Marrying the Billionaire's Rebel Son

Anita's Point of View

For us, overseas workers, nothing could be more exciting than going home. Being away from our family had never been easy, but it was better that way than to cry in hopelessness when something went wrong and you couldn't do anything about it.

Three years was my contact as a kitchen assistant at Martin's mansion in Cherry Hills Village, Colorado. It was all a stroke of luck when I got picked by the agency to be a servant and later chosen to be the assistant of our boss' chef, Ms. Linda Peters.

My experience as a kitchen helper at the school canteen where I studied college was something they saw in my resume for me to be assigned to the kitchen. Something I never thought would push me into that position because it was only a part-time job for me while I was studying to help me with school expenses.

I was only twenty-one when I accepted the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity from an agency that went to our province, Tanay, Rizal. I spent two of my birthdays away from my family and within a month I could finally go home.

As days went by, I couldn't hide the overflowing excitement I was feeling every single day, but everything suddenly became a rollercoaster ride of happiness and sorrow. Who could ever think that in one month, I would be able to meet not just one, but three people who would turn my world upside-down?

***

Sunday morning and I was on my day off. I went to the church to attend a mass and before returning to the mansion, I decided to go to the supermarket to buy more things I would be putting into the box I would be sending to the Philippines.

Bottles of shampoo, boxes of soap, and packs of chocolates. I planned on sending one large balik-bayan box as my pasalubong three weeks before my flight because the box would take a month before it arrived at its destination. However, I needed a box to measure how much stuff I still needed to gather.

"Excuse me," I waved at one of the staff at the supermarket and approached her. "Sorry to bother you, I just want to ask if I can find a large carton box here?" I asked her immediately because she seemed to be in a rush.

She looked at me with confusion. "What kind of box exactly? I mean where you will be using it?"

"I'll need it to send a package," I replied.

"We don't sell the box you're looking for. You can get a box to the courier company you want your package to handle," he informed me.

I knew about it, but I needed a box to measure how much I still needed to buy to fill a huge one. I thought for a moment. "Okay, thank you for your time."

"You're welcome," she answered, but when I was about to go to the cashier to pay, I heard someone calling behind me. When I looked back to check who the person was calling, I realized it was me.

She approached me with a smile and said, "I asked my supervisor, we have boxers at the storage. I can give you the size you are looking for for free before they throw those away."

"Oh, wow! Thank you!" She was an angel. My problem with the box was solved.

She told me to pay first to the cashier and meet her in the alley of the sweets treats where she was assigned. The box was kind of heavy even though it was flattened and I still had to assemble it. For a five-foot-two-inches-tall, petite woman like me to carry, that was quite heavy, but that was the size I needed so I needed to carry it myself.

I realized it was not a good idea I bought so much bath soap and bottles of shampoo that day. It made it harder for me to walk because I had something else to carry to the spot where I could get a taxi.

People were staring at me while I was struggling. Some of them offered help, but I refused because I felt so independent that day.

I tried countless times to call a taxi, but drivers kept ignoring me. It took me a couple of minutes of waiting until an old pickup truck suddenly stopped in front of me and an American guy who seemed around my age sitting in the driver's seat rolled his window.

"Do you need a ride?" he asked.

His metallic blue eyes were mesmerizing to stare at. The pointy nose was quite intimidating with my small nose. I could say he was a good-looking man, but I didn't want to be deceived by those pleasant features.

I got scared deep inside because there was a lot of news about missing women every day. I had recently watched a documentary about a handsome guy who m*rd*red numerous individuals and most of those were women.

"N-No, thank you," I answered politely, immediately looking away as I expected him to leave after that.

"Come on, my dad is a sheriff. I'm not a bad person." I heard him say, but who cares? He could be lying.

"My name is Adam Cassidy. This is my license," He even introduced himself without me asking.

I looked at him and saw he was raising his driver's license for me to see, but I was not convinced although I was honestly shocked by the way he wanted to prove he was not like those people in my head at that time, but-

"They won't let you ride a taxi with that huge carton box, young lady. You need to fold it and end up ruining it if so," he said, just to convince me.

He was right, though. It had been half an hour since I tried calling a taxi, but none of them stopped to give me a ride.

