Got On His Love Pirate Ship

Recently, Mr. Galer has been calling me into his office more often, and as soon as I enter, he asks me to close the door.

My patience with this foul-smelling middle-aged man has reached its limit.

With my screams echoing, I rush out of Mr. Galer’s office, running towards the elevator under the gaze of my colleagues.

“You don’t need to come to the company tomorrow.”

I throw my phone aside, collapse onto the bed, and shut myself in.

This month’s salary is also gone; I gave all the money on me to my mother. Now, I can’t even afford a takeout.

I open the fridge, finding some noodles and eggs.

After lying in bed for three days, “Ding dong!” The doorbell rings.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

Opening the door, there’s no one outside. The fragrance of flowers wafts in, and I see the neatly arranged red roses sent by Mr. Galer leaning against the wall.

I throw the roses into the trash can, think for a moment, and then retrieve them.

The red roses, inserted into the vase, fill the air with a tempting fragrance.

Tomorrow is payday. What can I give to my mother? I can’t ruin the regained warmth of my family.

I need money.

I press the thorny stem of the roses with my fingers.