Sweet For You, Ruthless For Others
Chapter 47: Clearing Her Name

Chapter 47: Clearing Her Name

"Thanks. I’ll need it."

Balancing the tray carefully, Hermia turned to leave the cafeteria but hesitated. There was something she wanted to do before heading back upstairs—a small personal errand she’d been meaning to take care of.

With a determined smile, she headed toward a quiet corner of the building, where her task awaited.

Hermia spotted an older woman mopping the hallway and approached her with a polite smile. "Excuse me, ma’am. Could you tell me where the janitors’ office is?"

The woman paused mid-swipe, resting her hands on the mop handle. "Depends. Which janitor are you looking for?"

Hermia hesitated briefly before replying, "The ones who cleaned the CEO’s office floor earlier today. I think they also cleaned my new office."

The woman narrowed her eyes slightly in thought before nodding. "Ah, those two. You’ll find them on the second floor. There’s a small room near the maintenance supplies closet—can’t miss it."

Hermia’s face brightened with gratitude. "Thank you so much. I really appreciate it."

The woman gave her a small, knowing smile. "No problem, dear. Just knock if they don’t hear you. They’re usually busy sorting equipment or chatting away."

Hermia nodded, her heart lightened by the woman’s kindness. "Got it. Thanks again!"

She headed upstairs, carefully counting the floors until she reached the second. True to the woman’s description, she found a plain door with a small plaque that read Janitorial Services. Taking a deep breath, she knocked twice.

A muffled voice called from within. "Come in!"

Hermia pushed the door open, stepping into the small, slightly cluttered room. The air smelled faintly of cleaning supplies and old coffee. Seated at a small, rickety table were the two janitors who had cleaned her office earlier—a middle-aged woman with short-cropped hair and a stocky man with graying temples.

As she entered, their gazes flicked up to her, their expressions guarded and vaguely annoyed. Their postures stiffened, and though they tried to mask it with thin politeness, Hermia could feel the cold edge in the air.

"What do you need?" the woman asked sharply, leaning back in her chair with crossed arms.

"Is there a problem?" the man added, his tone clipped. His eyes scanned her, his gaze landing briefly on her polished shoes and the coffees she carried.

Hermia’s stomach tightened, but she held her ground, determined to stay composed. Why are they looking at me like I’ve intruded on their sacred space? she thought, her disappointment swelling. "I just wanted to thank you both for the work you did in my office earlier," she said, her voice steady despite the unease curling in her chest. "It looks great. I really appreciate it."

The woman raised an eyebrow, her lips pursing skeptically. "That’s... nice of you, I guess," she said, the sarcasm barely concealed.

The man exchanged a glance with her, as if they were silently discussing Hermia’s motives. "Is that all?" he asked, the underlying rudeness unmistakable.

Hermia blinked, momentarily taken aback by their tone. Anger flared in her chest, but she suppressed it. Is this really how they treat someone who’s trying to be polite? Why do people assume the worst so quickly?

She cleared her throat, straightening her posture. "Actually," she said, her voice gaining a sharper edge, "I also wanted to clear up a misunderstanding. I overheard... comments earlier, and I think it’s only fair to tell you I’m not one of the CEO’s ’desperate hoes.’" She practically spat the last words, her green eyes flashing.

The janitors froze, their faces draining of color.

"I’m his new secretary," Hermia continued, her tone firm but not aggressive. "I had to take medication earlier, which knocked me out. That’s why you found me asleep. I’m here to thank you for the work you did in my new office, which, by the way, is fantastic."

The woman’s mouth opened, then closed, clearly at a loss for words. The man shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting to the floor.

"We... we didn’t mean..." the woman stammered.

"We didn’t know," the man added quickly, his voice laced with regret. "We just assumed..."

Hermia raised a hand, cutting off their apologies. "It’s fine," she said, though her tone left no doubt she’d been hurt by their behavior. "I’m not here to hold grudges. I brought coffee for you both."

