Timothea’s face remained expressionless. She tapped her fingers on the table and said calmly, “I understand. You can leave first.”
From then on, Timothea’s attention began to focus more and more on Harper.
One day, while leaving to get off work, Harper was blocked in an alley by several drunken men and nearly bullied.
Timothea, sitting in a black luxury car, watched expressionlessly.
Just as they were about to pull off Harper’s pants, a fist struck them, knocking them over.
Harper stared at her, still terrified. “It was you? Thank you for saving me…”
Timothea said nothing, took off her coat and covered him. “Where’s home? I’ll take you there.”
Harper shook his head bitterly. “No, I don’t have money for rent, so I’m sleeping in the hotel’s cleaning room.”
Timothea looked at him in surprise. Half an hour later, she handed Harper a bank card.
“Don’t work at the hotel anymore. Come be my assistant.”
Harper realized what was happening and was immediately overjoyed.
From that day on, she became Timothea’s personal assistant.
Her clothes were ironed by Harper.
Her life plans were arranged by Harper.
And yet, he did it better than anyone else.