The smoothie shop was a whirlwind of activity during the lunch rush when a customer's call shattered my focus.

"Is this the manager?" a sharp voice demanded. "I ordered a smoothie with just a touch of sugar. Why is it so sweet?"

I checked her order and explained calmly, "Miss, Chocolate Bliss has a naturally sweet base."

Not long after, she called again. "I asked for five ice cubes. Why are there only four?"

Swamped and barely keeping up, I apologized and moved on.

Before I could catch my breath, the phone rang once more. "I requested the guy in the black shirt to deliver my order. Why did a girl show up?"

Suppressing my irritation, I clarified, "Miss, we handle the drinks; deliveries are managed by couriers."

Finally, the calls stopped.

But as the rush subsided, the headquarters called, telling me that a customer had lodged a complaint, accusing me of seducing her boyfriend.

...

To protect my performance bonus, I swallowed my frustration and obtained the complainant's number.

The line went through, and a familiar, venomous voice rang out. "So, you've finally got the guts to call me, Jennifer Sargent. Tell me, did you sleep your way to manager?"

This customer had been a nuisance all morning, and now she was spreading vile rumors. My temper flared, but I kept my voice steady. "Miss, I've already refunded your smoothie. We've never met. Why did you file a complaint against me seducing your boyfriend?"

"Never met?" Her voice turned shrill. "I'm Lauren Miller, Matteo Velez's girlfriend, and you're trying to steal him!"

Her words made me laugh. Matteo was the courier she'd insisted on for her order. I had called him in to help. That was all.

Lauren's tone grew colder. "Cat got your tongue? Matteo took a sick day to bring me breakfast and avoid you, you old hag. He wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole!"

Finally, her words irritated me. My voice hardened. "If you're worried about him cheating, take it up with him. He's just a part-time worker here."

I'd only been running this smoothie shop for two months, but I'd already dealt with plenty of difficult customers. Lauren, however, was in a league of her own.

"I'm his boss," I continued. "His personal life doesn't concern me. But if you keep slandering me, I will sue you for defamation."

I hung up, rolling my eyes in exasperation. A coworker saw my reaction and asked, "Jennifer, who got you so riled up?"

I recounted the ordeal, and her smile faded. "Not her again."

I frowned. "She has called before?"

Sarah nodded with a grim expression. "Brace yourself. This isn't over."

I blinked, sighing, "We'll deal with it as it comes."

Matteo stormed in with a grim expression. "Jennifer, we are done talking from now on!"

I noticed his phone, hanging around his neck, displaying a call active for seven hours. He clasped his hands apologetically while distancing himself from me.

Eager to avoid more drama, I nodded. "Fine."

"Just do your job, and I won't say a word to you," I said.

Matteo exhaled in relief, but a cold laugh crackled through the phone. In an instant, his body stiffened, and his hands started to tremble.

I was baffled by the extent of his fear for Lauren. Before I could ask, she snapped over the phone, "Matteo, you spoke eight words to her! Did I permit you to say her name?"

...

Her possessiveness was downright morbid, and my head throbbed.

I opened my mouth to respond, but Sarah quickly covered it. "Don't say anything."

Her voice was almost a whisper, but Lauren's ears were sharp. "Turn on the video, Matteo! Let me see how many women are around you."

Matteo clenched his fists, licking his dry lips before responding softly, "My coworkers are back from lunch. That's all."

"Back from lunch?" Lauren screeched. "Why didn't you tell me? Turn on the video, now!"

He hesitated, then activated the camera, panning it quickly over us.

"Why is she wearing the same shirt as you?" Lauren pointed at Sarah, her eyes blazing.

Sarah shot back, "Matteo and I are just wearing the uniform. We all wear it."

"Don't you dare say his name!" Lauren growled, her accusations growing wilder. "And why isn't Jennifer in a uniform? You're all scheming to steal my boyfriend! This whole shop is rotten, from the manager to the staff!"

Matteo's face flushed with embarrassment, but Lauren's insults escalated.

Finally, I interjected, "I'm the manager. I don't wear the same uniform as the staff. Stop disrupting our work."

She went silent for a moment, then laughed mockingly, "Fine, I'll support your work. Connect me to your shop's cameras. I'm watching to make sure no one flirts with Matteo. If I catch any of you near him, I'll have this place torn down."

Her voice echoed through the shop, drawing frowns from the returning staff.

"We only talk to Matteo about work," one protested.

"If you're so paranoid, lock him up at home," another echoed.

Lauren shrieked, "You tramps! Don't you know the customer is always right?"

Matteo, pale and apologetic, looked at us helplessly.

Lauren glared at me through the screen, demanding, "Connect the cameras now! Tell Matteo to take off his uniform, and all you harlots write a pledge to stay away from him."

My heart pounded with rage. Before I could say anything, Matteo stepped back, muttering, "Don't do it."

Sarah grabbed my arm. "Jennifer, don't give in to her."

Matteo lowered his head, looking fragile. My coworkers shook with anger. "We can't agree to such nonsense!"

Silent, I stepped closer to him and locked eyes with Lauren through the screen. She smirked triumphantly. "Write that pledge! I want Matteo to strip, and none of you should look up."

I snatched Matteo's phone and ended the call, cutting off Lauren's toxic demands.

Rubbing my throbbing temples, I said, "Don't worry. I'm not doing that. Everyone, back to work."

...

The drama faded into the chaos of the next rush.

During a break, a man with a headquarters badge stormed in. His eyes swept across the room before locking onto me. "Jennifer Sargent? I'm James Wilson, head office supervisor. Do you realize what you've done? Seducing a customer's boyfriend and ignoring her reasonable requests? Because of you, we've got hundreds of complaints!"

Incredulous, I pulled over Matteo and pointed at his uniform. "She demanded my staff write pledges and asked Matteo to strip in public. Is that reasonable?"

I pulled out a stack of refund receipts, each scrawled with Lauren's address and vicious notes.

[Jennifer, you hung up on me? You're finished!]

[You little tramp, think you can defy me? I'll shut down your shop!]

Shaking with anger, I glared at James. "She is disrupting our work and complaining about me? You know what? Let's call the police and let them sort it out."

"Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?" he sneered. "She is the daughter of our biggest investor. If she pulls her money, the company is done. Can you handle that?"

His words made me laugh. If she were the investor's daughter, then who was I?

Before I could respond, he shoved a file into my hands. "You'd better do everything she wants, or no one's saving your job."

I opened the file, frowning at a list of absurd demands.

As the manager, I must make 500 smoothies daily, and for Lauren's orders, I must deliver with Matteo in ten minutes. Also, I must monitor the staff to ensure they don't get too close to Matteo.

Every night, I must send Lauren a detailed report of Matteo's actions and words by midnight. During her feedback, I must bow and avoid eye contact.

The list went on, but I didn't bother reading further. My gaze was fixed on James. "Who is Lauren's dad, exactly?"

Just then, his phone rang. He answered, his tone turning obsequious. "Mr. Miller, I'm handling it."

A scornful voice came through. "Handling it? It's been hours! A mere manager dares to upset my daughter? Fix this, or I'm pulling my investment!"

James paled, assuring him, "Don't worry, sir. In thirty minutes, the manager will come and apologize to her."

I sneered, recognizing that man's voice.

Three years ago, my dad hired his distant cousin, Tom Miller, as his driver. Apparently, Tom had been using my dad's name to throw his weight around.

I pulled out my phone and texted him: [Uncle Tom, get to the smoothie shop and look what your daughter has done.]

As the message was sent, a mocking voice rang out.