The scent of stale coffee and industrial-strength cleaning fluid hit Henry's nose as he shoved Jasmin through the swinging door and into the pristine, stainless-steel expanse of the main kitchen. The quiet chime of the door closing behind them felt like the click of a locking mechanism. This was the one place in his sprawling, custom-built mansion where soundproofing and distance guaranteed true privacy.
Henry's jaw was tight, his face usually sculpted into an expression of benign authority, now contorted by venomous stress. He spun around, slamming his palm against the steel counter beside her head, though missing her by a deliberate several inches.
"You better behave yourself or you're losing a job right now!" Henry warned, his voice a low, strangled rasp that barely carried above the hum of the massive walk-in freezer.
Jasmin did not flinch. She simply tilted her head, her dark eyes glinting with a startling, almost playful malice. A slow, infuriating smile spread across her lips, the kind that communicated complete immunity. Henry knew, with a sick drop in his stomach, that she understood precisely how impossible his threat was.
"Oh yeah?" she drawled, the mockery heavy in her tone. "I had a job to do, Henry. A contract, signed and sealed, to report everything I see directly to Davina. And I love to report everything what I see right now, including the mysterious woman you're not telling me about."
Henry recoiled physically, the name "Davina" acting like an electric shock. Davina's eyes and ears, and Henry, in his arrogance, had believed he could manage her.
He let out a sharp, ragged sigh and his shoulder slumped momentarily before rage propelled him forward again. He stabbed a finger into the air just shy of her sternum, his hand trembling.
"You better watch what you're doing, you're not getting any money from us! You will work for free, got it!" His voice cracked on the last word. He was trying to assert the fundamental power structure—employer over employee—but the air filling the kitchen was thick with the scent of reverse blackmail.
Jasmin's smile became wider, predatory. "I don't care. Money is easy to find. Good gossip, however, is priceless." She leaned closer, forcing Henry to take half a step back. "I tell the world how that woman wants to have a future with you. The one who is rumored to be your other wife, your mistress. That sounds like a headline, doesn't it, Henry?"
"Stop!" The word exploded from him, echoing against the cold surfaces. It wasn't a warning; it was a plea rooted in panic.
Henry dragged his hands over his face, a gesture of deep, existential exhaustion. He had built this life—the sprawling wealth, the political ties, the seemingly unshakeable marriage—and now a woman in a perfectly pressed uniform was gleefully dismantling it brick by brick. He didn't know what play to make next. Every standard tactic of intimidation was useless against her.
Unseen by Henry, Martin, stood frozen by the main prep station, half-hidden behind a mountain of linen napkins. Martin's eyes darted frantically between the two combatants, utterly bewildered by the intensity of the domestic warfare playing out inches from his workspace. He wiped his hands uselessly on his apron, unsure if he should intervene, vanish, or simply pretend to become one with the chrome.
Jasmin, however, was clearly enjoying the performance, savoring the breakdown of Henry's pristine veneer of control.
"Stressful day, Henry?" she asked, her voice dangerously soft. "I don't even care if you care about Davina or not, it doesn't matter. I'm also not afraid of you."
Then, she delivered the final, calculated blow—a move so shocking in its cynical deployment that it was meant purely to shatter the last remnants of his dignity.
"If you dare to rape me, go on," she challenged, her eyes fixed on his. "I'm not going to stop. I'm happy to help you satisfy your sexual desires."
The air left Henry's lungs in a silent whoosh. For a man obsessed with optics and reputation, the brazenness felt like a physical assault. The threat wasn't just legally toxic; it was psychologically devastating. She was laying herself bare, not out of weakness, but as the ultimate demonstration that he had no power left—not social, not financial, and certainly not physical. She was daring him to be the monster and ruin himself completely, proving she had already won.
Henry stared at her, utterly defeated. He couldn't believe how Jasmin could be this fearless, this dangerously unmoored from conventional fear. In that moment, he realized he wasn't dealing with a panicked blackmailer; he was dealing with an agent of chaos, someone rare and terrifying.
He took a large, shaky breath, pushing himself away from the counter until a safe distance separated them. The game was called.
"Get your job done," he managed, the command devoid of force, sounding more like a defeated plea for normalcy.
He turned abruptly, his shoes squeaking on the tiled floor, and walked out of the kitchen without looking back.
As the door swung shut behind Henry, Martin slowly emerged from behind the napkins, his mouth agape. Jasmin caught his eye, gave him a small, knowing wink, then pulled a rag from her apron pocket and began calmly wiping down the section of the counter where Henry had slammed his hand. She couldn't resist. A low, soft chuckle vibrated in her chest, a secret sound of triumph over the broken King.
