Boss Maid - S01 E02

Story 10 hours ago

Boss Maid - S01 E02

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 2

—

Alive Hospital

Ariana burst through the hospital doors and sprinted straight for her grandmother’s ward.

The old woman lay motionless beneath a tangle of wires and tubing, monitors beeping slow and faint beside the bed. The room smelled sharply of antiseptic, of medicine, of the particular sterile heaviness that clung to every hospital room Ariana had ever hated.

She crouched beside the bed, taking her grandmother’s soft, cold hand between both of her own.

“Grandma,” she whispered, voice cracking. “You have to stay. You know you’ve been the only one who’s ever really been there for me, since my own parents abandoned me and Andy in this cruel world. You took out a loan just to pay my school fees. And now you’re lying here like this. Why, Grandma? I want to take you overseas one day, so you have to wake up for me, okay?”

Tears pricked hot at the corners of her eyes, and she blinked them back fiercely.

Crying is for the weak, she reminded herself, the same old lie she’d been telling herself for years. She wiped her eyes dry before a single tear could fall and made her way toward the doctor’s office instead, oversized denim swaying awkwardly with every hurried step, nurses glancing at her with faint, curious confusion as she passed — no ordinary person wore clothes quite that wide.

She knocked softly and entered.

“How much worse is her condition?” she asked immediately, not bothering to sit.

“Sit down, Ariana,” the young doctor said gently.

“No.”

“I won’t talk unless you sit.”

Reluctant, desperate, Ariana finally sank into the chair.

“I won’t lie to you,” the doctor said. “Her condition has continued to deteriorate. We can’t proceed with the surgery without a deposit. The tumor is growing faster than we’d hoped it wouldn’t.”

Ariana swallowed hard, throat tight.

“Can’t you just treat her now, and I’ll pay you back after? I promise. Please — just treat my grandmother. I don’t want to lose her.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Ariana. You’ve already been given more leeway than most, and we’ve done what treatment we could without payment. Her condition has worsened significantly. The surgery needs to happen before tomorrow, or—” she hesitated, “—I’m sorry. We may lose her.”

Ariana shot to her feet. “How much are we talking about?”

“Two and a half million.”

“I’ll get it,” Ariana said immediately, already moving toward the door. “Please. Don’t let her die.”

She ran from the office with a single plan forming — she’d beg Anastasia for an advance, offer to work double, triple shifts, anything, whatever it took. Her grandmother couldn’t die. Not like this. Not today.

She picked up her pace, sprinting now, oversized jeans flapping wildly with each stride.

—

Torres Scents – Corporate Headquarters

The building stood every bit as impressive as Evan Scents — sleek glass and dark stone, a quiet, confident rival that the public had debated endlessly over the years without ever fully settling which company truly held the crown. Most had eventually concluded both deserved it equally.

Devin Torres emerged from his morning meeting looking utterly exhausted, running a hand back through his brown hair, eyes matching in shade, tired but sharp. Where Evan radiated chaos and charm in equal measure, Devin carried himself with quiet, corporate steadiness — handsome in his own right, though nothing close to the reckless reputation his rival had built.

Rumor had it the two had been close friends once, back in school. Neither of them talked about it much anymore.

Devin entered his office, and his secretary brought coffee, reading through his remaining schedule with brisk efficiency. He listened, nodding along — until she reached the evening’s agenda.

“Dinner with your family tonight, sir.”

He groaned quietly. That particular dinner always ended in the same conversation he was nowhere near ready to have.

The door opened, and his younger brother Juan stepped in, grinning.

“You really don’t take opportunities when they land in your lap, do you,” Devin said dryly, waving him toward a chair.

“I’m just abusing my privileges as your favorite little brother,” Juan said, dropping into the seat. “Speaking of — Mom and Dad want you at dinner tonight.”

“I know.”

“They’re going to bring up marriage again.”

Devin dropped his forehead directly onto his desk with a groan.

—

T_ White Mansion – Afternoon

The mansion belonged to Jen and Jenna White — Evan’s younger twin siblings — sprawling and elegant, each twin holding their own private suite within the estate, though Jenna wandered into her brother’s room most afternoons regardless, controller already in hand.

They played for the better part of an hour, fiercely competitive, neither willing to concede an inch, until Jen finally won, and Jenna hurled her controller playfully at his head in retaliation before flopping back and grabbing her phone.

“We have lectures tomorrow,” she groaned. “I hate lectures.”

She opened Instagram, scrolling — predictably — straight to Juan Torres’s profile, liking photo after photo with practiced, obsessive speed.

Jen leaned over her shoulder and burst out laughing. “You’re stalking his page again.”

“Shut UP.”

He reached over and flicked her forehead lightly. “Don’t say his name with that dirty stalker mouth of yours.”

“I will fight you,” Jenna threatened, though she was laughing too hard for it to land with any real menace.

—

Ana’s Eatery – Same Afternoon

Ariana burst through the doors, breathless, and found Anastasia already waiting, arms crossed, expression thunderous. Haley and Justin both exhaled in visible relief at the sight of her — relief that vanished the instant Anastasia’s palm cracked across Ariana’s cheek.

