The Mafia's Golden Agreement

CHELSEA

As usual, many employees greeted me when I entered the building owned by my father.

“Good morning, Miss Chelsea. Your dad has been looking for you and calling you since earlier,” Melody said nervously as she approached me. 

Melody used to be my father’s personal secretary before I started working at the office. Now, there are two of us serving as his secretaries, but aside from that, I am also in charge of the marketing team that handles the promotions for our company’s newly launched juice brand.

“Why?” I asked immediately. 

I knew my father would not look for me repeatedly unless he needed something. This was nothing new to me. He always calls me whenever he needs something. 

Aside from my work, I also absorb my father’s stress and tension. There is not a day that passes without me hearing something unpleasant, something I have already gotten used to.

“Boss is in a bad mood. I don’t really know why,” Melody replied as we walked quickly together.

When I reached my father’s office, I knocked twice before slowly opening the door. 

“Good morning, Dad,” I greeted as I stepped closer to his desk.

Angrily, he slammed several documents onto the table in front of me.

“What is this, Chelsea? Are you actually working or not?” he shouted.

I quickly picked up the papers and saw that they were the company’s sales report for the current month.

“Dad, our sales rate increased by two percent compared to last month,” I explained, not seeing any reason for his anger.

“That’s not enough, Chelsea! Two percent is too small!” he yelled. “You’re really useless. This is the only job you have, and you still can’t do it right. Do you think you can grow my company with the two percent you’re so proud of? Is your brain empty now? Can’t you come up with a new marketing strategy? Change this month’s promotion immediately! If I see the same numbers next time, you’ll regret it!”

He shouted furiously while I stood straight, my face showing no emotion. What else should I expect? I am used to this already. In fact, his words have become like wind passing through my mind, entering one ear and leaving through the other. The mask I wear helps me hide the painful truth, that his words still hurt me deeply.

I have learned to accept days like this. Nothing will change if I cry in a corner like I used to before. I never wanted to be less intelligent than my father. He says my knowledge is very limited and that I will never succeed in life. I would not be surprised if one day he hands over the management of this company and our other family businesses to someone else.

I no longer expect my father to trust me with managing all our family properties. The truth is, he has no confidence in my abilities. He always looks down on me. No matter what I do, it is never enough. That is why, in moments like this, I simply stand in silence and listen to my father’s insults.

“Did you understand what I said, Chelsea?” my father asked loudly.

“Yes, Dad,” I replied, snapping back to reality.

“Don’t just say yes, Chelsea! Do it!” he shouted.

I simply nodded and stood straight like a statue, continuing to endure the painful words coming directly from my father’s mouth.

“All right, you may leave now,” he finally ordered.

I felt like a robot, standing in front of him without any emotion while he continued his harsh lecture. 

I immediately turned around and left his office without saying a word. As much as possible, I did not want to stay there any longer because I already knew everything he was going to say.

“Are you okay, Miss Chelsea?” Melody asked with concern when I came out of my father’s office. She knows and sees how my own father treats me.

“Yeah. How’s his schedule today?” I asked Melody while looking at the notes taped on top of my desk. 

I leave reminders there because my workload is so heavy that I often run out of time to go through everything I need to do.

“Melody, you handle Dad’s schedule for now. I need to check on my marketing team,” I said as I handed her my planner. 

Melody is hardworking and reliable. She supports me in everything related to my father, which makes my job easier.

“All right, Miss Chelsea. I’ll take care of it,” she replied politely.

I left immediately because I still had many things to handle. I called a meeting with the entire team, and all our upcoming promotions went through intense planning and multiple revisions. Honestly, I understood why my teammates looked tired and discouraged, we spent long hours working to complete everything. Creating promotional materials is not easy, especially when we have to finish them in such a short time.

“Miss Chelsea, maybe we should consider changing our endorser,” Taylor suggested. He is the marketing head assigned to our ‘Earn and Rewards’ campaign next month. “Ashton Gilmore’s talent fee is very expensive. Perhaps we could save money and stay within the budget approved by Mr. President. We have many models lined up who are promising and capable.”

“That already has Dad’s approval, Taylor. You know he doesn’t like repeated options,” I replied. 

Once my father makes a decision, it is impossible to change it. Besides, I don’t want to face him just to say that, because I am sure I would hear more harsh words again.

Because we were so busy, I didn’t notice how much time had passed. If my phone inside my shoulder bag had not rung several times, I would not have remembered. I slapped my forehead, realizing that I needed to go home early.

“Hello, Mom,” I said as I answered her call.

“Chelsea, where have you been? Didn’t I tell you to come home early? Do I really have to keep calling and reminding you of your responsibilities? How careless can you be?” my mother’s sharp voice greeted me.

I closed my eyes. After all, my mother has no other work besides gossiping with her friends on social media and maintaining her appearance, so she does not know the effort it takes to balance all the tasks my father gives me along with the boring parties my parents insist on attending with me. I feel like a wind-up doll, programmed to follow and obey their wishes.

“I’m on my way home, Mom. I just needed to finish something,” I replied politely.

“I don’t care what you’re doing there! Come home right now so the beautician I hired can get you ready. I don’t want to be embarrassed by you showing up dressed like an old maid. Everyone attending is influential. Don’t embarrass me, Chelsea!” she snapped.

“Yes, Mom.”

I ended the call immediately and said goodbye to my coworkers. I knew they were working overtime because they were trying to finish the tasks my father had ordered us to redo. I felt sorry for them because I personally witnessed how they stayed up late and exhausted themselves just to create an advertisement that would look good and appeal to the public. All of that effort was wasted when my father rejected and discarded our proposal.

I was not surprised by how my father treated his employees. Even as his own child, I can feel that he places little value on me. How much more on the simple, ordinary employees who work with me every day?

My dad does not value relationships. For him, in the business world, competition is all that matters. He believes that using the heart has no place in business because it will only lead to failure. 

On this point, I strongly disagree. For me, the success of a business, big or small, depends on the good relationship between the owner and the employees.

It is exhausting and draining. I want to quit and give up, but I cannot.

CHELSEA

I was wearing a tight, figure-hugging black evening gown, standing beside my mother as she continued to lecture me. She kept telling me to find a way to use my position as the company’s marketing manager at the party tonight.

She repeated several times that we needed many investors and that these parties were important to them. In truth, my parents were not really attending the birthday party to socialize. Their real purpose was to compete with their friends and to find someone wealthier, either as a new investor or as a business partner for my father.

I find it strange because my father’s company is already independent, large, and stable. Yet even now, my parents still do not know how to be content. They are like children afraid that someone might take away the candy they are eating. I can feel that both of them are afraid of becoming poor, so they do everything they can to increase the company’s net worth.

I understand th