I suddenly thought of what he said. Fold it in half, or maybe a quarter, however, I might end up ruining it. What I also worried about was the dark clouds forming. It seemed it would rain any moment and I should return to the mansion before it gets dark.

"Come on. It could rain soon," I heard the guy say after he caught me looking at the sky.

I looked at him, searching for a sign that he was not a good person, but I didn't know what had gotten into my head to bluntly ask him this, "Are you sure you're not a serial killer?" It made him chuckle. I bit my lower lip and bowed my head because if I was wrong, it was a shame on my part to jump to that kind of conclusion.

"Hey, Lory!" I got stunned and raised my head to check who he was calling. A woman who had just come out of the door of a coffee shop not far from where I stood stopped and searched around to see who was calling her name.

"Lory!" The guy, who introduced himself as Adam shouted a name again. The woman saw him at this time, and she stepped forward after recognizing who was inside the truck.

A sweet bright smile formed on his lips. "Yes, Adam? What can I do for you, sweetheart?" the woman asked sweetly.

"Can you answer this woman's question for me?" he politely requested as he pointed his finger toward me.

"What is it she's asking?" the woman inquired. The smile on her lips became wider, and it seemed she had something silly on her mind.

"Well, she's asking me if I am a serial killer," he replied, and he couldn't contain his laughter, making his face turn red while he chuckled.

The woman, whom she called Lory, laughed along with him. I bowed my head out of shame because I was the one they were laughing at.

"Oh, lady. Believe me, that guy couldn't even kill a fly. He's a good boy," I heard her say.

I raised my head and looked at the guy inside the truck. "See?" the man proudly uttered when he caught my eyes.

"He won't harm you, but be careful; he knows how to bite. Rawr!" she later added before proceeding with her job.

"Hey! I won't try doing that. Take that back, Lory!"

"Haha! I'm just kidding. By the way, he's single!" Lory teasingly said, winking at me before going back inside the coffee shop after taking the cup the customer left on the table.

"Come on, let me help you before the rain starts pouring," the guy uttered, and he got out of the vehicle.

I felt I had no choice at that time, but to come with him. When he was right before me asking me to give him the carton box, I saw his shirt and pants were covered with paint. Even rubber shoes had dried cement.

I suddenly remember my father who used to be a regular construction worker in our country. He mostly came home like how Adam looked that day, but it was Sunday and that guy still went to work.

I gave him the carton box and put it behind his truck. He went back and helped me with the shopping bags afterward by putting them in the passenger seat. Once done, Adam opened the door for me like a gentleman.

"Oh, sorry!" He stopped me from getting in when he saw the seat was dusty. He immediately grabbed a shirt lying on the dashboard and wiped it using it. "There, it's clean now," he said when he was done.

"Thank you!" It was quite impressive because I had been believing in these modern days, there were no such things anymore. Just like what they said, chivalry was d*ad.

"Seatbelt, please," and I did what he said right before he closed the door on my side.

"Where are we heading, madam?" he asked when he was already in the driver's seat while putting on his seatbelt.

"A-at Mr. Martin's residence," I answered. He turned his head to look at me like he heard something unbelievable.

"You mean at William Scott-Martin's mansion?" he inquired with so much disbelief written on his face. "Are you working there?"

"Y-yes... and yes." I wasn't surprised at all by his reaction. My boss was well-known, but what he said next made me think of jumping out of the vehicle.

"You know what? Mr. William's son is my mortal enemy." I saw a grin on the side of his lips. Noticeable enough for me to feel uncomfortable in my seat.

He started the engine. "But don't worry, that won't make us enemies."

That didn't even help. The fear he made me feel didn't decrease at all. I want to believe he won't ask me to pay for Sir Lennon's sin because I have nothing to do with their problems.

As the vehicle started moving, Adam's eyes got fixed on the road, but he never stopped talking, telling me stories, even though I didn't give him any feedback.

I would admit that the way he talked was entertaining. He made me listen, even though those stories were random, and he kept jumping from one story to another as he remembered them.

My eyes were on the road, but I was observing him through my periphery. I couldn't keep up with the amount of energy he had. He was such a jolly and energetic person. Quite a good combination for a good-looking man like him and I couldn't help but feel sorry because I misjudged him.

