The Boxing Champion CEO's Hidden Little Sister

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1: 1

My sister is a hopeless little-sister fanatic.

My stomach's bad, so she has the company kitchen make my three meals a day just for me.

I lost a client once and cried my eyes raw, so she pulled me into her office and dabbed eye drops in herself.

My coworker Jeanette Dickerson walked in with some documents right as my sister was holding me, murmuring comfort in my ear.

The day after my sister flew overseas for a fight, Jeanette cornered me in the restroom:

"Bonnie Fox, you know everyone behind your back calls you the girl who slept her way up, right?"

That afternoon, my top-salesman boyfriend blocked me in the parking lot, disgust all over his face:

"You went and slept with a boss over one lousy client? Bonnie, can you not be so cheap?"

Jeanette trailed out after him, all pity as she counseled me:

"Bonnie, a woman needs some self-respect. Playing two men like this is going to ruin you."

Watching the two of them sing their little duet, I suddenly laughed.

My sister just cut her hair short and dressed a little androgynous.

They actually thought she was a man?

...

"Playing two men?"

I repeated it flatly, and couldn't hold back a laugh.

"What's wrong, Jeanette? You tried to climb into that boss's bed and he wasn't interested, so you dump it all on me to blow off steam?"

Jeanette flushed red with shame and fury, tears coming on cue:

"Bonnie, I'm doing this for your own good. How can you turn around and slander me?"

Michael Gilbert tucked her behind him, staring at me with a face full of disappointment:

"You're dating me and climbing into Ms. Fox's bed at the same time. If that's not playing two men, what is it?

"And you've got the nerve to twist it around and frame Jeanie. Bonnie Fox, have you got any shame left?"

A cold laugh rose in my chest.

My heels struck the floor, sharper and colder than my voice:

"Michael, I forgot to tell you. Starting now... no, starting ten minutes ago, I stopped wanting your leaky little boat."

I didn't bother with them. As I turned, I drew out my car key and pressed it.

The black Mercedes beside us flashed its lights twice.

The sound of it unlocking rang out across the empty parking lot.

Michael hadn't caught up yet. His face went a shade paler as he looked at the Mercedes:

"When... when did you buy a Mercedes?"

The envy in Jeanette's eyes nearly burned through, but her face put on that sweet, poisonous act as she needled me:

"Bonnie, you even sweet-talked Ms. Fox into buying you a Mercedes?"

Michael clenched his fists, contempt flooding his eyes:

"Bonnie Fox, someone like you thinks she's fit to break up with me? You're just filthy."

Filthy?

That word out of his mouth was like a knife driven into an old wound.

I thought back to last winter.

To win me over, he'd crouched by the elevators in the office building for two hours.

I came out at eleven after overtime, and there he was, the tip of his nose red from the cold, pulling a cup of warm bubble tea from inside his coat.

"Didn't want it to go cold," he'd said, grinning like a fool. "So I just kept it tucked in there."

Back then, the way he looked at me was like he was holding something breakable.

Now he looked at me like I was something filthy.

My throat went sour and tight, like I'd swallowed a bottle of acid.

Then, out of nowhere, Jeanette bowed toward me, tears splattering down onto the floor:

"I'm sorry, Bonnie, this is all my fault. I only wanted to talk you out of ruining your own life. I never meant to cause trouble between you and Michael."

She straightened, tugged at Michael's sleeve, and pouted like a wronged child:

"Michael, calm down, don't be so harsh with Bonnie. She's still young. It's normal to take a wrong turn now and then. As long as we're patient and guide her the right way, Bonnie's sure to turn back into that sweet, innocent coworker everyone used to adore."

She said it all so graciously, so properly, her thin shoulders trembling faintly.

As if, should I fail to rein myself back from the cliff's edge and kneel down to kowtow my thanks to her, I'd be the ungrateful one.

Sure enough, Michael's heart ached for her completely, holding and soothing her.

Just then, the elevator gave a ding.

Coworkers heading home came pouring out.

