Million-Dollar Shuttles Spark Workplace Revolt

I suddenly received a message from Giulia Marino, my secretary, who forwarded a few photos to my phone, along with a message. "Have a look at these photos, Ms. Sorrento—those from the shuttle crew sent them over this morning."

In the photos, under the soft glow of the streetlights, several female colleagues were stepping into black SUVs, and uniformed drivers in dark suits skillfully and precisely opened the doors for them.

They chatted and laughed, waving toward the camera, with one of them even blowing a kiss toward it. They looked completely relaxed—and entirely safe.

I couldn't help but smile faintly.

I was the daughter of Salvatore Sorrento, the most feared Don of the Sorrento Famiglia in Ashford, though no one knew my true identity.

I wanted every woman who worked for me to feel safe on their way home at night, which was why I invested hundreds of thousands of dollars to set up an exclusive fleet of vehicles.

Their entire fleet consisted of bulletproof SUVs, all driven by licensed professional drivers tied to the Mafia. Their route was continuously monitored through GPS, with service running nightly from 9:00 pm to 2:00 am.

They could all ride for free, and the cost of this benefit came to over 1,400 dollars a month per person, an expense that I covered entirely on my own.

It was three months into the initiative, and the response was overwhelmingly positive—with nearly every female employee taking advantage of the private shuttle service at night. They frequently took selfies from the backseats and posted them online, drawing a massive amount of attention.

I had assumed everyone would welcome this benefit—until a notification appeared on my phone. "I work in a company that offers free night shuttle services for female employees, but I feel as though I am being escorted home under guard."

I clicked on the notification and found that the author of the post was Bianca Valentini, a new intern at the company. She was young and beautiful, a primary target for protection by our shuttle crew.

She was incredibly sharp in her post, scathingly cutting right to the point.

"You all keep saying that we're lucky to have a female boss who cares about our safety and finally understands us, but to me, this doesn't feel like 'safety' at all; it feels more like a 'trap'!

"You see, she's basically using this shuttle system to bind us to our work, meaning we can't refuse overtime anymore. Traffic congestion? That's not something we need to worry about. Pitch-black night roads? The company will take responsibility for solving it.

"In the end, all we have to do is work our asses off! I'll be honest here. Where did our freedom go?"

She attached a photo of herself at the end of the post. She was walking toward the SUV with bloodshot eyes, as though she was stepping into confinement. She then added a caption, stating, "I don't need a shuttle service. I want freedom—not life as a monitored prisoner!"

I could only laugh in exasperation after looking at the post.

There was no mandatory overtime policy at our company. I had even issued a direct order prohibiting meetings after 5:00 pm to ensure all employees could leave on time. They simply chose to work overtime because the overtime compensation was excellent.

I found Bianca's so-called claim of being watched to be absolutely absurd. I had never made the shuttle service mandatory, as every employee had the right to refuse the ride.

Those people in the comments section were completely unaware of these facts, though.

"Oh, my God! How terrifying! That's not a company benefit! That's straight-up psychological manipulation!"

"That's such a typical wealthy-woman mentality. She thinks throwing money around gives her the right to act like a savior."

"Is this the so-called gilded cage?"

"Call her out and tear this company down!"

I kept receiving notifications on my phone, ranging from direct messages to tags and screenshots—all kinds of information flooded in overwhelmingly, and the speed at which the screen refreshed was so fast that I simply didn't have time to look closely.

I sent a short message to Giulia, stating, "Have Bianca come to my office."

Bianca showed up ten minutes later. She wasn't alone, either; three other female employees stood right behind her, with one of them being Chiara Gentile, who had actually reached out to us for emergency assistance just last month after her ex-boyfriend stalked her on her way home from work.

I had personally assigned two Soldatos from the Mafia to act as her bodyguards, yet now she was standing behind Bianca, looking away and refusing to make eye contact with me.

Bianca walked into my office and sat straight down on my couch. She addressed me directly, skipping my title entirely and using my first name. "I assume you've already seen my post, Serena."

I replied calmly, "I saw it. How exactly is a free bulletproof SUV with a licensed driver a 'trap,' though? I mean, spending upwards of 1,400 dollars per person every month doesn't exactly equal prisoner treatment."

Biance crossed her legs, a smug smile on her face as though victory were completely assured.

She listed out every single expense, saying, "You spend over 1,400 dollars a month per person, yet not a single cent of that money actually makes it into our paychecks. It all went toward the vehicles, driver salaries, gas, and insurance.

"In the meantime, we still lack genuine freedom, as we remain at the mercy of the shuttle timetable, and we are still required to hand over our home addresses to the company."

She then leaned toward me and continued, "Why not just give us the money instead? We could decide how to go home ourselves—take a cab, get a ride with friends, or even walk. That's real freedom. That's an actual company benefit."

I finally understood her intention after listening carefully. She wasn't looking for a safer commute—she just wanted to liquidate a collective company benefit into direct cash for herself.

I turned my gaze to the female employees behind her.

Chiara looked up, her lips parting as if to speak.

Bianca, however, cast a piercing glance toward her, causing Chiara to immediately lower her eyes.

I took a deep breath and said, "You ought to know that the shuttle service is an established initiative authorized by the board of directors. It will certainly not be modified simply because a single individual posted a bitter post online."

Bianca's smile froze instantly. "You think I'm the only one?"

She held up her phone, the screen showing the like count climbing steadily while the shares exploded. "You see these numbers, Serena? You ought to know that this stopped being about one person a long time ago.

"It represents the shared voice of every single professional woman in this city who is fed up with being manipulated!"

I pushed down my temper and tried to reason with her. "If you don't want to take the shuttle, then don't take it. I mean, no one is forcing you to, as this service is there for the people who actually need it."

Bianca shot to her feet, her expression instantly hardening. "If that's how you want to play—fine! I'll see who has the last laugh!"