His voice was changing, and there were times he tried mimicking the voices of cartoon characters. My inner child was delighted to hear familiar voices in my childhood memories especially when I heard Doramon's voice.

When he got tired, he opened the radio. A familiar song played and he started singing along. His voice was calming and I didn't notice I was already smiling as I listened to him.

The car stopped. I thought something was wrong with his truck, but when I looked outside through the window, I saw the entrance gate of the Martin's Mansion. I didn't even notice we had already reached it because of all the entertainment he provided throughout our journey.

"Here, take this." I handed him a twenty-dollar bill, but he refused to take it.

"Just keep that money. You might need it more than I do," he insisted.

He went out of the vehicle and I followed through. He took the carton box behind the truck and placed it near the gate. I opened the door of the passenger seat and took all the shopping bags, but when he saw me struggling, he immediately rushed to help me.

I followed him on the side of the road and I pulled another bill. I thought maybe it was too small for him. I wasn't being arrogant. I used his time and gasoline so it's not bad to repay those that way.

"Here, please take this."

"No! You don't have to." He stepped backward when I was about to put the bills I folded in his hand.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I didn't help you get paid. Just keep that money," he replied while smiling sweetly at me.

He was tall, so I needed to look up when talking to him. "Thank you then. I owe you one."

"N-No really, it's fine... but who knows, maybe we could see each other again, and I might need your help by that time."

"You're right. That's a fair deal." He finally convinced me. I put the bills back inside my sling bag before picking up the shopping bags.

"You're cute." My eyes widened when I heard this compliment. He pats my head before turning his back on me. I felt like a dog getting a pat that way, and all I could do was narrow my eyes as I watched him walk away.

As I reached the servants' quarter, I immediately changed my clothes and assembled the carton box I had brought. I secured it by covering it with packaging tape, starting from the bottom to the top and from side to side. I made myself busy with that box when the sixty-three-year-old Mexican-American chef of the mansion, Ms. Linda Peters suddenly arrived.

"W-what are you trying to do with that?" I was startled when she suddenly spoke behind me.

I stopped what I was doing and looked at her with a smile. She pushed the door wide open and walked in while speaking, "I thought something happened to you! One of the servants told me you came back early."

Ms. Peters seemed so worried.

"W-what made you think so? I may be shorter and petite than Ms. Peters, but I could break a neck," I jokingly told her, but if only she knew how scared I was when Adam asked me for a ride, for sure she would laugh out loud.

"You're small enough and easy to carry, my dear Anita," she sarcastically replied.

"Ouch! That's so harsh of you." I pouted. She hurt my feelings, but she didn't seem worried at all with the way she laughed.

"By the way, Ms. Peters, do you know a sheriff with the surname Cassidy around here?"

She stopped laughing and thought for a few seconds before answering my query. "I know a guy. Gary Cassidy. He's the chief of police here, one of William's good friends. Why?" This made me confused.

"There's a guy who gave me a ride a while ago; he introduced himself as the son of a sheriff. I thought he was a bad guy, but the server from a coffee shop convinced me he was not the person I thought him to be," I answered.

"Oh, does that young man happen to have metallic blue eyes and his name is Adam?"

"Y-yeah... that was the same name he gave me."

"Did he also tell you that he is Lennon's mortal enemy?"

"Y-yes, he did, but how did you...?" Ms. Peters made me more confused.

"That silly boy," she murmured, and she went back on laughing.

Ms. Peters couldn't contain her laughter. I was intrigued by the guy's identity and how many connections he has with the Martins.

It made me think-maybe he lied to me.

I wanted to ask Ms. Peters about him, but the ringing of my cell phone sitting on top of my bed just behind me abruptly diverted my attention.

It was an overseas call coming from my younger brother, Felipe, in the Philippines. I pressed the green button on the screen right away and heard my brother's anxious voice. "Hey, what happened?" I asked him in Filipino.

"W-we rushed Papa to the hospital. He lost consciousness on our way here, and until now, he's still asleep." My whole body felt cold right after hearing the news. My brother's voice trembled as he spoke, and I could hear cries from the background that I knew were my mother.

I sat on the bed because my knees felt like jelly. I suddenly thought about my other sibling, Mara. "Where is Mara?"

