Inside an apartment.
"Come on in! It's a little small and kinda messy," Max said, unlocking the door and waving Caroline inside.
"It's pretty nice…"
The lights flicked on, and Caroline glanced around, giving a polite response. Sure, "small" didn't even begin to compare to her family's sprawling estate—it felt tinier than her old walk-in closet. And "messy"? Random sketch papers were strewn everywhere, clearly no maid on duty 24/7.
But as a Wharton Business School grad now reeling from that paradise-to-hell freefall, she wasn't exactly in the mood to flex her usual casual Versailles vibes.
"How much is the rent here?"
Her dad had drilled number-crunching into her since she was a kid, and now that he'd been hauled off, that instinct kicked into overdrive.
"Rent?" Max shook her head. "Honestly, I have no clue."
"You don't know?" Caroline blinked, then it clicked. "Oh, did Adam rent it for you?"
"Nope." Max tossed her stuff aside and flopped onto the couch. "I just bought it, so I wouldn't know what the rent's like."
"You bought it?"
Caroline sized up the place—two bedrooms, one living room. She'd noticed the neighborhood was decent coming in, and the location wasn't bad either. A spot like this had to cost at least a few hundred grand!
"Yup!" Max saw Caroline still standing there awkwardly and got up. "Sit down already! Want something to drink?"
"Just water's fine." Caroline had been running around all night and was parched. Still, she couldn't help adding, "If you've got that kind of cash, why buy a place? Renting's cheaper, and you could invest the rest for way better returns!"
"I don't get investing." Max grabbed two water bottles from the fridge and handed one over. "You've gotta have your own place to live, right? Besides, it wasn't that much money."
"…"
Caroline felt a weird mix of déjà vu and total disconnect. To her—penniless now, maybe even jobless—hundreds of thousands, once pocket change for a single party, was suddenly an unreachable dream.
"Drawing pays that well?" she asked, incredulous.
She might not know the nitty-gritty of "commoner" prices, but she had a rough idea. Wharton taught her how to squeeze every dime out of workers to rake in profits—gotta know what the help's worth, or you'll overpay and get blacklisted by the capitalist clique!
"It's alright." Max shrugged. "Peppa Pig sells like crazy, and Adam gave me some fat bonuses. I don't know squat about investing, though—money just sits in the bank losing value. Figured a house was a safer bet."
Hmm.
Adam didn't drag Max into investments like he did with Juno or Heather. Why? Simple. Like any ruthless boss, he wasn't about to let Max—tied to him and Peppa Pig's massive profits—get so rich she could just kick back and quit. He hated that lazy, salty-fish side of her! 😂
That said, he didn't screw her over either. She'd spent four years in school—two at community college, where Adam's encouragement pushed her to shine, then two more at an art university. In the U.S., those later community college credits stack toward a proper degree, so after two years at art school, she snagged her bachelor's.
During those years, she worked part-time, studying while sketching Peppa Pig. After graduation, it hit the shelves, and Adam hooked her up with enough bonus cash to casually land a house, a beat-up car, and a comfy stack of bills.
But aside from the house and that junker car, Max's biggest splurges? Buying stuff for Adam. Thousands, tens of thousands—she tossed money around like it was nothing. Adam nagged her about it constantly, teasing that she'd gotten too used to shelling out for him, like some "uncomfy without spoiling" pro.
Every time, she'd yank him into a bear hug and crow, "A sugar baby who doesn't pamper her sugar daddy isn't a good sugar baby! Just think of it as early retirement—I'll take care of you!" 😎
So, Adam stopped handing her bonuses after that. Instead, he stashed the cash for her, planning to drop it all later—otherwise, she'd just blow it all on him.
"Such a waste," Caroline muttered, her brain spinning.
She wasn't scheming or anything—her upbringing just made her allergic to the idea of snagging your first big paycheck and not turning it into more money. That was poor people logic!
"This couch?" Caroline sat down and immediately felt it wobble. "Why don't you replace it?"
"I've swapped it out a bunch of times," Max shrugged. "But every time Adam shows up, it breaks. Eventually, I just gave up."
"…"
Caroline froze, unsure what to say—or if she should even keep sitting there!
By then, Max had flipped on the TV. Naturally, Martin Channing's bombshell scandal was plastered across every channel. She flipped through a few—same story everywhere.
"No point switching," Caroline said, forcing herself to toughen up. "I expected this. I wanna see what people are saying."
"You sure?" Max raised an eyebrow, trying to be nice. "Your dad's stirred up a total shitstorm. No one's gonna have anything good to say."
"It's fine," Caroline straightened up, eyes locked on the screen. "I can handle it."
A few minutes later…
"Turn it off! Turn it off!"
Caroline couldn't take it anymore. The wild, creative insults people were hurling at her dad on TV blew past anything she could've imagined. You can curse someone out like THAT?! 😵
"Told ya," Max shrugged, eyeing her. "You really don't know jack about life down here, huh? This is barely the tip of the iceberg."
"This is what 'bottom-tier' life is like?" Caroline panicked.
"This ain't even one percent of it," Max said, giving the former princess a pitying look. "Let me put it this way: right now, you're like a maid stuck alone at Schwarzenegger's place after dark."
"Huh?" Caroline was lost.
"You're about to get wrecked by the real world," Max said with a goofy grin.
"…"
Caroline just blinked, thrown off by Max's crude slang. What even is that saying? So tacky!
"Alright, you've had a hell of a day. Go wash up and crash," Max said, seeing Caroline wasn't in the mood for her hard-earned street lingo. "Guest room's over there—you're staying here. Whatever's going on, we'll figure it out tomorrow.
"Don't sweat it. People adapt like champs. Life's like, uh… you know. Can't fight it? Lie back and enjoy the ride. You'll find the fun in the suck soon enough. That's just how it goes! Trust me—I'm a pro at this!" 😉
"Thanks, Max," Caroline said, half-laughing, half-crying. She was genuinely grateful for the shelter and comfort.
No comparison, no pain. Her so-called boyfriend and besties couldn't hold a candle to a near-stranger's kindness. If this was bottom-tier life, maybe she could deal… for a while.
Yup! Deep down, she still had some confidence. She was young, a Wharton grad, and had inherited her dad's business smarts. Once she got through this rough patch, she'd bounce back.
Caroline Channing, you've got this!
With that thought, she smiled, washed up, and hit the hay.
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