Thanks to that phrase, the girl who slept her way up, by now almost everyone in the company knew who I was.

"Ooh, Bonnie, your bed-climbing skills are something else, landing a Mercedes and all. Lend it to me for a spin."

The coworker who said it reached for my car key.

I twisted aside and shot him a cold, frowning glance.

Another coworker crossed his arms and looked me up and down like I was prey:

"Tsk, tsk. Looks so innocent. Who'd have guessed she's this slutty behind closed doors."

Someone else sniggered. "This is exactly my type. Miss Fox, name your price, why don't you? Let us boys show you a good time."

The grating laughter dug into my ears.

Someone whistled. Someone else just watched the show.

Michael stood outside the crowd without moving,

like he was watching a farce that had nothing to do with him, not even a flicker in his brow.

Completely blind to the triumph Jeanette couldn't hide in her eyes.

All at once the whole scene struck me as absurd.

One client worth a million. One Mercedes. That was all.

If I wanted, the top ten listed companies in Seaport City would drive their sports-car convoys to my door overnight, lining up with gifts, begging me to sign.

My sister was right.

Some people just love standing on their imagined high ground, playing moral games at another person's expense.

2: 2

I tightened my grip on the car keys and let out a breath.

"Who said Ms. Fox bought this car?"

The parking lot went quiet for two seconds.

Then, like they'd heard the funniest joke in the world, everyone pointed at me and burst out laughing.

"So you didn't earn it in bed? Bonnie Fox, you're an intern. You think nobody knows what your monthly paycheck is?"

Jeanette Dickerson peeked out from behind Michael Gilbert and said in a small voice,

"Bonnie, you mean the money for the Mercedes came from your commission after closing a deal with a client, right?"

On the surface she was clearing my name, but there was a strange gleam in her eyes, and every word only dug me deeper.

"Unless you're saying that behind Ms. Fox's back, you and that big client also"

She stopped halfway, and the stares from the coworkers around me stabbed in like needles.

It made me laugh out of sheer anger.

Apparently, the only idea in Jeanette Dickerson's head was a woman climbing into a bed to trade for money.

I took a step forward and stared at her without moving.

"Jeanette Dickerson, just because you can't afford a luxury car doesn't mean other people have no money either."

Something in that hit a nerve.

She stamped her feet and jumped, craning her neck as she shot back,

"Bonnie Fox! My family may be poor, but I've never climbed into anyone's bed for the sake of some so-called face!"

"Oh, so it isn't true just because you say so? Who knows."

Her face went red under my words, and she started crying, all wronged.

Michael Gilbert looked heartbroken, his eyes full of disgust for me.

"Bonnie Fox, who are you trying to fool, acting all high and mighty in front of me?"

"You mooch three meals a day off Ms. Fox's cooking, you never once shopped on the weekend, you wouldn't even spring for a cup of bubble tea. There's no way you saved up for this Mercedes yourself, is there?"

"Jeanette's family may be poor, but she's clean to the core! What right does someone like you, driving a luxury car by selling your body, have to talk about her?"

The muttering around me grew louder and louder, and the mocking laughter rang in my ears until they hurt.

Every word out of Michael Gilbert was like a knife rolled in chili, cutting open my heart.

Those three meals a day were because my stomach was bad, and my sister had them specially made for me at the company.

Not shopping on the weekend was because when I shopped at our own malls, the managers wouldn't dare take my money.

I was afraid that going in would blow my cover and make Michael Gilbert lose face.

As for the bubble tea, that was because my sister thought the stuff outside wasn't clean, so she'd hired one of the best masters in the country to make it for me at home.

After I agreed to be with Michael Gilbert,

I'd tried, in both my daily life and what I spent, to bring myself down to his level of money.

Last time I went with him to a street-side barbecue stall, I had diarrhea for a week,

and after one "Drink plenty of hot water," he turned right around to make warm honey tea for Jeanette Dickerson, who was on her period.