The hushed silence of midnight had fully enveloped the city, but within the glass-walled command center of Davina Meyer was wide awake, her resolve sharper than the fluorescent lights glinting off the polished desks. The digital clock on her monitor glowed 12:07 AM. For hours, she had been systematically dissecting every aspect of the company's operations. Files open across her desk displayed an array of bodyguard profiles, each a mosaic of skill sets, past assignments, and detailed performance reports. She wasn't merely reviewing; she was scrutinizing, searching for weaknesses, for opportunities to mold this enterprise into her own formidable vision.
Her gaze drifted to the bank of surveillance monitors lining one wall. On screen 3, the expansive training area was sparsely lit, yet two figures moved with purpose, their shadows stretching long and distorted. Henrik, a man of quiet competence and formidable physique, was sparring with Fabienne, whose movements were a blur of precise strikes and evasions. Sweat gleamed on their brows even through the grainy night vision. They were good, formidable even. Davina made a mental note beside Henrik's digital file: Consistent. Exceptional stamina. Reliable.
Before she could delve deeper into the intricacies of their technique, a chime echoed through the quiet office. A videocall. Davina glanced at the caller ID, a faint smile touching her lips. Florentin. He was currently on a business trip, likely somewhere several time zones away, yet still checking in. She answered, and his familiar, amiable face filled a corner of her screen, the background a nondescript hotel room.
"Still at the office, Davina?" Florentin chuckled, a warm, reassuring sound. "How's your experience being a boss now?"
Davina leaned back, a subtle air of triumph in her posture. "Jasmin will regret challenging me. Right now, I'm enjoying handling your employees and I have my own rules set." There was an edge in her voice, a promise of unyielding management.
Florentin's smile softened, turning a touch wry. "Don't be too hard on them, Davina. You know they can complain to me right away if you've been too strict with them."
She snorted, a dismissive sound that conveyed her opinion of such 'complaints'. "Strict? Don't treat your employees as your family too much, Florentin. Remember, they are working for money, nothing personal." Her eyes, usually cool and calculating, held a glint of steel. She believed in efficiency, not sentimentality.
"Then stop competing with Jasmin on whatever it is," Florentin urged gently, the hint of a sigh in his tone. He knew their dynamic well, a simmering rivalry that had always existed, even before Davina stepped into this temporary leadership role.
Davina sighed, a breath of frustration. "She started it, don't blame me." It was an old argument, one she had no energy to rehash. Jasmin had always been too casual, too ready to treat the company as a clubhouse rather than a precision-engineered machine. Davina intended to strip away the softness and reveal its true, unyielding strength.
"Alright, then," Florentin conceded, changing tack. "I think you need to get some rest and go home now. You need to take care of yourself, Davina." His concern was genuine, but Davina found it mildly irritating. She didn't need coddling.
"Don't worry about me, Florentin. I'm not a child anymore." Her voice was dismissive, decisive. Without waiting for a reply, she swiftly closed the video call. The screen went black, erasing Florentin's kind face, leaving Davina alone again with her thoughts and the flickering surveillance feeds.
Her attention snapped back to the monitors, specifically to Henrik and Fabienne. She saw an opportunity. Reaching for a small intercom panel on her desk, she pressed a button. "Henrik, come here please," she instructed, her voice crisp and clear, devoid of the previous conversation's underlying tension. She then switched off the button, waiting, the silence in the office deepening, broken only by the hum of the servers.
Exactly five minutes later, a soft knock preceded Henrik's entrance. He stepped into the office alone, his posture professional, his uniform still slightly damp from training. He carried himself with an innate confidence, but also an air of respectful deference. He settled into the chair opposite her, his gaze steady.
"Hello, you called me Mrs. Meyer." Henrik's voice was calm, formal, betraying no sign of fatigue despite his strenuous training session. Davina nodded, acknowledging his promptness.
"Yes, on an important matter," Davina began, her expression serious. "I am hiring you already to be my personal bodyguard. Are you available full-time?"
Henrik's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. He was excellent, but he had specific commitments. "I'm sorry, but I'm only available working part-time today. Right now I..."
Davina cut him off, her patience thin, her decision already made. "I don't care. I will assign you to work for me, but secretly monitoring Jasmin and Martin's performance. It's not that I can oversee them all day long. I'm a busy woman, you see." Her gaze was unwavering, a challenge and an expectation rolled into one. She needed eyes and ears where hers couldn't be, an extension of her will, especially concerning the individuals who represented a potential threat to her absolute control.
Henrik paused, weighing the unexpected proposition. The request was unusual, blurring the lines of his typical duties, but the tone in Davina's voice left little room for negotiation. He was a professional, and Mrs. Meyer was the boss. "Um... alright," he conceded, a faint hint of resignation in his voice. "I'll do it."
A faint, almost imperceptible curve touched Davina's lips. She had drawn another piece onto her chessboard. The game was far from over, but she was definitely gaining ground.
