Sir, this is your lunch, Juliet said, placing the tray carefully in front of him.
Take it away. I don't want it.
Sir… you have to eat. It's part of my job to take care of you.
James' jaw tightened. For a moment, he didn't move. Then suddenly, he snatched the spoon, scooped the food, and shoved it into his mouth.
One spoon.
Two.
Three.
His grip on the spoon tightened.
Take this away. It's horrible.
Juliet stared at him… then a soft laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it.
It's horrible, yet you took the first spoon… the second… and the third, she said, folding her arms. Enjoy your meal, sir.
She turned and walked out before he could respond.
James' eyes followed her, dark and unreadable. The spoon clattered against the plate.
—
Juliet stood in the kitchen, sorting through utensils with slightly trembling hands when her phone rang.
Amanda.
She quickly picked up.
Amanda, how are you?
How are you doing, Sister Juliet? Amanda's voice was strained. The landlord came again… he's asking for his money.
Juliet closed her eyes, gripping the edge of the counter.
Oh my God… Amanda, where do you expect me to get that kind of money? I don't have anything right now. But I'll try… I promise I'll try.
There was a pause. A heavy one.
Then—
How much do you need?
Juliet froze.
That voice…
It wasn't from the phone.
Slowly, she turned.
James was at the kitchen entrance, his wheelchair angled toward her, his eyes fixed on her like he had been listening for a while.
I said, how much do you need?
Juliet's throat went dry.
I… I…
How much do you owe your landlord?
His voice was calm, but there was something sharp underneath it.
Five hundred dollars, she whispered.
James didn't respond immediately. He simply stretched out his phone toward her.
Put your account number.
Juliet hesitated.
Her fingers trembled as she took the phone.
Sir, I—
Put it in.
His tone cut through her words.
Silently, she typed and handed the phone back.
A second later—
Her phone beeped.
Juliet glanced at it.
Then froze.
Her eyes widened. Her breath caught.
Two million dollars.
Her knees gave way, and she dropped in front of him.
Thank you… thank you so much, sir—God will bless you—I'll pay my landlord right now—
That settles your problem.
His voice was cold.
I don't want to see you again.
The words hit harder than the money.
Juliet slowly looked up.
Sir… what do you mean?
You heard me.
Silence stretched between them.
Then Juliet swallowed, forcing strength into her voice.
With all due respect, sir… you didn't employ me.
Your mother did. So you don't get to dismiss me.
She stood up, still shaken but holding her ground.
Thank you… again. I'll settle the rent.
For a brief second, something flickered in James' eyes—anger… or something deeper.
Juliet turned and walked out.
James remained there, unmoving.
His hands clenched on the wheels.
Then, slowly, he pushed himself backward out of the kitchen, the faint sound of the wheelchair echoing in the silence.