Chapter 2Dad Is My Sugar Daddy

It took less than a week for Ava to start questioning her decision.

I was the kind of person who ate fermented tofu on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and slurped down pungent snail noodles on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

That particular Tuesday, a smell like the city's entire sewer system had exploded permeated the open-plan office.

Ava clicked past on her designer heels, her brow furrowed so deeply you could lose a pen in there.

She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lip twitching in a sarcastic smirk.

"Enjoying that, are we?"

My mouth was too full to reply, so I just gave her a huge thumbs-up while continuing to devour my lunch. This place was the best!

Ava's eye twitched. Without another word, she spun on her heel and stalked away.

Chloe, the woman in the next cubicle, couldn't take it anymore. She rolled her chair over, pushing her glasses up her nose.

"Gigi," she whispered, "call me crazy, but I think she was hinting that you shouldn't eat things with such a… potent aroma in the office. It's affecting the, uh, work environment."

I finally tore my gaze from my bowl, my expression one of righteous indignation.

"No way! She's the boss. If she didn't want me to eat it, she'd just say so. Why would she beat around the bush?"

Chloe fell silent. She looked at me the way you'd look at a fluffy kitten right before it's scheduled to be neutered.

To prove my point, the next day at noon, I ordered the exact same snail noodles for Ava, thoughtfully requesting "mild spice."

When the delivery guy hung that fragrant, steaming bowl on her office doorknob, a hush fell over the entire company.

Everyone held their breath, waiting for the explosion.

But it never came.

Ava didn't yell at me, but she didn't thank me either. The day passed in an unnervingly calm silence.

The only difference was that the trash can in her office was overflowing with tissues, and the water cooler level seemed to drop at an alarming rate.