Because I was taking the fall for a coworker, I stood in the executive suite with my head hung low, enduring a merciless dressing-down. The man sitting behind the desk was our newly appointed CEO, Gale Lockhart. He was two years younger than me, but in our industry, he was already notorious as a ruthless, cold-blooded king. With a dark expression, he slammed the financial report onto the mahogany desk. My mind went completely blank. I was certain this was the moment I’d be packing up my desk. Just then, the heavy double doors of the executive suite were violently kicked open. My mother, fresh out of her hospital bed and seemingly possessed by a sudden burst of frantic energy, swept into the room like a hurricane. Before anyone could react, she marched right up to Gale and grabbed him by the lapels of his bespoke suit jacket. “Oh, my sweet son-in-law! Where are my two chubby little grandbabies? I just had them downstairs riding the coin-op spaceship, and the second I turned my head, they vanished!” The room plunged into a suffocating, dead silence. My ears rang. I stood there frozen, praying this was just a horrific nightmare brought on by my mother’s recent medical episode. But before I could step in and cover her mouth, she pointed a finger directly at Gale’s nose and continued her tirade: “You usually don’t even dare to breathe too loudly at home! You had to get down on one knee just to get Cheryl to let you buy that custom VR gaming rig!” She scoffed, tightening her grip on his lapel. “Did you eat a bowl of courage for breakfast today? How dare you yell at my daughter in your fancy office?!” Gale slowly, stiffly turned his head to look at me. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were wide with a pure, unadulterated terror. “I’m not even dating anyone,” he murmured, his voice cracking slightly. “Not only did I apparently father two sons behind my own back, but I also have to kneel on the floor just to buy a gaming rig?” … “Mr. Lockhart, I am so incredibly sorry. My mother hasn’t been entirely clear-headed lately. I’ll take her to the hospital right away!” I lunged forward to grab my mother’s arm, but she slapped my hand away. She marched back to the desk and slammed her palms flat against the polished wood. “Why are you pulling me away?” she snapped, glaring at me before turning her fiery gaze back to Gale. “Cheryl might be a pushover, but as her mother, I’m not afraid of you! Who do you think you’re fooling? Playing the innocent bachelor in front of me, are we?” She leaned in, her voice carrying easily through the spacious room. “You have a copper-sized crimson birthmark on your inner right thigh. You act like an untouchable ice king here at the office, but when you’re at home, you can’t even sleep soundly unless you’re practically glued to my daughter.” “And last month, when you spent millions on that limited-edition cockpit without telling her? You made Cheryl so mad she banished you to the guest room. I could still count the scratch marks she left on your back!” Outside the glass partition, several administrative assistants simultaneously gasped and slapped their hands over their mouths. Gale’s cold, flawless facade cracked right down the middle. His eyes stretched wider, staring at my mother for five agonizing seconds. Suddenly, the office doors burst open again. Four security guards rushed in, brandishing riot shields. “Mr. Lockhart, this crazy old lady—” the lead guard began, breathless. Gale raised a hand, cutting him off instantly. “Get out. And close the doors behind you.” The guards hesitated, blinking in confusion. “Did you not hear me?” Gale’s voice dropped to a dangerously quiet octave. “Get the hell out.” The heavy doors clicked shut, instantly shutting out the crowd of onlookers who had been straining their necks to catch every word. My mind raced back to last weekend. At the dinner table, I had deleted the contact info of the blind date my mother had practically forced on me, refusing to go. She had been so furious she smashed three porcelain bowls, clutched her chest, and collapsed onto the sofa. We had rushed her to the emergency room in the middle of the night. Today was her discharge day, and the very first thing she did was storm into my office to stage this absolute circus. “Mom! Do you really want to destroy my career?” I cried, my voice trembling as cold sweat slicked my palms. “Are you trying to force me to pack my bags and go back home to get married?!” I turned desperately to Gale. “Mr. Lockhart, I will submit my resignation immediately. I’ll fill out the transition forms right now, and you don’t even have to pay me for this month. I swear I won’t say a single word to anyone about… about your birthmark. Please, just don’t take this out on my mother.” I reached out to drag my mother away. “Let go of me! Who gave you permission to resign?” my mother scolded, slapping my hand away again before tossing her purse onto the plush leather sofa. Gale didn’t even look at me. He walked past the desk, heading over to the water dispenser. The delicate clinking of bone china echoed in the quiet room as he poured a cup of warm water. He walked back, holding the cup with both hands, and