I Slept with My Boss and Ran Away

Mr. Thatcher carefully examined the property deed and said, “We should take this to Tristan for a look.” Tristan was in the next room. Mr. Thatcher handed the deed to him, “Son, take a look at this. Is this the deed for the apartment? Whose name is on it?”

Mr. Thatcher, who was completely illiterate and couldn’t even recognize the name ‘Justin Hann,’ relied on Tristan to help. Tristan was shocked as he read, “This apartment belongs to Ainsley; he bought it. Dad, didn’t he say he was renting? Why did he buy this apartment? It says here ‘Justin Hann’-that’s his name now. The apartment is over 1000 square feet, owned solely by Justin. Ainsley is guarding against us.”

Justin had never thought about guarding against his family; he just preferred to avoid complications, believing they would only stay temporarily. He and Meredith were renting the apartment merely to solve Gemma’s school admission issue and because Mr. Thatcher had been insistent on moving to a bigger apartment.

Upon hearing that Justin was being cautious, Mr. Thatcher’s face darkened immediately, “I told you, Ainsley didn’t grow up with us. How could he feel attached to us? Look, he’s guarding against us. He bought this apartment and didn’t tell us, pretending to be poor.”Original from NôvelDrama.Org.

Tristan, who had some experience in society, remarked, “Dad, real estate in the capital isn’t a joke. Ordinary people can’t afford such a big apartment. Ainsley must be earning well; a lawyer on TV can make millions a year.”

Mr. Thatcher, both angrier and intrigued, exclaimed, “He makes that much?” Tristan confidently replied, “Maybe even more. I’ve seen on TV, lawyers get a huge cut-millions from a single case, still a few percentage points, and that’s more money than our entire village could earn in generations.”

Tristan’s knowledge was entirely based on what he saw on TV. “It seems our trip here was well worth it.” Mr. Thatcher slowly sat down, began to strategize, and glanced around the apartment, “Wonder how much this apartment is worth.”

Encouraged by his father, Tristan suggested, “Dad, you should consult a real estate agent to find out the value of this apartment. Ainsley is making good money; he’s really made something of himself.” His words sounded complimentary but carried a hint of jealousy.

Hearing this, Mr. Thatcher decided, “Alright, I’ll go now. I saw a few real estate agencies downstairs.” Mrs. Thatcher intervened, “Shouldn’t we wait until Ainsley comes back? What will he think?”

“I’m his father, what’s wrong with that?” retorted Mr. Thatcher, a man of strong patriarchal beliefs, and stormed out with the deed.

About half an hour later, Mr. Thatcher returned, ecstatic, “Son, we’re set for life. I asked around, this apartment is worth at least $13 million. I’ve never seen so much money in my life.” Tristan’s eyes gleamed as he looked around. They were not just living in a apartment, they were living in a literal gold mine!

“$13 million, we could never spend all that in a lifetime. To cash them all out, you’d need several suitcases,” Tristan greedily muttered, “If only this apartment were mine. We could sell it, buy a mansion back home for $1 million, and keep the remaining $12 million to live on forever. Imagine the faces of our neighbors if they knew we lived in a mansion.”

Hearing this, Mr. Thatcher was inspired. Pride and vanity filled his thoughts. “That’s a good idea,” he agreed with a smile. “I’ve never lived in a mansion before. Some folks from our village bought apartments at Willow Grove. Your Aunt Marie’s son got one and even called to brag about it. What’s so great about that? They barely managed the down payment, while we could buy a mansion outright and really shine.”