Slave Of The CEO

*Lyra's POV*

I was walking along the side of the road with my headset plugged into my ears. It was only 5:30 in the morning, and here I was, walking under the moonlight.

Okay, joke.

I'm walking because we don't have a car. Why? Because we're POOR HUMAN BEINGS.

I'm heading to work at the bookstore. It's close to where my family and I live-close enough that if you walk like a turtle, you'll get there in an hour. If The Flash is your cousin, maybe half a second. But if you're a normal person with a normal brain like me, you'll get there in fifteen minutes.

By the way, I'm Lyra Sandoval-the only goddess in our family.

Just kidding. Of course my mom and my youngest sister are goddesses too. We're all goddesses.

Do you want to hear my life story?

Don't. You'll probably get bored.

But of course, I'm still going to tell you.

I'm Lyra Sandoval, 25 years old, and I didn't finish school. I was still in high school when I had to stop studying because we ran out of money. That was the time I decided to work to help my family. All I knew was that I had to find a job as soon as possible so I could earn money for our daily needs-especially for my father's food and medicine back then.

I was in first year highschool when I found out my father had a serious illness. He had heart disease. That was when I became even more determined to work, even though my body was already exhausted. I was terrified of losing him.

Even when I was struggling, I didn't stop working because I wanted to support his needs. His illness slowly consumed his once-healthy body until he was just lying in bed, struggling to breathe and speak. We owed so much money just for his medicines because my income was never enough.

Even when the doctor told us there was no hope for him to recover, I still tried everything. I bought all the medicines he needed just to prolong his life. But I guess... that was really his time.

Two years ago, he left us forever.

It was hard to accept. He was our only father-the kind of father who, no matter how difficult life became, still smiled and gave hope. The kind of father every child dreams of: supportive, kind, and loving.

Two years ago, we also lost the land my father inherited from his parents. We sold the land and our house in the province just to pay off our debts. That was when we moved to Manila to start a new life. Now, we rent a small apartment. It's enough for the three of us.

Life here is... okay. Very different from the province. In Manila, when you walk outside, you'll definitely smell smoke from all the vehicles passing by. Good thing I walk early in the morning-I don't inhale too much of it.

When my father died, I promised at his grave that I would take care of my mom and Riri. My mom stays at home now. I told her she didn't have to work anymore-I'd handle everything. She worked long enough for us. Now it's my turn to be their guardian angel.

My sister Riri is in third year highschool and studying at a private school here in Manila. Want to know why?

She inherited my luck. She got a full scholarship.

That's why Mom and I are so proud of her. And I know my father would be too. Even if he's no longer here, I believe he's watching over us from heaven.

BEEP!

"MY MOTHER OF MY FATHER'S SON!" I screamed.

What the hell?! Who is this bastard creature who has the nerve to blow the horn that loudly when I'm clearly on the side of the road?! What if I died of shock? Who would work for my family then?!

Ugh! This person is really trying to fascinate my temper!

"Hey-"

"Lyra!"

"J-Jerome? It's you," I said, letting out a small breath to calm myself.

"You're going to work, right?"

"Yes. Why?" I asked.

"Me too. Let's go."

"Ah... okay," I said and waited for him to start the car.

"What are you still doing there? Let's go," he said.

"Yeah, yeah. You're the slow one," I teased.

"I mean-ride with me. Get in the car. I'm heading there too," he said, opening the door beside the driver's seat.

I smiled ear to ear. Free ride. Survival mode activated.

"Thank you," I said as I got into his car.

His car smelled... manly. Clean. Expensive. Rich people energy.

"Do you walk every day?" he asked as he started driving toward the bookstore.

"Yes," I answered, staring out the window.

More people were walking now. Cars filled the road. Everyone rushing to work or school. This was the usual scene every morning.

You already know where I work-I work at a bookstore. And lucky me, Jerome is the owner of that bookstore.

"Why don't you just take a taxi?" he asked, curious.

"It saves money if I walk. And besides, your bookstore is close to where we live," I replied.

"As a matter of fact..." he said, "do you want me to pick you up every time you go to work?"

