This Crazy Rich Boy

Claire later finds Braces—or Mary—crying in the ladies' room.

"Claudia's always like that," she sniffles. "Treating me like I'm worse than shit."

"Then why are you still working for her?" Claire asks, a commiserating hand on Mary's back. "You don't deserve to be treated that way."

"Yeah," Mary says, wiping her tears with the back of her hand now. "I need this job. And besides, when you're on Claudia's good side, it feels really good. Claudia has promised me she'll promote me to manager if I continue doing things for her."

"Did you ask for a definite timeline of when that would happen?"

"She just says 'Soon, soon,' that is, if I continue to perform well as her ȧssistant."

"How long have you been for working for her?"

"Three years, give or take a few months."

Claire frowns. "She's been taking you for a ride."

"What do you mean?"

"She's just saying she'll promote you so you will continue giving her your everything," Claire says, washing her hands in the sink. "Something tells me you're in for a nasty surprise."

Mary stops sobbing. She stares at Claire in the mirror, her eyes wide. "Oh, my God, you might be right!"

Claire shrugs. "People are like that, especially in a place like that."

"How are you able to know that? You look so young. You don't seem like you've been in many corporate offices, do you?"

"I just know," Claire says, "let's just leave it at that."

"No wonder you've got the plum job of serving Mr. Tan directly."

"Oh, Mary, there's so much you've yet to know." Claire smiles. "But for now, what say you to lunch at some swanky place?"

If Mary's eyes could pop out of their sockets, they would. "Are you serious? You really want to have lunch with me?"

"Why? Is that so hard to believe?"

Mary sniffles even more. "It's just that, I'm usually alone in everything I do here. Nobody wants to speak with me. Nobody wants to have anything to do with me. I'm at the bottom of everyone, even though I can be considered an ȧssistant manager, but without the official title."

Claire says nothing. She looks at Mary, weighing her next words. "Well, Mary, your luck may change soon. But let's take it one step at a time. If Mr. Tan doesn't appear by twelve noon, then we'll have a lunch date, alright?"

Mary beams. "Alright!"

Back at her desk, Claire starts exploring everything about the office on her computer. She peruses the organizational chart, and discovers that Claudia Santos is a senior manager of partnerships and business development, and her one and only underling is Mary, her ȧssistant of sorts. Something tells her there's more than meets the eye here. She suspects Mary is probably a savant, a brilliant strategist, but with no social skills. A nerd somebody like Claudia can take advantage of.

But why does Claire care? Why should she bother if there's some injustice being committed? She sighs. Because that's the kind if person she has always been.

Lunch time comes and no Gabriel Tan in sight. Claire asks Mrs. Gomez if Gabriel usually appears during the lunch break, and the trusty receptionist merely shrugs. "Nobody knows what happens in that head of his," Mrs. Gomez says. "But if he does arrive during lunch break, you have all rights to be NOT at your desk."

Claire smiles. "Okay."

She finds Mary in her cubicle typing furiously on her computer.

"What's the matter?"

"She wants me to finish up this report," Mary mutters, her eyes on the screen, her lips pale.

Claire looks around. "But Claudia's not here. She's out for lunch, like everyone else."

"But I have to get this done before she comes back. I must finish this."

Claire puts a hand on Mary's arm. "Stop it, Mary. It doesn't matter. You need fuel. It's not 'legal' to make you stay here while everyone else is out there happily having a bite."

Upon hearing the word "legal," Mary stops and looks at her. "Are you serious?"

"You're smart, Mary. I'm sure you know that."

Mary sighs. "Yeah, I know. It's just that… Claudia's disappointment terrifies me."

"Don't worry about that," Claire says. "And we have a lunch date. So get up and let's get going."

For a moment, Mary appears conflicted—should she go or should she stay is the obvious question sitting on her face. But Claire pulls her up, all childlike, and finally Mary relents.

The strange thing about Bella, in Mary's eyes, is that how on earth can she afford a limo service?

On their way to wherever they're supposed to have lunch, Mary keeps examining every detail of the passenger cabin of the limo, while Claire looks on bemused.

"Are you rich?" Mary asks at one point.

Claire laughs, but she remembers to laugh all Bella-like—or however fictitious behavior Bella is supposed to have. "This is not mine, This is all part of my employment package."

"Oh my God, you're kidding me!" Mary squeezes Claire in the arm. "How can that be possible? How can all those other ladies before you came walked out just like that, if this is part of the package?"

"I have no idea," Claire lies. "Maybe I'm just a bit lucky."

The limo stops in front of a swanky hotel—or at least, a former swanky boutique hotel, before Gabriel Tan's holdings company bought it.

"Oh," Mary mutters as she steps out of the limo. "I'm not sure if I can afford to eat here."

"Oh, that," Claire says. "My treat. Don't worry."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, let's step inside to be sure."

Mary's still apprehensive as they enter The Residence, Claire's "home." She gingerly steps on the lushly carpeted floor, her eyes darting everywhere, as though trying to commit to memory everything that she sees.

"This place is so luxurious, Bella," she says at one point. "A lunch here must cost an arm and a leg."

"Yeah," Claire says. "That is, if we have to pay for anything."

They enter the main restaurant, which for the time being has been repurposed into the main dining room of The Residence's sole resident, Claire Monteverde. It's strange to see an entire fine dining setup that's meant to cater to only a single person. The wait staff, the renowned chef, everyone in here has a single purpose: to serve Claire.

Mary has no inkling of that setup. She still thinks Bella here is just some girl lucky enough to have gotten some free ticket or something.

"Good afternoon, Cla—err, I mean, Miss Bella," Dale greets them by the threshold. "May I accompany you to your table?"

"Yes, please," Claire says, a faint smile curving a corner of her lips. She's inwardly finding all this funny. If only Mary knows.

As they settle at a corner table, the chef walks over and introduces his special "eight-course meal."

"Let me take you on a gastronomic journey spanning the European continent," the chef says, with an accent that Claire couldn't place. "Would you like me to describe the meal, madam? Or would you prefer me to simply surprise you?"

"Surprise us," Claire says. Mary giggles.

The chef bows ever so slightly and leaves without further word.

"Oh, my God, Bella! An eight-course lunch! This is fantastic!"

Claire also has no idea what the chef will bring out, but she pretends to be quite knowledgeable about the ways of the privileged. "You'll get quite used to it," she says, and inwardly she cringes at her own fakeness.

"I'm not sure I will get used to it," Mary chirps, "but I'm excited! This is my first time to have an eight-course meal!"

Me, too, Claire almost says. But before she could actually say anything, she catches sight of a figure standing in the far lobby of the hotel. The figure seems irritable, her voice spiking as she berates the concierge. Then she begins stomping towards the dining hall.

"Why in hell can you dine here and I can't," Claudia yells at them. "I need to talk to whoever manages this place." She notices Mary cowering in her seat. "And you—why on earth are you here?"