Thinking about it now, in his eyes,

that street-side barbecue must have been the greatest favor he could grant me.

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat and stared at him.

"Michael Gilbert, who do you think you are? What makes you fit to judge me?"

I ignored his ashen face, shoved past his shoulder, turned, and got in the car.

I'd just started the engine when Michael Gilbert blocked the front, spread his arms wide, and glared at me.

"Bonnie Fox, Jeanette was doing this for your own good, and you throw her kindness back in her face! If you really want to drive a luxury car, you could just ask me. What's with rushing off to be some bed-climbing slut? You've completely ruined my reputation!"

I rolled down the window. My voice wasn't loud, but everyone there heard it clearly.

"Even if you took every penny you and Jeanette Dickerson have and added it all up, it still wouldn't cover a month of my pocket money."

The Gilberts were nouveau riche, and Michael Gilbert had always cared about appearances and feared nothing more than being called broke.

His face went so dark it looked ready to drip, and his sharp glare wanted nothing more than to pin me to the seat.

"Bonnie Fox, fine, you can talk about me, but what gives you the right to talk about Jeanette? If you don't get down on your knees today and apologize to Jeanette and me, watch me dump you, you secondhand goods!"

The whole scene froze on the spot.

Everyone waited for me to climb out of the Mercedes and beg Michael Gilbert on my knees not to leave me.

Instead, I leaned my head out and said flatly,

"Move, or this car won't have eyes for you."

The instant I hit the gas, Michael Gilbert scrambled behind a pillar like he was running for his life.

The window rolled up, and the cursing in the parking lot faded away behind the glass.

That night Michael Gilbert sent me a long string of messages. I blocked him without a second thought.

The next morning, I broke out in a rash from a pollen allergy and was putting on ointment in my sister's office.

By the afternoon, word had spread through the whole company that I lived a wild private life and had caught some filthy disease.

In the restroom, Jeanette Dickerson came sashaying over to me.

"Bonnie Fox, want to guess whether Ms. Fox will still let you climb into bed once she finds out you've caught a filthy disease?"

3: 3

Calmly I pulled out a paper towel, dried the back of my hand, and looked at the smug face in the mirror.

"Whether Ms. Fox will or won't, I wouldn't know. But this much I do know: you'll never claw your way up and become somebody in this lifetime."

I turned to leave, and she blocked my path, her face twisted with anger.

Right then, the door to the next stall opened.

Cecilia James from finance stepped out. She glanced at my arm, then at Jeanette.

"Jeanette, that's enough."

Cecilia turned on the tap and washed her hands, her voice cold.

"The most important thing for a woman is her good name. You spend every day smearing people with filth like this. What's the point?"

The water rushed on.

She shook the water off her hands and turned to fix Jeanette with a stare.

"If you're really that jealous she gets driven around in a Mercedes, then go find yourself a rich man too. What are you being so bitter about in here?"

Like a mask ripped away, Jeanette's face flushed scarlet, and she shouted, "Iwhen did I ever envy her?!"

"Then why are you watching her every single day?" Cecilia rolled her eyes. "Nothing better to do."

Jeanette's eyes reddened again.

She bit her lip, shot me a vicious glare, and stalked off in her heels.

Cecilia clapped me on the shoulder. "Bonnie, don't mind her. The whole company knows what she's like. Any time a pretty intern shows up, she gets put through this."

Hearing that, I was a little surprised.

So Jeanette treated the company like her own arena for tearing other women down.

Lucky me. Tearing down women who love to tear down women happens to be my specialty.

I'd barely sat down at my desk when my phone buzzed.

I picked up, and an oily man's voice came through. "Heard you're pretty easy. Name your price."

I said nothing, just hung up and blocked the number.

The next second, texts started pouring in one after another.

*Bed-hopping slut, how much for a night?*

*I've got a Mercedes and a big-name sports car. Want to give it a try?*

*Cheap whore, come out and turn your tricks!*

I stared at the screen, my fingertips going cold.

Across the desk, Jeanette's eyes were full of smugness and challenge.

