Chapter 4
My job as the special senior consultant for family affairs was going surprisingly well.
The standard operating procedures I set for the Kingston family were meticulous to the point of being over the top.
For example, at 7:05 AM, Charles must drink 300 ml of water at 45 degrees Celsius. And at 9 PM, Ben must complete 20 minutes of eye massage with the massager set to medium vibration.
To my surprise, both Charles and Ben actually followed these routines.
The Kingston family's life was back on track. With everything standardized, it was even more organized than when I was around.
But honestly, all this order made the place feel weirdly robotic.
My friends joked that I was savage, turning living, breathing humans into robots running on routines.
But in my eyes, this was the best kind of payback for a control freak like Charles. He wanted everything under control? Fine, I'd let him have all the control he could ever want.
That day, I was at a trendy new restaurant, out with this puppy-type guy I had met. His name was Sunny Evans, a fresh college grad, bright and cheerful, with two adorable dimples every time he smiled.
He kept calling me so intimately, and honestly, it made my heart flutter.
"Olivia, try this. It's their signature dish," Sunny said, carefully placing a piece of foie gras on my plate.
I smiled and thanked him, but as I was about to take my first bite, I suddenly felt someone watching me with an icy gaze.
I glanced up and, sure enough, there were Charles and Ben standing a short distance away.
Both of them were dressed to the nines in tailored suits. Ben even had on a bow tie. Together, they looked like they were headed to some exclusive upper-crust event.
My heart did a little flip. What were they doing here?
Charles's gaze was as cold and precise as a surgeon's scalpel, cutting between me, Sunny, and the foie gras on my plate.
Ben adjusted his little glasses, giving Sunny a thorough once-over. Then he leaned in to Charles and said, in a voice loud enough for half the restaurant to hear.
"Dad, judging by his face and the way he flicked his wrist, handing over the menu, this so-called rival probably doesn't even have a seven-figure net worth. No threat at all."
I fell silent.
Sunny was left speechless.
The other diners all turned to stare at us.
I was so embarrassed.
Charles strode over, his long legs eating up the distance. He didn't even look at me, just reached out to Sunny with that fake, business-deal smile. He said, "Hello, I'm Olivia's ex-husband, Charles Kingston."
He made sure to put extra emphasis on the word ex-husband.
Sunny froze for a second, but still stood up politely and shook his hand. He replied, "Hi, I'm Sunny Evans, Olivia's friend."
"Friend?" Charles arched an eyebrow. "Olivia doesn't really do friends. She's all about the money. So, how much are you paying her every month to have dinner with you?"
Sunny's face went ghostly pale.
I slammed my fork down on the table and shot to my feet.
"Charles, are you out of your mind?" I snapped.
"Me? I'm out of my mind?" Charles spun around, his eyes practically on fire. "Olivia, your daily routine doesn't mention you sneaking out at night for some side gig."
I was so furious I couldn't even speak. Seriously? In his mind, having dinner with someone counted as a side gig?
"Dad," Ben said calmly, tugging at Charles's sleeve, "keep your cool. According to section three of the Family SOPs, causing a scene in public counts as a major violation."
Charles took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He loosened his tie, pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, and slapped it down on the table.
"Olivia, here's a new contract," Charles said. "We get remarried. Your role was a lifetime honorary partner for the Kingston family, with absolute authority over everything at home. You set the salary."
I looked at the paper—crammed with so many details it could've passed for a corporate business plan. Absurd didn't begin to cover it.
"Charles," I met his gaze and spoke slowly, "do you really believe everything in this world can be quantified, tagged with a price, and written into a contract?"
He didn't say a word, but his eyes asked, "Wasn't it?"
I grabbed the paper and ripped it into pieces right in front of him.
"Let me make this clear, Mr. Kingston," I said, "I'm not for sale."