Even Cold Billionaires Crave My Praise

I was supposed to be the strategic infiltrator. The System, my handler in this absurd mission, had a target: a difficult, emotionally distant CEO. The plan? Get close to him through the one soft spot he had—his mildly autistic son. I, Anya Reed, am a natural cheerleader, the kind of person who sees the glass half-full, then asks if you need help finding a matching coaster. A single bite of a despised carrot? “That’s fantastic!” The boy speaks a new word? “You’re amazing!” So, the breakthrough was bound to happen. What I hadn’t prepared for was the fallout. When I had to request a single day off for a family event, the little boy panicked. “You’re leaving me, aren’t you?” “Please don’t go. If you do, take me with you.” “I don’t want Dad anymore. I’m only going to be with you from now on.” Callan Finch, who had just walked in hoping for a quiet, long-overdue bonding moment with his son: Wait, what?

1 My System and I are, collectively, Team Procrastination. When it first paired me with this mission—to capture the heart of the notoriously icy, ruthlessly powerful, and legendarily bad-tempered CEO, Callan Finch—we both froze. We heard tales of his cold indifference and the potential for a career-ending, soul-crushing revenge if I messed up. So, we stalled. One day turned into another. Finally, under pressure from the System’s upper management, we devised a plan: The Curveball Strategy. Callan had a son, Archie, who had been diagnosed with mild autism. If I could win over the boy first, it would be my golden ticket to getting closer to the father. The next day, with the System’s help, I was successfully hired as Archie’s new governess. I said a cheerful, professional “Hello” to the small, unsmiling figure standing before me. He ignored me completely and walked out. 2 As a professional layabout, I was thrilled. What’s better than a paycheck for doing virtually nothing? The System, citing Archie’s diagnosis, managed to extend my deadline, giving me a few more weeks of blissful, low-effort living. It was late summer. Archie wasn’t in school. My duties consisted of making three meals a day, light tidying, and making sure the small human didn’t set the mansion on fire. Day One: Archie quietly built an epic LEGO structure. I, perched on the plush sofa, devoured five romance novels on my tablet. Day Two: Archie spent the entire day reading. I meticulously recreated every complicated, late-night food craving I’d scrolled past on Instagram. Day Three: Archie spent the afternoon examining bugs beneath a massive old oak tree in the backyard. I happily sunbathed on the lawn. I must have fallen asleep because when I woke, the sun was sinking. I called Archie to come in, promising him a decadent dessert. I couldn’t tell if it was my imagination, but Archie dropped the rock he was holding so fast it looked like a cartoon. His pace quickened significantly as we headed inside. Kids loved sugar. And honestly, this one was a breeze—quiet, calm, and zero drama. Nothing like the “mini-tyrant, ruthlessly stubborn” version of his father the System had warned me about. System: “Hey, I only read the job description! But seriously, the kid seems fine. Host, maybe pick up the pace a little?” Right. Back to the mission. 3 At lunch, I gave Archie bite-sized steak and some sautéed vegetables. It was the first time I saw him pick at his food. He meticulously separated the small squares of carrots. “Don’t like those?” I asked. He looked up, met my eye for a split second, and went back to his task. I figured it was a dumb question. Obviously, he didn’t like them. I hate waste, though. “Okay, you know what? I’ll take care of these. And I promise I won’t put any carrots in your stir-fry tomorrow. Deal?” This time, he didn’t ignore me. His lashes fluttered a few times, and he gave a quick, almost imperceptible nod. The System and I screamed internally. The kid is adorable! I wanted to scoop him up and squeeze him, but I restrained myself to avoid being labeled the “weird governess.” I genuinely like carrots—sweet, crunchy, satisfying. I was enjoying them so much I was already on my second helping of pasta. Suddenly, Archie reached out with his fork and tentatively picked up a piece of carrot. I held my breath. He ate it. In my family, eating something you hate earns a standing ovation. I gave him a massive thumbs-up. “Archie, that is absolutely amazing! I’m so proud of