "Sir, I’m balancing on a stool on top of your desk. Can’t you just..."

"Come down and set it down properly. I don’t want you dropping it."

Something inside me snapped.

Oh, you don’t want me dropping it? Let’s see how you feel about that.

"Shit," I said, as I let my fingers slip.

The decorative glass dome fell from my hands and shattered on the floor with a loud crash, spreading glass pieces everywhere.

I gasped, pressing my hand to my mouth, making my eyes go wide with fake horror. "Oh no! I’m so sorry, sir! It just slipped! My hands are so sweaty from climbing, and..."

"That’s coming out of your salary," Maxwell said calmly, not even looking at the broken glass. "And if you break anything else, you won’t be getting paid at all this month."

WHAT?!

My jaw dropped. "But it was an accident! You wouldn’t even help me..."

"Should have been more careful." He was already back to looking at his laptop, completely unbothered. "Now finish fixing the bulb."

I stood there on the stool, literally shaking with rage.

That’s it. I’m not just stealing a little money when I leave. I’m stealing a LOT of money. Enough to leave a comfortable and stable life.

I turned back to the light fixture, steadying myself on the stool, and reached up toward the actual bulb.

How hard can this be? You just... unscrew the old bulb and screw in the new one, right?

Except I didn’t have a new bulb. And I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. And the wiring up here looked way more complicated than I’d expected.

I touched one of the wires experimentally, trying to figure out which part was the actual bulb holder.

That’s when I felt it.

Electricity.

Sharp, violent, shocking electricity that shot through my hand, up my arm, making every muscle in my body seize up.

I heard myself scream - a high-pitched and terrified Olivia sound that didn’t sound masculine at all.

The shock knocked me backward. I felt myself falling, felt the stool tip beneath me, felt gravity take hold.

Oh God oh God oh God...

Strong arms caught me mid-fall.

Maxwell had moved with speed, pushing back from his desk and positioning himself to catch me as I tumbled backward. I crashed into his chest, my body pressed against his, his arms wrapped tightly around me.