She placed the two extra cups she’d brought on the table. "I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I picked something that’s pretty universal. Hope you enjoy it."

The janitors exchanged stunned looks, their regret evident.

"Thank you," the woman said, her voice soft now, humbled.

Hermia gave them a small smile and turned to leave, but the man called after her.

"Wait!" he said, almost desperately.

She paused, glancing over her shoulder.

"I’m Tom," he said quickly. "And this is Judy. We’ve been here a while, but... we misjudged you. We’re sorry."

Judy nodded, her face still pink with embarrassment. "Really sorry. And thank you—for the coffee, and for being so understanding."

Hermia hesitated, then smiled warmly. "Nice to meet you both. I’m Hermia."

They smiled nervously, watching her as she left. The moment the door closed behind her, Tom leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly.

"She’s not at all what I expected," he said.

Judy shook her head, staring at the coffee cup Hermia had left. "She’s classy, kind, and clearly smarter than we gave her credit for. And that coat... she looks so put-together. Who is she, really?"

Tom shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. "I guess we’ll find out."

As Hermia made her way upstairs, the coffees balanced carefully in her hands, she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure out of the corner of her eye. Her breath hitched. Dad?

Her father’s unmistakable profile came into view as he walked briskly down the corridor, flanked by a few suited men. Her heart dropped, and she instinctively ducked behind the nearest wall, pressing her back against the cold surface.

What is he doing here? she wondered, her pulse quickening. Business, probably. He didn’t look around, his focus entirely on the men beside him.

Hermia swallowed hard, her thoughts racing. How would he react if he knew I never actually left for America? Would he feel bad? Would he even look for me?

The thought stung, and she bit her lip to keep the emotions at bay. Her grip on the coffee tray tightened.

As her father disappeared from view, she let out a shaky breath, her chest constricting with a mix of anger, sadness, and frustration. I shouldn’t let this get to me, she told herself firmly. I’m at work now. I need to focus.

Still, the questions lingered, clouding her mind as she ascended the stairs.

She glanced down at the coffees in her hands, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Just keep moving forward, Hermia. You’ve got this.

By the time she reached her floor, she had pushed the encounter to the back of her mind, determined not to let it ruin her day.

Hermia pushed open the office door, only to find it completely empty. The silence felt almost eerie, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning.

Her eyes swept across the room, and she sighed, the tray of coffee cups feeling heavier in her hands. Where are they? she wondered, glancing around as if Niklaus and Steffon might suddenly materialize.

Deciding not to dwell on it, she walked over to Niklaus’ desk, setting down the cup of chocolate coffee she’d picked out for him. Her lips quirked into a small smile as she placed it neatly, imagining his reaction. Would he be surprised? Grateful?

Moving on, she crossed the room to Steffon’s desk, carefully placing his coffee there as well. She hesitated for a moment, then straightened the stack of papers beside it. There. All set.

Finally, Hermia retreated to her own office. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it for a brief second, letting out another long sigh. The day had already been a rollercoaster of emotions, and she wasn’t sure how much more she could handle.

Shaking off her thoughts, she walked to her desk and sat down, pulling out the files she’d been working on earlier. Focus, she reminded herself. But as she flipped through the pages, a niggling thought crept in.

Where were they, though? she mused, her gaze flickering toward the glass wall separating her office from the main room. The stillness was almost unsettling.

After a while, Hermia saw them returning. She caught sight of Niklaus first, stepping inside with his usual commanding presence, Steffon trailing behind him, holding a tablet and murmuring something.

Her breath hitched as her gaze zeroed in on Niklaus, his sharp suit impeccable, his hair perfectly in place. He exuded an aura of control, yet there was a subtle softness in his demeanor as his eyes roved around the room.

He stopped abruptly when he spotted the coffee on his desk. His gaze flicked to her office, his dark eyes locking with hers through the glass wall.