The obsidian gates of the Fontaine estate whispered open, gliding silently as Davina's luxury sedan rolled across the manicured drive. It was 3 AM, and the night air was cold and thin, yet a flicker of scalding anger instantly replaced her exhaustion. Curled tight near the massive carved oak entrance door, utilizing the recessed alcove for meager protection against the chill, was Jasmin.
The sight of her personal protection detail—the woman supposedly dedicated to guarding her life and assets—snoring softly on the cold granite was an unbearable insult. Davina slammed the gear stick into park inside the spacious garage and marched toward the main entrance, her expensive heels clicking sharply on the imported stone. She didn't bother using her key. Instead, she stood over the sleeping figure, radiating cold fury, and delivered a sharp, calculated kick to Jasmin's hip.
Jasmin jolted awake with a guttural groan, annoyance warring with the disorientation of deep sleep.
"Am I going to have a lazy bodyguard on duty like that?" Davina wondered, her voice tight with judgmental disappointment.
Jasmin squinted up at the harsh overhead light, rubbing the sore spot. "You're calling me lazy now? I also need rest because I am your personal bodyguard, not a babysitter to your spoiled brat daughter."
"Hey, you made a lot of bad performance including that!" Davina snapped back.
Jasmin reacted in disbelief, pushing herself up onto her elbows. "Huh? What do you think of me? A robot? Just a little nap, you won't accept it, seriously!" She scrambled to her feet, adjusting the strap of her tactical vest.
"And the way you never learn to respect me and my family is the real issue," Davina hissed, stepping back slightly, though her posture remained imperiously rigid.
"Oh, the problem is you," Jasmin retorted, the bitterness of exhaustion overriding any sense of professional decorum. "You think you're too privileged over things because you and Florentin have anything you want."
Davina sighed, a theatrical expression of superiority settling on her perfect features. "This means the company belongs to me."
That simple statement—the dismissal of all Jasmin had worked for, the utter erasure of her ambition—snapped the last thread of Jasmin's hard-won patience. Her eyes narrowed into slits of primal rage. In a movement too fast for Davina to register, Jasmin seized Davina's wrist, twisting the arm sharply behind her back. With a grunt of effort, she slammed the executive hard against the heavy oak door. Davina's breath rushed out in a sickening whoosh as her lower back impacted the unforgiving wood.
"Don't you dare try to block any opportunity for me!" Jasmin snarled, her breath hot near Davina's ear. Before Davina could process the pain, Jasmin swung her free hand, a vicious punch connecting squarely with Davina's cheekbone.
The sound of the latch turning from inside coincided perfectly with the blow. Henry, the long-suffering estate manager, pulled the door inward just as Davina, stunned and reeling, was falling. Henry caught her by the armpits, bracing her weight.
"Goodness, Jasmin, what are you..." Henry stopped himself mid-sentence, the severity of the situation—a bodyguard assaulting her employer—tempered by the chilling realization of what Jasmin was truly capable of.
Jasmin stepped back, adjusting her jacket sleeve with cold indifference. "I think you're really a great couple after all, both annoying."
"You don't deserve the company because I deserve it more," Davina gasped, clutching her face, the entitlement still burning through the pain.
"It wasn't going to belong to me, but Janina! She dreamt this for so long."
Davina managed a ragged, sarcastic laugh despite the throbbing in her face. "In your dreams. If you meant Janina Schneider, she's dead long time ago. She can't even handle herself being a bodyguard and now being so ambitious getting what she dreamt of? Oh, please."
Jasmin clenched her fist, resisting the urge to deliver the knockout punch Davina clearly deserved. "You have no idea who she is. Anyways, being your bodyguard means I'm also protecting your things and personal stuff now, from now on."
Ignoring Davina and Henry, Jasmin spotted the pristine white silk blazer Davina had been wearing just moments before, now crumpled on the granite near the garage entrance. Believing it held important documentation or a specific electronic key she needed, Jasmin snatched it up. She shoved past Henry, who was still cradling the injured Davina, and stomped into the foyer.
Davina screamed, the rage finally erupting as she struggled against Henry's grip. "Get out of my house! That is my property!"
But Jasmin was already gone, her heavy boots disappearing down the marble hallway, a thief in the night, leaving only the sharp scent of violence and the deafening echo of contempt in the silent, wealthy air.
Jasmin run off to Davina's room throw the blazer and see Henrik's files that he was recently get hired, however she act to play smoothly and ignore it. Then Davina came to barge in to her room and get mad at her.
"Is this how you're going to play your game with me!" Davina was more disappointed seeing her blazer thrown to her mattress.
"Come on, you're now angry because of your piece of blazer!" Jasmin sarcastically sighs and instead Davina slaps her.
"Stop being stubborn and do your job properly, or you will get fired immediately! Right now."