It was clear enough to me. I screenshotted every one of them and saved them to my cloud drive.

At the same time, a few email alerts popped up in the bottom corner of my screen.

*Miss Fox, we'll be switching the handoff for the follow-up project to Miss Jeanette Dickerson. Apologies.*

I opened the second, then the third.

The wording was identical, like it had been copied and pasted.

I leaned back in my chair and tipped my head up at the ceiling.

Those clients were ones I'd pulled off three all-nighters to close.

I'd reworked the slides a dozen times, written proposals until four in the morning, and shown up the next day pitching with dark circles under my eyes.

I gave a small laugh.

Never mind. I hadn't been counting on that commission to put food on the table anyway.

But having it taken from me like this felt like swallowing a fly.

I closed the email and opened a document to keep working on a new proposal.

Michael's call came through. I meant to hang up on it, but my thumb slipped and hit answer.

"Bonnie Fox!" His voice came crashing down on me. "You put your coworkers up to workplace bullying! Ganging up on a girl from a poor family! Are you even human?"

"Come out right now and apologize to Jeanie! Right now! This instant! Do you hear me? Bonnie Fox! Bon"

"Michael, were you born from a toad? You're deafening."

I hung up and blocked him, one smooth move.

The screen went dark, and I flipped the phone face-down on the desk.

I'd typed two keystrokes when Manager Lambert called me into his office.

There were seven or eight cigarette butts piled in the ashtray on his desk, and the cramped space reeked of stale smoke.

He looked me up and down out of the corner of his eye and pushed a few sheets of A4 paper across the desk.

"Bonnie Fox, your recent personal conduct"

He cleared his throat, his shifty eyes darting toward my chest while his face put on a picture of propriety.

"has seriously damaged the company's image and the team atmosphere. After a full review, the company has decided to terminate your employment."

I froze, almost thinking I'd misheard. "On what grounds?"

"Still asking on what grounds? You know perfectly well in your own heart! Rumor or fact" He spread his hands. "None of it matters. What matters is that the whole company's talking about it now. You staying on is good for no one."

I nearly laughed from sheer anger and asked coldly, "Terminating an employee requires Ms. Fox's approval. You don't have that authority."

Lambert leaned back, and the leather chair let out a creak.

"Bonnie Fox, filthy as you've gotten, you still think Ms. Fox would protect you?"

He added, unhurried, "I'll tell you the truth. I've already sent Ms. Fox the photos of your filthy disease."

4: 4

I let out a cold laugh. "So what did Ms. Fox say back?"

"She hasn't replied yet. But think about it"

He stood, came around the desk, and stopped half a meter from me, the reek of cigarettes off his breath enough to make me gag.

"You know what kind of person Ms. Fox is? Worth hundreds of millions, young, already made a name for herself, and the national boxing champion on top of it. If she found out you slept your way up and caught some filthy disease along the way, she'd sooner bury you than protect you."

I looked at him, and all at once it made sense.

Bernard had moved to fire me before my sister could say a word.

He was buying loyalty. Handing over a token to prove himself.

He just didn't know one thing.

The person he was groveling to was my own sister.

"Manager Lambert." I pressed my fingertip to the sheet of paper and slid it slowly back toward him.

"Fine, fire me. But I'm not leaving until my sister gets back."

"Bonnie Fox, are you out of your mind? The company's letting you go and you're waiting for your sister to come pick you up?"

I gave a cold laugh. "Manager Lambert, hasn't it occurred to you that Ms. Fox and I share the same last name? That we look a lot alike?"

Bernard froze. When it sank in, every bit of color drained from his face.

I didn't spare him another glance. I pulled the door open and walked out.

The hallway was strangely quiet. Only in the break room could I hear people talking under their breath.

"She really got fired?"

"Manager Lambert called her in himself. You think that's fake?"

"Serves her right. Should've thought about today before she went crawling into bed with someone. And here I used to think she was pretty capable."

I walked past, expression blank, and the voices cut off at once.