you!” A faint, surprised blush crept across his cheeks. Seconds later, he picked up a second piece. Ate it. “Archie, you are absolutely fantastic!” A third piece. “Archie, you’re brilliant.” A fourth and a fifth. Facing his slightly expectant eyes, I tested the waters: “Amazing?” The spark of expectation in his eyes was instantly snuffed out. He finished the rest of his pasta but didn’t touch another carrot. I spent the rest of the afternoon in intense internal debate with the System. Did Archie love my praise, or did he hate it? 4 Later that evening, I was tidying his play area. Archie silently started putting his books and blocks back in place. “Archie, you are so thoughtful,” I said casually. He visibly brightened, working harder, putting an entire corner away by himself, even breaking a light sweat. The System had a sudden revelation. “Host, he doesn’t just like praise—he craves it. And it has to be sincere, specific, and totally unreserved.” Aha. The next day, I made a deal. I baked a massive batch of cookies and brownies. For every correct, clearly spoken word, he got a dessert and a round of applause. Under my expectant gaze, Archie whispered his first word to me: “An…ya…” I nearly tackled him. “Archie, that is FANTASTIC!” The combination of sugar and adoration was irresistible. He quickly began naming objects. For every successful identification, I called him “brilliant,” “smart,” and “amazing.” When it was bedtime, I knelt down to say goodnight. Archie gave me a shy, tentative smile. “Anya, goodnight.” I hugged him, keeping it brief and appropriate. Honestly, Archie was melting my heart. If Callan’s son was this gorgeous, the CEO himself must be ridiculously handsome. System: “Host, are you getting antsy to meet the big boss? We nailed the son quickly. Maybe the father will be just as easy?” I rolled my eyes. “Dream on, System. He only just said my name. Kids’ affections are quick to arrive and even quicker to disappear.” Unfortunately, I was right. A few days later, Archie started school. When the driver brought him home, he’d rush straight to his room without even looking at me. 5 A week later, I got a frantic call from Archie’s school counselor. Archie had gotten into an altercation with another student. The counselor was highly critical of me, the parent, for being unavailable. He mentioned he’d only ever reached an assistant, and chastised me for letting work consume my attention to the point of neglecting my child. An assistant? That must be someone from Callan’s side. If they were calling me, did that mean Callan was completely checked out? The thought of Archie alone and vulnerable sent me rushing out the door. “Counselor, I’m here. What happened to Archie?” A male teacher pointed to a large boy and his furious-looking parents standing nearby. “That child was scratched by Archie. They are demanding an apology and payment for medical expenses.” The other boy looked twice Archie’s size. Archie scratched him? “You must be the parent,” the other boy’s mother sneered. “No wonder the child has poor socialization skills. The apple doesn’t fall far from the criminally irresponsible tree.” Her son, a fleshy little bully, yelled over his mother. “Archie Finch is a psychopath! A worthless punk who needs to be locked up! I’m calling the police, and I hope they throw you both in a cell!” Archie, hearing the abuse, stood with his hands clenched, his small body shaking with furious indignation. I saw red. “Hey! You watch your mouth, kid!” I snapped. “Who started this is anyone’s guess. You want to call the police? Go ahead! Call them!” “My Archie doesn’t lay a finger on anyone unless he’s provoked. We are checking the surveillance footage, and until I know the full story, none of you are leaving.” The parents, predictably, were ready for a fight. The three of us were immediately locked in a shouting match. But as I yelled on his behalf, defending him fiercely, I saw the anger and distress drain from Archie’s face. It was replaced by a look I hadn’t seen before—deep affection mixed with a kind of relieved joy. 6 The surveillance footage was definitive. The larger boy, using his size advantage, had maliciously squeezed Archie against a desk. When Archie was pinned, the bully started shoving him. Archie fought back. I lifted Archie’s pant leg. Sure enough, there was a nasty bruise on his shin from where he’d been kicked. My heart ached with a mix of fury and empathy. Pointing