JASMINE
"Ma'am, please! You really need to rest. Where are you even rushing to dress like this?" Elena's voice chased me down the hallway, full of that worried-mom energy she always had.
I didn't slow down as my sneakers squeaked on the floor as I bolted toward the front door, a food box bouncing in my arms.
Then reality slapped me in the face. I had no idea where Stephan's office was. I skidded to a stop and spun around.
"Elena! I need to take this food to his office. Maybe if I show up with lunch he will stop glaring at me like I am expired milk."
Elena caught up, breathing a little hard. "Ma'am… the doctor is on his way. You just woke up from a coma. You should at least let him…"
I threw my hands up. "Look at me! Do I look like someone who needs a doctor? I am walking, talking, and breathing. I'm good!"
She gave me a long, slow scan from my backward cap down to my baggy joggers and oversized hoodie. Her face did that awkward twist again.
"Actually… yeah. You kinda do look like you need one."
"What? Say what now?"
(Host… your current outfit does not match Jasmine Maxwell's usual style at all.)
The system screen flashed bright in my vision. A perfect photo of "original Jasmine" popped up in a flowy silk gown, diamond earrings, hair in a flawless chignon, looking like she was born to attend galas and sip champagne.
I swatted the image away like it was a mosquito. "Whatever. I dress how I want. This is comfy and I am keeping it."
Elena planted herself right in front of the door like a human barricade.
"Ma'am, I am so sorry to keep stopping you, but if you walk out looking like that, the paparazzi are going to have a field day. Cameras flashing everywhere. Headlines tomorrow: 'Jasmine Maxwell's Midlife Crisis Wardrobe Malfunction' or worse."
I raised both hands in surrender. "I can choose my own clothes, thank you very much. I love this fit. Backward cap for the vibes, joggers so I can actually move, hoodie big enough to hide my whole life in. It's giving 'cool aunt who still skates.' I am here for it."
She spelled it out slowly like I was five. "Those are… young streetwear clothes. Not exactly 'Mrs. Maxwell surprised her husband with the office's energy."
"Exactly! That's the point. I am not trying to be boring old Mrs. Maxwell today. I am trying to be me."
Elena sighed so deeply I thought her soul left her body for a second.
"Ma'-am you are Mrs. Maxwell, I don't see another person in you so please just stay home and wait for the doctor to come check on you." I stared at her for a few seconds trying to process her words. Did she insult me?
"Please, ma'am…"
I snatched the food box tighter. "I am not listening to you Elena. Get me a cab, I just recalled I don't even have my phone on me."
She snapped her fingers. One of the staff appeared like magic, holding out a shiny new iPhone, the kind that probably costs more than my old apartment.
"Ma'am… you do have a phone, it wasn't with you because you…" she paused expecting me to understand.
"Yay! This is mine?" I grabbed it, already grinning like I'd won the lottery.
Elena forced a smile and slowly shook her head. "The chauffeur is already waiting outside, ma'am. He will drive you safely to the office since you still insist."
"Even better!" I dashed out the door.
The chauffeur, a tall guy in a crisp black suit opened the back door of the sleekest car I had ever seen. He gave me one long, confused look.
"Ma'am… where to?" I held up the box like a trophy. "Dude, take me to my husband. Let's roll!"
He stared for a solid three seconds, blinked, then nodded like he had decided not to ask questions that day. He got in, started the engine, and we glided out of the driveway.
The car was insane. The leather seats are softer than clouds, and little screens everywhere show traffic and weather.
I leaned back and grinned the whole ride, munching on a piece of bacon I had stolen from the box.
"What is your name?" I asked and he stared at me through the rearview mirror.
"Lucas.." he replied and I smiled.
"Good…"
Not quite long we pulled up to this towering glass building that looked like it belonged in a sci-fi movie.
(Wow… my husband is such a powerful wealthy man.)
The second I stepped out, every security guard bowed. Even the receptionists straightened as the rest in suits murmured among themselves. Well, she must be well known in his office. That's nice.
I marched straight to the front desk, the food box swinging.
"Where's Stephan?"
The receptionist looked up, froze, blinked twice, then stared as I walked in wearing a clown costume.
"He's… in a very important meeting right now, ma'am. He specifically asked for no disturbances."
I nodded cheerfully. "Cool. Take me to his office anyway. I will wait like a good girl."
She opened her mouth and closed it. She tried again. "Ma'am, I really don't think…"
Before she could finish, a tall guy in an even well-tailored suit stepped up behind me.
"Mrs. Maxwell, this way please."
I turned and the system pinged happily.
(Host, that's his personal assistant, Rick. He is very trusted.) If you want real access to Stephan, go through him.)
I ignored the tip and followed the guy like I owned the building. Which, technically, I kinda did.
His office was next-level luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, a massive oak desk, leather chairs that probably cost more than cars, and abstract art on the walls that looked expensive and confusing at the same time.
I dropped the food box on the desk with a happy thud, then plopped into Stephan's big boss chair and spun around like it was a carnival ride.
"Sir already knows you are here," the assistant said politely. "He will come as soon as the meeting wraps."
"Sweet! I will chill." I kept spinning, kicking my feet up as he turned to leave.
"Hey! Wait up!" I jumped out of the chair and jogged after him. "Can you help me with something real quick?"
He swallowed hard. "Ma'am?"
"Call me Jasmine. 'Ma'am' makes me sound like I am somebody's grandma. I am not ready for that title yet."
He stared, then gave the tiniest nod.
"When is Stephan getting out of that meeting?"
He paused way too long. "It… might run long." I grinned wider.
"Perfect timing then. Help me get some people up here balloons, a big cake, maybe some confetti poppers. I am gonna sing and apologize to him. Publicly. The works."
The system chimed as it had just won the lottery.
(Really, Host? That's actually a brilliant idea. I can provide tips to make the apology land perfectly and maximize point gain.)
I rolled my eyes. (Wow, look who finally decided to be useful.)
(Because you are finally doing what the system wants. Public remorse is step one to redemption.)
Rick looked like he wanted to evaporate the moment I said that. "Ma'am… but that might not be…"
I slapped my hand gently over his mouth, playful, not aggressive. "Please please please! Do it for me! Pretty please with sprinkles on top?"
He stared at my hand, then at my face, then let out the longest sigh known to man.
"…Fine. I will arrange it." I clapped like a kid at a birthday party. "Yes! You're the absolute best! Go go go!"
He walked out looking like he had just agreed to rob a bank. I spun back into the chair, grinning ear to ear.
Public apology with balloons and cake? Check.
Stephan walked in to me belting out "Sorry" like a total clown? Incoming.
Points about to skyrocket… or crash and burn spectacularly.
Either way, it was going to be hilarious.
I kicked my feet up on the desk, grabbed my phone, and started scrolling for apology song lyrics.
This was either the smartest move I had made in this world… or the dumbest.
Knowing my luck? Probably both.
But at least it would be entertaining.
I leaned back, staring out at the glittering city below.
"Come on, Stephan," I muttered with a smirk. "Let's see how you handle your wife going into full rom-com chaos mode."