Justin had to physically grab Haley’s arm to stop her from stepping in

“I’m sorry,” Ariana said quickly, cheek stinging. “My grandmother’s condition got worse, I had to—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Anastasia snapped. “You’re fired.”

Ariana’s stomach dropped, but she forced herself to hold steady, pride winning out over panic. She wasn’t going to beg. Not for this woman’s satisfaction.

“Fine,” Ariana said flatly, and turned, walking straight out of the restaurant without another word, refusing to let a single tear fall in front of her.

Tears are for the weak, she reminded herself again, the mantra worn thin from overuse.

Once outside, she pulled out her phone with trembling fingers and dialed Vanessa. She hated asking — Vanessa had already done so much, taking her in, feeding her — but her grandmother’s life mattered more than her pride right now.

Vanessa picked up on the third ring.

“I don’t have any money,” she said flatly, and hung up before Ariana could even finish her sentence.

Ariana stared at the phone, stunned by how fast the rejection had come — too fast, almost, like the answer had been prepared before she’d even asked the question.

She dragged her feet along the pavement, mind spinning through options that kept dead-ending, when her phone rang again.

The doctor.

“Don’t worry about the money anymore,” he said, voice heavy. “Just come.”

Ariana’s heart lodged itself somewhere in her throat, and she ran — faster than she’d ever run in her life — straight back toward the hospital.

—

Alive Hospital – Minutes Later

She burst into her grandmother’s ward and stopped dead.

The bed was already stripped of its wires, its machines. A white sheet covered the small, still shape beneath it.

“NO.” Ariana’s scream tore through the ward as orderlies began wheeling the covered body out toward the hallway. “No, please, she’s the only one I have, please—”

Nobody stopped. Nobody could stop what had already happened.

She dialed Vanessa’s number five times in a row, standing frozen in the hallway, and every single call went unanswered.

Devastated, hollow, Ariana pressed both hands over her mouth, fighting with everything she had left not to let the tears fall.

—

Torres Estate – Evening

The estate sprawled across acres of manicured grounds, several grand mansions scattered throughout the property, each belonging to a different branch of the extended Torres family. The largest, centered proudly at the heart of the estate, belonged to Devin’s parents.

Inside, Mr. and Mrs. Torres sat waiting at the elegantly set dining table, Juan already seated beside them, the three of them making small talk while they waited for Devin to arrive.

He came in a few minutes later, offering a brief apology before settling into his seat and digging into the meal.

“The company’s growth this quarter has been remarkable,” his father said first, pride evident in his tone. “Truly remarkable.”

Devin nodded, relaxing slightly — until his father’s expression shifted into something far more familiar, far more dreaded.

“Now,” his father continued, “about finding yourself a proper girl—”

Across the table, Juan pressed his lips together, clearly fighting laughter.

Devin’s fork froze halfway to his mouth.

“Arthur,” Mrs. Torres said gently, resting a hand on her husband’s arm, “let’s not rush him tonight.”

—

A Clubhouse – Night

The club pulsed with heavy bass and shifting neon light, bodies pressed close on the dance floor, bottles clinking against glass at every table.

Evan and his friends had claimed their usual booth. BJ had already disappeared beneath the attention of one enthusiastic admirer, while Aiden accepted a lap dance with theatrical delight. Beside them, two women draped themselves over Evan, one tracing lazy fingers along his jaw, the other pressing drink after drink into his hand, both of them laughing at everything he said whether it was funny or not.

He spanked one of them lightly, and she giggled, leaning in to kiss him while the other continued refilling his glass, the alcohol flowing freely, the night blurring pleasantly at the edges the way he preferred it.

Attached to the club, a quieter bar sat mostly in shadow, and there, alone at the counter, Ariana drank like her life depended on it.

She wasn’t getting drunk fast enough. No matter how much she poured down her throat, the grief sat stubbornly clear and sharp behind her eyes, refusing to blur.

“Give me your strongest,” she told the bartender, voice flat, and he obliged, sliding another round across the counter without comment.

She drank it down entirely. Ordered another. Drank that too.

Somewhere around the fourth or fifth round, the world finally began to tilt properly, the edges softening, blurring, the ache in her chest dulling into something more distant, more bearable.

She ordered more. Drank more.

By the time she rose unsteadily from her stool, she had no clear sense of anything at all — not the time, not her own name, barely even the ground beneath her wobbling feet.

She wandered, drunk and directionless, toward what she vaguely assumed was the restroom, and sank down against the wall inside, crying without tears, wailing softly into the dark, too far gone for any of it to make sense anymore.

The door creaked open Few minutes later, the door opened and drunk Evan staggered In, the room was dark, he couldn’t see anybody but could heard voices, he staggered to Ariana and grabbed her, she snuggled into him spilling gibberish, against his chest, he touch the curve of her ass and she pulled him more closer, he turned her back to the wall and she pull down her denim senselessly. He unbolted his trousers and entered her slowly while his hands stayed on her body, he inhaled her heavenly sweet jasmine scent, moving inside her.

TBC