I nearly broke my neck turning to look at him.

"And why would you do that?" I asked.

"Nothing. Just... helping," he said with a laugh, eyes focused on the road.

"No need, Jer. I can manage," I said proudly, which only made him laugh more.

"You're really stubborn. Anyway, are you going to the bar later?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Nothing. Just making sure. Let's go together. I'll pick you up."

After my shift at Jerome's bookstore, I hurried home because I might be late for my next job. Right now, I have two jobs. In the morning, I work at Jerome's bookstore from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. After that, I work at the bar from 7 p.m. until midnight.

If you think about it, what I'm doing is exhausting. But with our situation in life, I don't even feel tired anymore. My body has gotten used to working multiple jobs.

At the bar, I work as a waitress. Jerome, on the other hand, is the leader of the band that plays there.

"Here you are, Lyra," my mother greeted me as I entered the small apartment we were renting.

When you open the door, you'll immediately see the tiny living room with two chairs and a small TV. From there, you can also see the kitchen, the bathroom door, and the dining table. We only have one bedroom, but thankfully, it's big enough for my mother, my sister, and me.

I walked up to Mom and took her hand, pressing it against my forehead. We've been doing this since Riri and I were little. Mom and Dad always reminded us to show respect to them and to elders.

"Yes, I'm going to the bar today," I told her while taking a glass of water and drinking it in one go.

Walking really makes you thirsty.

"Is that so? Eat first before you leave. You're always going out on an empty stomach. Wait for the dish I'm cooking-it'll be ready soon," she said before returning to the stove.

"That smells delicious," I said, praising her cooking.

She was making milkfish porridge. Her cooking has always been good, so I never wonder where I got my talent for loving good food.

"That's why you're eating with us today," she said.

"Of course, Mom. Where's Riri? Has that girl come home yet?" I asked.

"She's in the bedroom, finishing her projects. You should take a bath first while the food isn't ready yet."

"All right."

I picked up my bag from the table and went to our room. As soon as I opened the door, I saw my younger sister lying on the bed with a book in her hands.

"Are you too busy?" I asked, making her look up.

She seemed surprised to see me.

"Sis! Sorry, I didn't notice you. I was too focused on reading," she said as she adjusted her glasses.

Her eyesight isn't that bad-she only wears glasses at night, especially when reading books thicker than our landlady.

Ugh. That old woman is really something else. I always frown when I see her.

"It's fine. Mom's almost done cooking. Go to the dining table," I told her.

"Aren't you eating with us? You always leave right after getting home," she said with a frown that made me smile.

"Don't worry, little sis. I'll eat with you today. I'll just take a quick shower."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

She closed her book and quickly left the room, probably to help Mom. I grabbed a towel before stepping out too. We weren't rich, so we didn't have a bathroom inside the bedroom-but that didn't mean we didn't have one. It was just outside.

When I went out, Mom was still busy cooking.

"Why is it taking so long to cook, Mom?" I asked while taking my toothbrush from the pouch near the sink.

"This charcoal burns slowly, darling. It's not like the firewood we used back in the province," she replied.

"It's okay, Mom. I'll take a bath first."

"Tomorrow, Mom, I'll give you the money for the rent," I said while chewing my food.

"Don't. Keep that money for yourself for now. I still have some left from your aunt abroad," she said.

"Mom, that's why I'm working-for our expenses here at home."

"I know, but you always give us all your earnings. It wouldn't hurt to save some for yourself. I still have money, and it will be enough for our rent."

"Mom..."

"Don't be too hard on Lyra," she added gently. "Use some of that money to buy clothes. Aren't you tired of wearing the same ones every day?"

"My clothes are still fine. I don't need new ones."

"Still..." she hesitated. "I talked to your aunt. She's asking if you want to work abroad where she is."

Because of that, I paused and stopped eating.

Our aunt is in Singapore. When my father died, she helped us a lot. She's Mom's sister-kind and generous. Every time she came home to the Philippines, she always brought us clothes and food. Most of the clothes I wear now came from her. She doesn't have a husband or children, so she spoils us instead. I'm grateful to her, especially when she helps with Riri's school projects.