Not long after, Bernard sent me over a hundred messages.

Telling me not to work so hard, to go get that rash looked at right away.

Those clients that were supposed to go to Jeanettehe wanted me to come back and keep handling all of them.

The fawning was a complete reversal of the man from minutes ago.

I didn't answer a single one. I grabbed my bag and went to the clinic downstairs to buy medicine.

The rash was itching worse and worse. I had to get something on it.

I hadn't expected to walk straight in on Michael steadying Jeanette as they came out from between the shelves,

a bottle of heart medication in his hand.

My push on the door stalled.

Michael's hand sprang off Jeanette's waist as if he'd been scalded, and he frowned. "Bonnie Fox, are you following me?"

"You own this clinic?" I stepped around him toward the counter.

"What's your problem?" He grabbed my arm, then something crossed his mind and he jerked back a step. "You've gone and caught some filthy disease out there, and you still think you're setting foot in the Gilbert house?"

"Michael, I'll say this one last time."

I turned around, out of patience, and stared straight into those pitch-black eyes.

"One, we broke up. Two, if there's no mirror at your house, go find a puddle and take a good look. At yourselfarrogant, delusional, and out of your mind."

The white light off the counter hit his face, and it went a frightening shade of pale.

I didn't look at him again. I raised a hand and waved it in front of the counter clerk. "Hi. I'd like a tube of Elocon."

The clerk snapped back to herself and turned to get it with an awkward smile.

Then Jeanette came over, one hand braced on the shelf, her whole face arranged into pity. "Bonnie, my cousin's in dermatology at the city hospital. This morning I sent her your photos"

She paused, the corner of her mouth trembling faintly. "She said it's syphilis."

The fluorescent tube overhead flickered.

The clerk's hand, already holding the Elocon, snapped back.

She looked at the rash on my arm from across the counter, the disgust plain in her eyes. "Miss, you really should go to a hospital for this."

I looked down at my own arm. The red rash had spread thick and dense, running together in a solid patch.

The itch dug in like a needle. The allergic reaction was only getting worse.

I drew a breath and explained, "Syphilis doesn't break out on the arm. You work at a clinic and you don't even know that much?"

"But this lady's cousin said"

I cut her off. "Her cousin's a dermatologist? Licensed? And she diagnosed it off a photo?"

The clerk had nothing to say to that. But she still made no move to hand over the Elocon.

I didn't want to keep going around in circles. I turned to leave, and Michael's voice chased me from behind. "Bonnie Fox, you stop right there!"

"You bullied Jeanette at work, you set off her heart condition, and today you're getting on your knees and apologizing!"

I hit my limit and shouted back at him. "Michael, if your eyes are bad, go see a doctor!"

But Jeanette leaned into the shelf, right on cue, her body going half-limp,

lips white, her breathing turning quick and ragged. "Michael, my chest hurts so much"

Michael whipped around to look at her.

Jeanette seized his hand, tears dropping one after another.

"Michael, don't blame Bonnie. It's my fault. I shouldn't have told her a woman should have some self-respect."

He turned back to me, his eyes churning with fury.

Seeing me stand there without moving, he gave a cold laugh and crossed to the door in two strides.

One push, the glass door swung shut, and the lock clicked into place.

"Bonnie Fox, you don't apologize today, you don't get out that door!"

The two other customers in the clinic pulled out their phones and aimed the lenses at me.

The fluorescent light droned.

My arm itched like it had been set on fire, and my head was going hazy.

Michael was a stubborn man. I'd figured that out back when he was chasing me.

But this was urgent now, and I didn't want to waste more breath on him.

I took out my phone to call my dad, and the clinic's glass door exploded.

Shards scattered across the floor with a crash.

My sister stood there against the light, the lines of her arms drawn taut as steel bars.

The boxing gloves on her hands were still smeared with bloodone look and you knew she'd rushed back straight from the middle of a match.

It was close to a hundred degrees out, but her voice came cold as ice.

"Who locked the door?"