offered it to my mother with utmost politeness. “Ma’am, please have some water first.” My mother accepted the cup, giving him a skeptical look. “Oh, so now you know how to be attentive?” She took a sip. “Where was this attitude when you were barking at my daughter over a few stupid pieces of paper?” My knees felt like jelly. I stared down at the tips of my flats, not daring to look up. The financial report had actually been prepared by my colleague, Courtney. When she realized there was an error, she had dumped the blame onto me, and I had been too timid to defend myself. Now, not only was the blame cemented, but my boss’s most intimate secrets had been laid bare in front of the entire office. “Mr. Lockhart, the error in the report is entirely my responsibility. I will take full accountability. It has nothing to do with my family,” I whispered, my voice shaking. Gale turned his gaze to me. “Be quiet.” I shut my mouth instantly, biting my lower lip. He pulled over an ergonomic chair and gently guided my mother down by her shoulders. Then, he leaned back against the edge of his desk, casually loosening his silk tie and crossing his arms over his chest. The face that usually made the company’s vice presidents tremble with fear now wore an expression of bizarre, genuine curiosity. “Mom, you were saying…” Hearing him slide so effortlessly into calling her “Mom” made me choke on my own breath. I nearly bit my tongue. This was Gale Lockhart. The man who had fired three executives on his first day. And here he was, riding the wave of my mother’s delusion without correcting her even once. Gale leaned forward slightly, keeping his voice incredibly soft. “When I buy a gaming rig at home, I really have to get down on one knee to beg for her signature?” My mother blew on the steam rising from her cup, took another sip, and settled comfortably into the chair. “Of course you do!” she said, patting her knee. “So what if you’re the boss out there? At home, you’re just a whipped husband who revolves entirely around his wife.” She patted her thigh, launching into the story with theatrical flair. “If Cheryl tells you to go east, you wouldn’t dare take a single step west. Most of your personal assets are already under her name, and any expense over five million from your private account requires a written request to her.” “Last month, you bought a private helicopter behind her back. Once she found the invoice, you spent two hours in the living room pouring her tea, massaging her shoulders, and writing a ten-thousand-word letter of apology. And that’s not even mentioning the ten million in slush funds you hid in the trunk of your vintage supercar. She found every single penny, threw you and your pillow out to the guest room, and didn’t let you back into the master bedroom for three whole days!” I crouched beside the desk, burying my face in my hands, my palms damp with nervous sweat. Yesterday, Courtney had dumped her unfinished work on my desk so she could leave early for a date. Last week, our manager had passed all of her tedious tasks to me, even making me write her daughter’s summer book report. I was the ultimate office doormat, unable to say the word “no.” And now, my mother was painting me as a fierce, husband-taming tiger who kept a billionaire CEO on a tight leash. “Mom, please stop talking!” I yelled, looking up at her in agony. “I don’t even dare to step on an ant! How could I ever kick him out of the bedroom?!” My mother was clearly unwell, and somehow, her madness was infectious. Instead of getting angry, Gale pulled a sleek fountain pen from his breast pocket and picked up a leather-bound notebook from his desk. “Besides the car trunk, where else do I usually hide things?” He flipped to a fresh page, holding the pen poised, his eyes locked onto my mother. My mother let out a scoff, raising her fingers to count them off. “You really think Cheryl doesn’t know? She’s just too lazy to call you out!” “In the very back of the walk-in closet, inside the pocket of your golf bags—there are several unregistered black cards. In the library, on the second shelf of the display cabinet, hidden inside those antique porcelain urns—that’s where you keep the hardware security keys for your offshore accounts. And in the master bedroom, under the hidden compartment of the wet bar—besides your rare whiskey, you’ve got several racing club membership cards!” “Did you really think your little tricks could escape her?” My mother was getting more animated by the second, her words pouring out like a rapid-fire machine gun. “And it’s not just at home. You do it here in the office, too!” “In the safe under your desk, the password is Cheryl’s birthday combined with your wedding anniversary. Inside, besides confidential documents, you’ve got several boxes of Cohiba cigars that Cheryl strictly forbade you from smoking!” My entire body was trembling. My knees were so weak I could only remain crouched on the floor. Gale’s pen paused for a fraction of a second. Then, he bent his head and continued writing furiously, as if he were transcribing a multi-billion-dollar trade secret. “Please, go on. Which porcelain urn is the security key in?” “The one