Chapter 146 Stirring Trouble
Quinley led Zachary to the cramped apartment she rented.
He shuffled through the doorway like a scolded puppy, feet planted awkwardly in the entryway.
"Cindy, do you have clean slippers?"
Quinley shot him a look over her shoulder. "No. Go wash your feet in the bathroom, rinse those slippers while you're at it, and dry everything before you come back out."
"But my slippers are broken."
Zachary pulled off one shoe and held it up like evidence. The heel was missing a chunk, and the sole looked ready to split clean through.
Something flickered in Quinley's eyes. "Just wash your feet. I'll buy you new ones."
"Okay!" His whole face brightened as he tiptoed toward the bathroom. Quinley snatched up the broken slipper to check the size.
"Don't wander around while I'm gone. And absolutely do not leave this apartment. Clear?"
"Crystal clear, Cindy. I promise I'll stay right in the bathroom. Won't budge an inch."
Quinley bolted out the door and made a beeline for the nearest supermarket.
Normally, Zachary was ridiculously picky about his clothes and shoes—the type who wouldn't be caught dead in cheap supermarket finds. But right now, she didn't have the luxury of being choosy. She grabbed a random pair of green slippers and headed for checkout.
The second she finished paying, Peter's call came through.
"Cindy, it's a weekday. It's already nine-thirty—where are you?"
Quinley's stomach dropped. "I had an emergency. I'll be there right away."
"Make it quick. The cleaning supervisor's been on my case. Grace called in sick, and if you don't show up, there's no one to handle the executive floor."
Before she could catch her breath, the supervisor herself called.
"Cindy, where are you? The entire executive floor looks like a disaster zone, and I'm fielding complaints. I don't care what emergency you're dealing with—get to the office and handle this mess. Now."
"Okay, I'll be right there."
In her panic to leave, Quinley completely forgot about Zachary waiting at home. And the slippers—she left them sitting on the checkout counter.
She hailed a cab to Apex Global Group and practically ran once she got inside. The moment she arrived, several women from the secretarial pool descended on her with matching frowns.
"Cindy, look at this disaster. Grace always had everything spotless by seven a.m. You're new—shouldn't you be learning from her? How are we supposed to work in this mess?"
"I'm sorry. Won't happen again."
Quinley didn't waste breath arguing. She grabbed a rag and attacked the break room counter, which was plastered with coffee rings, tea stains, milk spills, and scattered snack wrappers. After that came the restrooms. She spun like a top all morning while the mess-makers never stopped.
With Grace out, every single task landed squarely on Quinley's shoulders. By the time she finished, noon had rolled around.
She was stashing her cleaning supplies when Peter appeared down the hall, waving her over. "Cindy, got a minute?"
Quinley wiped her hands and headed his way. At the corridor entrance, Peter stood with furrowed brows, wringing his hands like he was preparing for an execution.
"Listen, I need to talk to you about something."
Quinley braced herself. She kept her voice level. "Just tell me straight, Mr. Martin."
"Right. So the cleaning supervisor had a chat with me. Given today's situation, he wants to transfer you to lobby cleaning." Peter's hands twisted together. "What happened this morning isn't the end of the world, but you're new, so..."
"Could you just... tough it out for a while? First chance I get, I'll try to move you back up. Promise."
Quinley exhaled slowly. She'd been inexcusably late. The company had every right to punish her. No point arguing.
"Should I head down there now?"
"Grab lunch first. Report after."
The company cafeteria was functional at best. Quinley shoveled down a few bites, gathered her belongings from the utility room, and prepared to relocate downstairs.
Adela emerged from the break room, coffee cup in hand, her gaze landing on Quinley like a heat-seeking missile. "Congratulations."
The word dripped venom.
Quinley's response came out flat. "Same to you."
Adela glided past with practiced elegance, finally pulling her eyes away. She moved like a peacock strutting through a garden—one blinded by her own smugness. Times had changed. People had changed. Now Adela was chief secretary of the executive office while Quinley had been demoted to cleaning—nothing but a convenient punching bag.
The lobby supervisor was a middle-aged woman built like a linebacker, with an expression that screamed 'don't test me.'
The moment Quinley reported for duty, she got a verbal boot camp.
"You're Cindy, right? Mr. Martin briefed me, but working under me means following my rules. This lobby is the company's face. Screw up here, and you embarrass everyone. So let's get this straight—no tardiness, no leaving early. Time off requires a day's advance notice. No slacking on the job, and absolutely no running to management behind my back. We clear?"
"Clear."
"Then get moving."
Quinley grabbed her bucket and mop. Apex Global Group's lobby was enormous—gleaming cream tiles stretching wall to wall, ten cleaners on duty around the clock. The most grueling assignment in the entire company.
She worked straight from noon until dusk. No water breaks. No time to even glance at her phone.
Seven-thirty finally arrived. Quinley headed to the break room to change and discovered her phone lit up with dozens of missed calls.
"Mr. Murphy, I'm so sorry I missed your calls." She immediately dialed Lucas back.
He was driving, engine noise making it hard to hear. "Ms. Promise, something came up—emergency business trip. Won't make it back tonight. Need you to look after Mr. Jennings."
Quinley had been ready to refuse, but her brain suddenly short-circuited.
Zachary. At her apartment. She'd completely forgotten.
"Understood."
She didn't bother changing clothes. Just sprinted all the way back to her apartment in the southern district.
The second she opened the door, her worst fears materialized. Water. Everywhere.
The bathroom door was shut tight, a steady stream gushing from underneath and spreading across her floor like an advancing army. She waded through the flood and yanked the door open.
Zachary was still there, curled up in the bathtub with his head propped on the rim, eyes closed, fast asleep. A string of drool dangled from his mouth.
"Zachary!"
Her roar could've shattered glass. She lunged for the faucet and twisted it off.
He jerked awake, blinking like a startled owl. "Cindy! You're finally back! I waited forever. You didn't come home, and I got so sleepy..." He rubbed his eyes, looking pathetically helpless. "Did you get my slippers? I'm starving. Can we have steak?"
Armed with nothing but an eight-year-old's comprehension, he'd created this disaster and still had the nerve to make demands.
The fury in Quinley's chest roared to life.
"You don't know how to turn off a faucet? Do you have any idea how exhausted I am? What exactly are you trying to pull?"
She was practically vibrating with rage.
Zachary scrambled to his feet in the tub, water sloshing everywhere. "I thought I did turn it off!"
Quinley didn't have the energy to argue. Her back was screaming from today's marathon shift. She found a bucket and rags and started soaking up the mess bit by bit.
"Cindy, I'm sorry. This is my fault." His voice went small. "Let me do it. You rest, okay?"
He stood there with his head hanging, eyes watching her like a kicked puppy.
She ignored him, offering only the cold expanse of her back.
Then suddenly, Zachary stepped out of the tub barefoot. He waded through the water, scooped Quinley up from behind in one fluid motion, and strode toward the bedroom.