"She went out with her friend for a weekend and she hadn't been home yet," Felipe answered.

I couldn't help but sigh. Of the three of us, she had been the one who loved to hang out with friends, but after what happened to our father, she had to hurry back home no matter where she went.

I shifted the question for me not to get pissed. I asked Felipe what happened before Papa lost consciousness. He explained to me what happened and my tears were on the verge of falling as I listened. Our mother's cries were getting louder and I could sense hopelessness in her, so I told my younger brother to let me talk to her for a while.

"Ma?" I called her. "Papa will be fine. I know the doctors will do everything to make him feel better." She didn't answer, but I could hear her cries.

"Papa only lost consciousness, Ma. He isn't d*ad, yet for you to cry like that. He would wake up sooner once his body gathered enough oxygen it needed." I tried-I tried my best to comfort her, but she seemed to be feeling dramatic that day.

Although my voice was shaky, I told her that she didn't have anything to worry about because Papa would be fine, even though I knew there were so many things to think about yet and we hadn't heard about the reason why he had trouble breathing.

I stayed on the phone, letting her sob until a doctor arrived. "My phone doesn't have enough charge, sis. I will just update you after the doctor gave us the results of the test they did to Papa," Felipe told me.

He ended the call. I wanted to request to keep the call going so I could hear whatever the doctor would say, but my tears were about to fall, and my chest felt like bursting.

I bit my lower lip as I put my phone next to me on the bed. My chest was tightening as emotions stirring up inside me were about to burst out. It felt like a massive lump in my throat was choking me and if I didn't let it out, I would lose air and faint.

My chin started trembling. I covered my mouth because I knew it was the only option to hide it. When the first drop of tears rolled down my cheek, I immediately lowered my head as I covered my face with both of my hands.

I heard Ms. Peters calling my name, but I didn't answer. "A-Anita?" I heard her again, by this time, she was closer.

"What happened?" she asked worriedly. She sat next to me and without any word, she pulled me close and let me cry on her warm embrace.

It took me a few minutes before I calmed down. Ms. Peters gently caressed my back like a baby she was trying to put to sleep after crying so hard.

"W-what happened, Anita?" she repeated her question. Her embrace loosened and he waited for me to speak up, however, before I could even say a word, my phone vibrated because of a message.

I grabbed it to check the message and saw it was from Felipe. As I scanned my eyes on the screen, my tears started streaming down again.

"What is happening to you?" Ms. Peters' worried voice made me sob louder. I was shaking and couldn't contain all the emotions I was feeling at that time.

For the second time, Ms. Peters pulled me close to her. I wrapped my arms around her and felt how she tightened her hug to make me feel I was not alone.

My father had lung cancer. It was already in stage 4, according to the doctor. The physician immediately suggested chemotherapy and immunotherapy to see how his cancer cells would react to the procedure. If it didn't show a positive response in his body, we might lose him in no time.

When I returned to my composure, I told Ms. Peters what happened.

"You can take a day off today. William went out of the country, so we wouldn't need to prepare food for him in a few days," she told me.

I was also unsure if I could work with that kind of state of mind so I did what she said as I waited for updates from my brother.

As the days rapidly passed, all the phone calls I received from my siblings bothered me so much. My energetic and jolly father slowly lost his strength, and his weight dropped as he lost his hair because of the side effects of chemotherapy.

Papa stayed in the hospital for weeks, and another call from my family back home pushed me to decide to sell the land I bought, where I planned to build my dream house once I returned.

The rapid increase in bills we needed to pay took all my savings into my bank account. Ms. Peters had already given me a tremendous amount of help, which I initially insisted on taking. A thousand dollars was huge, but she convinced me that was nothing compared to my problem. I was thankful enough that my father's condition was getting better. After more than three weeks in the hospital, the doctor finally let him go home and only came back when it was time for another chemo.

That was the best news I had heard in my life, even though I had debts in the bank after I decided to take out a loan to pay all the bills in the hospital. It was such a relief for me, but when I realized what I would be facing next made me weak.

I needed to pay the loan every month, along with my father's medicine and his chemotherapies so I already had an idea how expensive they were. I still needed to give them money for their needs and my two siblings who were both studying, but what was worse than that, I needed to go home in a week because my working visa would expire soon.