I Slept with My Boss and Ran Away

Mr. Thatcher immediately understood what Tristan meant and urgently instructed Mrs. Thatcher, “Take Gemma to sleep, I need to talk with our son.” They would need to devise a solid plan to really get the apartment. For Mr. Thatcher, receiving over ten million dollars at once was obviously far more appealing than having a son around. Justin provided them with just a small amount of money each month, which Mr. Thatcher and his family now found insufficient.

Mrs. Thatcher, subjugated by her husband for decades and bereft of her own will, meekly complied. She was weak and incapable of resistance. She took Gemma to her room for the night, while Mr. Thatcher stayed behind to conspire with Tristan.

Sitting down, Mr. Thatcher asked, “Son, what’s your plan?”

Tristan answered, “A couple of days ago, I saw on TV, a stepfather was arrested for molesting his stepdaughter. It caused an uproar online, and he was eventually sentenced. Dad, what if we said Ainsley had also touched Gemma? He would have to go to prison.”

Tristan’s eyes gleamed with ruthless determination; now Justin was no longer a brother in his eyes, not even a stranger.

Tristan’s voice was sinister as he continued, “Then, he might transfer the apartment to Gemma as compensation, or he goes to jail. As Ainsley’s father, you’d have the right to handle the house. Either way, we get the apartment.”

As Tristan outlined his plan, excitement sparkled in his eyes, as if he could already see the apartment within their grasp. As for what might happen to the poor Justin, that was the least of his concerns; his focus was solely on the money. Ten million dollars acted like a mirror, reflecting the ugliest side of human nature.Content rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.

Mr. Thatcher coldly nodded, “I like this idea. Let’s do it.”

Of course, what could we expect from a man willing to betray his own children?

Mr. Thatcher added, “Son, you need a foolproof plan. Ainsley is a lawyer, and he has a wider network than us. What if we can’t sue him?”

“I’ve thought it all through,” Tristan said excitedly. “You go to the media. We strike first, make it a big scandal, so big that Ainsley won’t have a chance to defend himself. We are family after, people sure will believe what we say. Then, we get Gemma to say a few words on video; Ainsley will just have to wait for the public’s scorn. Once it’s done, what can Ainsley do?”

Tristan had a well-thought-out strategy, but it all depended on Mr. Thatcher’s approval.

Tristan would not be the one to face the public; he planned to stay behind Mr. Thatcher. If anything went wrong, his father would take the fall.

Like father, like son-Tristan was inherently selfish. After becoming paralyzed, and his wife leaving him, his life had twisted even further.

Mr. Thatcher slapped his thigh, “Good, I’ll go to the media tomorrow. Ainsley started this, so he can’t blame me.”

…

Away from home, Justin was unaware of the storm brewing against him. Sitting by the roadside, he smoked two cigarettes. Because of the apartment issue, he couldn’t return home. His initial acceptance of the apartment was intended to provide a better, more comfortable environment for his family. But now it seemed his family could sure take care of themselves.

Receiving a message on his phone from Fiona, “Did you deliver the supplements to Meredith?”

Justin casually replied, “Yes, I’ve given them to her.”

He hadn’t actually delivered them, but he couldn’t let Fiona know; otherwise, a minor issue could escalate into a worst headache.

Fiona, satisfied with the response, did not continue the conversation.

Justin extinguished his cigarette, contemplating the recent events. He felt it was time to return the apartment to Meredith, or he might not be able to keep it at all.

Deciding this, he drove early the next morning to “Merrydale Estate.”

Meredith, surprised by his early visit, quickly dressed and came downstairs.

“You’re here early, and you look upset. Did something happen? Come inside, have you had breakfast?” Meredith invited him in.

“Yeah … There’s indeed a bit of an issue,” Justin said.

“I’ll have Mrs. Wooten prepare breakfast, and we can talk,” Meredith led Justin inside, calling out to the kitchen, “Mrs. Wooten, is breakfast ready?”

“Ready in a moment, Mrs. Sterling,” Mrs. Wooten responded from the kitchen.