at the other parents, I said, “Your son will apologize to Archie, and you will pay for all medical treatment—every penny.” Their bravado vanished. They forced an apology, paid me a few thousand dollars in cash, and slunk away. I took Archie to a clinic. After the ointment was applied, I gently rubbed his head. “Archie, if you ever get picked on at school, you have to tell someone—me, Mr. Davies, your father—anyone.” He didn’t answer. I guessed he just didn’t want to talk about it. If his dad actually cared, I wouldn’t be here, I thought. I quickly changed the subject. “Archie, why did you ignore Anya for so many days? It made me sad. I missed you.” He bit his lip, hesitating for a long moment before finally whispering the reason. “Scared… scared you wouldn’t like me.” I thought about it. “Were you scared I’d think you were a mean kid for fighting, and then I’d stop liking you? Is that it?” He nodded. My soft heart broke a little. I pulled him into a gentle embrace. “Archie, you don’t ever have to worry about me not liking you. No matter what, I love you, okay?” Archie’s eyes lit up. He wrapped his small arms around me and whispered, tiny and soft, “Mama.” 7 I froze. The System went completely offline. It wasn’t until a newly reconciled child nearby started crying and calling for his mother that I realized: He must have just been reflecting what he saw. He was simply longing for a mother figure. The System, now rebooted, urged me to ask what he’d just called me. Archie shook his head and repeated, “Anya.” “See? I told you. It was a fleeting moment of misplaced longing. This mission is still tough. The kid isn’t easily won over.” System: “Fair point. But guess what? I just successfully petitioned for another six months’ extension on the deadline. Happy now?” I gave the System a mental high-five. Being slackers together was a special kind of happiness. Another blissful half-month passed. It was time for my cousin Melody’s wedding. I had to go. She was the kind of person who, even when broke, would spend their last dollar on a ridiculous pair of designer heels for my birthday. That kind of devotion deserved my presence. I told Mr. Davies, the butler, and Archie that I would be taking three days off. But as I zipped up my overnight bag, Archie panicked. “Anya, where are you going?” “Archie, I’m taking a three-day leave. I have a family event at home.” Archie frowned. “Leave. What does that mean?” 8 Ah, so the little guy didn’t understand the concept of a ‘day off.’ I knelt to explain. “It means I’m temporarily pausing my job. I won’t be your governess for three days. I have to go do something else.” “What do you have to go do?” “Uh… go to someone’s wedding.” Archie was still processing this. Assuming he understood, I turned to walk toward the door. He darted forward, throwing his arms around my waist. His voice was thick with panic and insecurity. “Anya, you’re leaving me, aren’t you?” “Please don’t go. If you do, take me with you.” “I don’t want Dad anymore. I’m only going to be with you from now on.” I was stunned. His eyes were actually turning pink with unshed tears. I wiped his eyes, ready to soothe him. At that moment, the front door swung open. The first person through was Callan Finch. Hair slicked back, a custom-tailored suit that looked unfairly expensive, and those eyes—narrow, cool, and carrying a distinct air of command. System: “Target sighted. Commence Operation Act Cool.” Before I could process my reaction, a woman strode past Callan and marched toward me. “Let go of Archie! What are you trying to achieve by putting those words in his mouth?” I was baffled. The System was equally clueless. She reached for Archie, but he only clung to me tighter, clearly recoiling from her touch. The woman adopted a sickly sweet smile. “Archie, it’s Veronica. Daddy’s Executive Assistant. Don’t you remember me?” It clicked. “So, you’re the assistant?” Veronica Hale straightened, giving me a dismissive sneer. “The assistant? Who are you to address me like that?” “Don’t think I don’t know your type. You’re trying to use the child to get a leg up with the boss, right? Look at yourself. Do you really think you’re even in the same league?” I was about to fire back when Archie suddenly shouted, “You’re ugly!” “Dad, she’s not good enough for Anya.” Veronica’s eyes went wide. She’d just been insulted by a five-year-old. Standing nearby, Callan’s eyes widened sharply. “Archie, you spoke?”