on the left! Inside a little rosewood box!” my mother declared triumphantly. Gale nodded, drawing a neat circle on his notepad. He looked up, and his usually frosty face actually held a look of humble, studious concentration. “It really isn’t secure enough. No wonder she found them.” I scrambled to my feet, lunging forward to grab the pen from his hand. “Mr. Lockhart! Stop humoring her! I am calling an ambulance right now!” Gale snapped the notebook shut with one hand, gently patting my wrist away. “I’m just trying to familiarize myself with my future domestic survival environment,” he said, casting a sideways glance at me. His lips pressed together, clearly suppressing a smile. “Why are you interrupting?” My mother slammed her teacup onto the desk, splashing water over the ruined financial report. “Are you taking that tone with her again?” She stood up, planting her hands on her hips. “What’s the point of taking notes if you can’t even remember the basic rules?” She marched over to Gale, pointing a finger at the carpeted floor. “Right now. On the spot.” “Show me your standard apology pose when Cheryl gets mad at you!” Outside the executive suite, at least thirty people were pressed against the floor-to-ceiling glass doors, their faces comically distorted as they strained to see inside. Right in front of those thirty shocked faces, Gale took a few deliberate steps toward my desk. He was incredibly tall, and as he stood before me, he blocked out the fluorescent office lights. My knees shook, and I gripped the edge of my desk so hard my knuckles turned white. Just last week, he had taken over the company and immediately terminated three high-level executives. The disciplinary memos were still pinned to the main bulletin board downstairs. The general manager of our branch, who had tried to start a corporate rebellion, had been escorted out by legal representatives. Nobody in this building dared to breathe heavily around him. But now, he stood in front of me, his shoulders dropping slightly as he lowered his head. “Sweetheart, is this a good enough apology?” His voice was a low, quiet rumble, completely devoid of his usual authority. It was laced with a strange, submissive warmth. Through the thick glass doors, I could hear the collective gasp of the entire administrative wing. My foot slipped, and my knee banged hard against the metal desk leg. I shivered from the sudden ache. “No, no, no!” my mother called out, pushing herself up from the sofa. “Your attitude isn’t right!” “That’s not how you do it when you make her mad at home.” Gale turned back to my mother. Instead of losing his temper, he seemed even more intrigued. “Mom, what should I be doing instead?” My mother walked over, standing between us, and gestured with her hands. “Take off the suit jacket. Loosen your tie. Lay all those unregistered black cards on the desk yourself.” “Then, bend your knees slightly, look up at her, and focus entirely on her face to read her mood.” I threw my arms around my mother’s arm, my voice shaking uncontrollably. “Mom, please stop. Let’s go to the hospital. Let’s get your head checked, please?” She shook me off, giving me a look of pure exasperation. “Why are you acting like such a meek, submissive wife? Trust me, in the future, you have a much bigger temper than this. You lock him out of the master bedroom at the drop of a hat.” She turned back to Gale. “Son-in-law, where are the cards?” “Hand them over. Lower your posture, or she’s going to think you’re not being sincere.” With absolute compliance, Gale reached into his breast pocket, pulled out an unlimited black card, and presented it to me with both hands. “Honey, I’m handing over the card.” He leaned in closer, his dark eyes searching mine. His nose was only inches from mine. “Is this enough sincerity to earn your forgiveness?” My scalp went numb. I buried my face in my hands, sinking back down to the carpet, wishing the floor would swallow me whole. Gale straightened up, pulling out his notepad once more. “Mom, are there any other rules I should know about?” My mother beamed, pulling up a chair to sit right next to him. “Oh, there are plenty! Let me give you a quick refresher course today.” “Any liquid assets over five million require a formal proposal. If you want to spend big money on a limited-edition supercar or a yacht, you have to get her approval first. And if you ever come home from a business dinner smelling like perfume or alcohol, she won’t just lock you out of the bedroom—she’ll lock the guest room, too, and make you sleep on the library sofa!” Gale’s pen scratched against the paper. “The library sofa is a bit stiff. It’s bad for my neck. Is the guest room really off-limits?” he asked, completely earnest. “Don’t even dream about it!” my mother replied confidently. “She changes the keycode on the guest room door specifically to keep you from sneaking in!” “Clank.” Outside the glass doors, the janitor dropped her mop. She stood frozen, her mouth hanging open. The clock on the wall struck six. The moment the end-of-day chime rang, I grabbed my canvas tote bag like it was a lifeline. I seized my mother’s sleeve and dragged her toward the door. “It’s six