She even wanted us to live with her in Singapore. She lives alone in a condo.

"I don't want to work that far away, Mom. Please tell her that. Besides, there are plenty of jobs here in the Philippines. You just need perseverance," I said.

"Are you sure? People earn more there than here."

"Mom, even if the salary is bigger, what's the use of it if I cry every day because I'm not used to being far from you? I don't want to leave you here alone."

"Aren't you tired of this life you're living?"

Because of that question, I slowly lowered the spoon in my hand and looked at her. I could see the sadness she was trying so hard to hide.

A heavy sigh escape my lips. I wanted to tell her how I am in this kind of life. But what would I do?. Instead of resting and giving up in life, why not fight until my very last breath?. Besides, why would I be tired when they are my source of energy that I have every day?.

Right. Life isn't easy. Life is very tiring, especially to people like us who needs to work hard to survive in this world.

But, the thing is, why would I be feel tired if I know they are my rest?. Coming home, and seeing them is enough for me to keep fighting, and to ease the heavy feelings.

I looked at my mother and couldn't stop myself from sighing.

"Mom, you shouldn't ask questions like that because you already know the answer. And besides, why would I get tired when you're right here with me? Being tired is always part of life, but I don't pay attention to it because I'm happy as long as I'm with you two," I said before standing up and placing my plate in the sink.

I didn't mean to sound so emotional, but sometimes it was hard to explain things without my heart getting involved. I knew Mom worried about me. She always did. Maybe too much.

"I'm sorry for asking," she said softly, her eyes lowering to the table.

"It's okay," I replied, forcing a small smile. "You're just being a mom."

"Are you leaving, Sis?" Riri asked. I turned to her while picking up my bag.

"Yes. I need to hurry or I'll be late for work."

"Be careful," she said, her voice soft but serious, the way kids sound when they try to act like adults.

Before leaving, I said goodbye to them and reminded them to close and lock the door. I had the key to the apartment. Better safe than sorry-there were still a lot of lunatics in this area. Some people thought it was rude to say that, but anyone who had lived here long enough knew it was just being realistic.

The hallway outside our apartment was dim and smelled faintly of damp walls and old paint. The lightbulb near the stairs flickered like it was tired of doing its job. I took the steps two at a time, my mind already counting the minutes until I had to clock in.

As soon as I stepped out of the old building we were renting, I was greeted by the noise of people talking downstairs. Someone was laughing loudly. A baby was crying. Two neighbors were arguing over borrowed money. It was chaotic, but in a strange way, it felt familiar-almost comforting.

Our apartment is on the third floor. The place is crowded, and only motorcycles and tricycles can pass through the narrow streets. The walls of the nearby buildings were so close together that sometimes it felt like the sky had been cut into small pieces. The main road is still a bit far, so when you ride a jeep or taxi, you still have to walk before reaching the exit.

"Going to work?"Mrs. Lisa asked from her small sari-sari store, her hands busy counting coins.

"Yes," I replied with a small smile.

She nodded, the way adults do when they silently acknowledge how hard someone is working. Some people here already knew me because they saw me almost every day-walking to the bookstore in the morning and heading to the bar at night. Sometimes I wondered if they thought I never slept.

The air was humid, the kind that clung to your skin even after the sun had gone down. I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder and started walking toward the corner of the street.

That's when I noticed a black car parked near the corner, the engine still running. A tall man leaned casually against the hood, one hand in his pocket. I couldn't recognize him at first because of the dim light, but something about his posture felt familiar. Too familiar.

And I wasn't wrong.

"Jerome? What are you doing here?" I asked in surprise as I stepped closer.

"Didn't I tell you we'd go to the bar together? I'm picking you up after your shift," he said, straightening up.

"And why would you do that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing. I just want to help," he replied. "Besides, aren't you scared of walking alone at night? You're still a woman."

I rolled my eyes but smiled a little as I got into the passenger seat. "I can defend myself," I said while fastening my seatbelt.