"Calm down relax, you should be thankful how I am loyal to my duty and that's how I am loyal to my best friend." Jasmin said.
Davina sighs in defeat. "Don't make me fire you this instant, you will regret it later."
As Davina gets her blazer and leave for a while, Jasmin makes face on her secretly, she was been annoyed just seeing her face.
From the next day, Sidel woke up to a house bustling with visitors. Judith's family had arrived in droves, filling the rooms with laughter and chatter. Walter, her uncle, seemed to be in his element, delighted to introduce Sidel to everyone who had come to celebrate.
"I wish your mother would come home, Judith, and I were so thrilled to share the news with you too," Walter said, his voice warm and cheerful.
Sidel raised an eyebrow, curiosity piquing within her. "What is it with everyone around here, Uncle?" she wondered aloud, but she couldn't resist the festive atmosphere. She joined the celebration, making her way to the dining room where Judith's family had gathered for lunch.
Walter trailed behind Sidel, taking a seat next to her. Judith, seated in her wheelchair across the table, wore a radiant smile that seemed to light up the room. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at Walter, clearly enjoying the lively gathering.
"So, what's the news?" Sidel asked, her anticipation building. Judith's smile widened as she held up her hand, showcasing a beautiful engagement ring that glimmered in the light.
"I was supposed to wait for Walter to share this with your mom, but I think she will be very busy," Judith said, her tone filled with excitement.
Sidel's heart sank slightly at the mention of her mother. "You don't have to expect her at all. When it comes to her, she has a lot of priorities," she replied, trying to mask her disappointment with a casual shrug.
"Don't worry, we can let Jasmin know this great news," Walter chimed in, his optimism infectious. Sidel appreciated his effort to bridge the gap between her mother and the joyous occasion, even if she felt a lingering sadness about her mother's absence.
As the conversation shifted, Walter and Judith began to reunite with the children, their laughter ringing out as they prepared to dive into dessert. Sidel watched them, a mix of emotions swirling within her. She was happy for Judith but couldn't shake the feeling of longing for her mother's presence amidst the celebration.
The dessert table was a sight to behold—cakes, pastries, and colorful treats that beckoned everyone closer. Judith's family gathered around, their chatter once more filling the air with warmth. Sidel took a deep breath, allowing herself to be swept up in the joyful chaos, if only for a moment.
Walter, sensing Sidel's lingering detachment, leaned closer. "You know, Sidel, family is always here, even if one person is missing. We celebrate together, and we share our lives together. That's what matters most."
Sidel nodded, grateful for his words. She knew he was right, and as the laughter surrounded her, she felt a flicker of joy ignite within. Perhaps, in this moment, she could find solace in the company of Judith's family and the love they shared, even in the absence of her mother.
As the afternoon unfolded, Sidel allowed herself to savor each moment, realizing that sometimes, the best memories are made when you least expect them.
Jasmin stirred awake on the bench, the soft rustle of leaves above her blending with the distant hum of the morning. The vibrant colors of the garden surrounded her, yet her mind was already shifting gears—back to duty, back to vigilance. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and swung her legs over the side of the bench, feeling the cool earth beneath her feet.
With a sigh, she headed toward the garden hose, the sun glinting off the metal nozzle. It had been a long night, but there was no time for lingering fatigue. She turned the water on, letting the cool stream wash away the remnants of sleep. As she splashed her face, she felt the refreshing spray invigorate her senses. A glance at her reflection in a nearby puddle reminded her that she needed to look presentable, at least as much as a bodyguard could.
Using the last remnants of her soap bar, she dabbed it onto her custom-made lipstick. It was a quirky habit, but one that she found effective. Jasmin chuckled to herself as she recalled how she'd been using the same bar for both purposes—an oddity she never thought would become part of her morning routine. With her bare hands, she scrubbed at her ears, ensuring she was clean and ready for whatever the day might throw her way.
From a distance, the maid watched Jasmin with a furrowed brow. Her concern was palpable as she approached with cautious steps. "You can always take a shower at the restroom," she offered, her voice laced with genuine worry.
Jasmin turned off the hose and wiped her hands on her shorts. "No need," she replied with a wave of dismissal. "It's not necessary for me. I can go home and take a shower myself. First, I need to make sure I smell fresh."
The maid sighed, still unconvinced. To her, Jasmin's unorthodox methods seemed reckless, but she understood the fierce independence that came with being a bodyguard. Jasmin was a warrior in her own right, tackling the world with determination even in the simplest of tasks.
As the sun continued to rise, casting golden hues across the garden, Jasmin took a deep breath, inhaling the fragrant blossoms that surrounded her. This was her sanctuary, her moment of peace before the storm of duty began. The day ahead promised challenges, but she was ready—ready to protect, ready to serve, and most importantly, ready to be herself.