o’clock. We’re leaving!” My mother let out an annoyed huff as she was pulled a couple of steps, but she planted her feet and called out over her shoulder: “Son-in-law, put the notepad away! Go grab your keys and drive us home!” My hand on the strap of my tote bag shook violently. Who in their right mind would treat a billionaire tycoon like a personal chauffeur? Gale closed his notepad, tucked his fountain pen back into his pocket, and picked up his Porsche key fob from the desk. He tossed it lightly in his hand. “Let’s go, Mom.” The quiet of the subterranean parking garage was broken only by the sharp echo of our footsteps. I practically shoved my mother into the back seat of the Porsche. But as I turned to slip into the back beside her, the driver’s side door opened. Gale rested one hand on the steering wheel, looking at me through the rearview mirror. “Sit up front.” I froze, holding onto the door handle as a cold sweat broke out across my back. My mother leaned forward from the backseat and shoved me in the lower back. “Your husband told you to sit in the front. What are you waiting for?” I stumbled forward, landing awkwardly in the passenger seat. I frantically pulled the seatbelt across my chest and clicked it into place. The engine purred to life, and the car glided out of the parking space. The interior of the car was suffocatingly quiet, saved only by the soft hum of the air conditioner. My mother rested her arms on the console between our seats, breaking the silence. “Son-in-law, are you laughing at me in your head? Do you think I’m just a crazy old woman?” Gale kept his eyes on the road, turning the wheel smoothly. “Mom, you worry too much.” “Don’t think I don’t know how you big-shot CEOs think,” my mother hummed. “I’ll prove to you right now that I really did come back from three years in the future.” “Tomorrow morning at nine, your company is going to announce the acquisition of Starwave Technologies, isn’t it?” “The final price isn’t the four hundred million the media is speculating. It’s three hundred and twenty-five million. And the person signing the contract on their end will be their VP, Gerald Davis.” As the numbers tumbled out of my mother’s mouth, the Porsche slowed down significantly. Gale stepped on the brake, bringing the car to a halt right before the exit barrier. He didn’t reach for the gate remote. Instead, he slowly turned his head to look at the backseat. The acquisition was a top-secret deal that he was personally finalizing tonight. There were no more than three people in the entire conglomerate who knew that exact final figure. The amusement in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sharp, probing intensity. “How do you know that figure?” My mother lifted her chin proudly, tapping the back of my seat. “I told you, I’m from the future! Cheryl found the acquisition files in your study later on, and she told me all about it.” I felt a chill run down my spine. I reached back, trying to cover my mother’s mouth. “Please stop talking! Leaking trade secrets is a federal crime!” My mother easily swiped my hand away. She had surprisingly strong reflexes for someone who had just been discharged from the hospital. “What are you so scared of, you silly girl?” she huffed. “In the future, the man is yours, the money is yours—what’s wrong with looking at a few documents?” She looked at Gale, her eyes sparkling with maternal pride. “Don’t let her quiet act fool you. She seems like a mute who can’t even raise her voice right now.” She leaned in closer to Gale. “But this girl has been lusting after you for two whole years.” Gale’s gaze slowly drifted back to my face. A wave of heat rushed to my cheeks, burning all the way to the tips of my ears. “She has this locked diary in her desk drawer, and every single page is filled with your name,” my mother continued, her voice incredibly clear in the enclosed space. My heart stopped. Deep inside my desk drawer at home, there was indeed a locked journal. Tucked between the pages were three graphite sketches. They were sketches of him from the annual gala two years ago—the way his white shirt clung to his shoulders, the clean lines of his rolled-up sleeves. I had drawn them from memory. “And she even drew a few sketches of you without a shirt,” my mother added, driving the final nail into my coffin. “She drew your abs in detail, even marking which part felt the best to touch.” My hands shook. I grabbed the door handle, desperately trying to open it, ready to throw myself onto the concrete. “Last month, she came home drunk, hugged the floor lamp in the living room, and insisted it was your leg. She was rubbing it and drooling, begging you to let her touch your abs just one more time.” The door handle wouldn’t budge. With a soft, definitive “click”, Gale engaged the child locks, sealing us inside. He shifted in his seat, resting his elbow on the center console and leaning his body toward me. His throat Bobbed as he swallowed, his low voice brushing against my ear. “Cheryl.” “I had no idea you were so wild in the future.”
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “544703”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel
Leave a Reply