"Even so, you should stop walking alone at night. There are a lot of crazy people around Manila," he said as he started the engine.

The car smelled faintly of coffee and something minty. It was quiet inside, a sharp contrast to the noisy street outside.

"I've been walking alone for years. I'm still alive," I muttered.

"Barely," he teased.

I shook my head, staring out the window as the car moved forward. The city lights blurred into streaks of yellow and white. Jeepneys passed by, filled with tired workers and sleepy students. Sometimes I wondered if all of us were just trying to survive one day at a time.

Actually, Jerome and I became close the day I first walked into his bookstore.

***Flashback***

I was walking around, looking for a job, my feet were already sore from hours of searching. When I saw a sign outside a small bookstore looking for staff to man the counter, I felt like the universe had finally decided to be kind to me.

I went inside, my heart pounding with nervous hope.

But what I didn't expect was a loud voice that nearly made my soul leave my body.

"WELCOME TO MOM AND SON'S BOOKSTORE!"

I jumped in surprise and covered my ears. Some of the customers even turned to look at us.

"T-Thank you," I said awkwardly, my face burning.

"Are you here to buy books?" he asked with a wide smile.

The way he smiled felt like we already knew each other, like we were old friends who had just met again.

"Uh... no. I'm here to... apply for the job," I said, pointing at the sign outside.

"Ah! Okay. Come on, let's go to my mom."

Before I could react, he grabbed my arm and dragged me toward where his mother was, leaving me wondering if this was how job applications worked now.

***End of Flashback***

That same day, after I got hired, Jerome practically became my shadow. Wherever I went in the bookstore, he followed. He would explain every single book on the shelves like he personally knew the authors. He was so talkative that sometimes I wondered if his mouth ever got tired.

The car slowed as we reached the bar's parking lot. Neon lights flickered outside, casting colorful reflections on the wet pavement. Music thumped faintly through the walls of the building, even from outside.

When Jerome and I got out, we entered through the back door-the entrance for staff. The smell of alcohol hit me immediately, mixed with sweat, perfume, and smoke.

"Yo! You two are here!" Jerome's bandmates greeted us as soon as we walked in.

They looked relaxed, laughing among themselves as they adjusted their instruments. There were already quite a few people inside. Later tonight, this place would be packed to the point where you couldn't even move.

I greeted his friends politely before heading to the locker room to change into my uniform. Mae, one of my coworkers-and my friend-was already there, fixing her hair in the mirror.

"You're here early. Were you here before me?" I asked.

"I just arrived too. Were you with Jerome?" she asked suddenly, her eyes narrowing playfully.

I smiled, and she raised an eyebrow.

"I don't like that smile, Lyra," she said, shaking her head.

"Why? Is it bad to smile? Or are you jealous because Jerome is your crush?" I teased.

She smacked my arm hard. "Bitch! I bought a book from the bookstore where you work!"

"Really? Book your face, Mae. Didn't you just go there the other day? You even bought two books."

"Yes! I already finished reading them!"

"Wow, a certified bookworm," I said, laughing.

"Hurry up. One of our coworkers said the regular VIP customers are coming later. I heard they're rich and always stay in the VIP room."

"Do you know what's dangerous, Mae? Talking too much without being blessed," I said, pretending to scold her.

She just laughed, already tying her apron.

After our little fight in the locker room, we quickly went out before our boss could catch us fooling around.

This job is seriously exhausting. We go back and forth carrying orders for customers nonstop. Trays full of drinks felt heavier with every step. Aside from getting dizzy, my feet burned from all the walking. The bar was packed now, and everyone wanted something-more drinks, more food, more attention.

I really hate the smell of alcohol-especially when it comes from people's mouths. It makes me feel like I'm about to throw up any second. Funny how I get more nauseous than the people who are actually drinking.

The music was loud, the lights too bright, the laughter too sharp. Everything felt overwhelming.

I leaned against the bar counter for a moment, resting my head because I was so dizzy. My legs felt like they might give out if I stood still for too long, so I forced myself to straighten up again.

And speaking of those VIP customers...

I still haven't seen them enter.

Not that I care.

...Right?