Chapter 2

If it was a sugar daddy situation...

Why would a boss leave a mere five hundred dollars a day?

No matter how you looked at it, it didn’t make sense.

By the time I finished taking my statement at the precinct, it was nearly noon. Carrying the forty-five thousand dollars in cash inside a paper bag, I headed straight back to the office.

I decided to confront Damian directly.

Regardless of his intentions, I couldn’t keep this money.

When I arrived at the company, I skipped my cubicle and walked straight toward the far end of the floor, where the executive office was located.

I reached the door, but before my hand could knock, voices drifted out from inside.

It was his secretary, Caleb Morgan.

He was reminding Damian, “Mr. Beaumont, have you put today’s money in yet?”

My hand froze midair, and I strained my ears to catch Damian’s reply.

Inside, silence held for a couple of seconds.

Then Damian offered a low, “Mm.”

Caleb hesitated for a moment before asking, “It’s been three months already. Are you still planning to keep this up?”

Instinctively, I held my breath.

A second later, Damian’s calm voice echoed through the door panel.

“Let’s continue.

“She’ll remember eventually.”

My whole body went rigid, my mind racing out of control.

Remember?

Remember what?

My grip on the paper bag tightened without me realizing it.

Right then, the office door suddenly swung open from the inside.

Damian walked out.

Our eyes met.

His gaze flicked down to the paper bag tucked in my arms, and a faint flicker of surprise crossed his eyes.

I parted my lips.

“Mr. Beaumont…”

Yet he acted as if nothing had happened, asking with absolute composure, “Is there something you need?”

Suddenly, I had no idea how to ask my question.

I stood at the office door, continuing to exchange silent looks with Damian.

The air hung quiet for a second or two.

Tentatively, I held out the brown paper bag to him.

He glanced down at the bag, looking completely unbothered—almost as if he had anticipated my arrival all along.

“Come inside and talk,” he said in a calm tone.

I followed him into the office.

Caleb glanced at me before quietly making his exit and pulling the door shut behind him.

The vast office was left with just the two of us.

I placed the paper bag on his executive desk and spoke nervously.

“Mr. Beaumont, this is your money. You left it with me and forgot to take it back.”

He glanced down at it, making no move to take the bag. Instead, he responded in an entirely offhand tone.

“Once it came out of your drawer, it became yours. It’s not mine.”

I almost took the bait. That was a full forty-five thousand dollars—an amount that would take me seven or eight months of hard work to earn.

If my inner sense of justice hadn’t prevailed over greed, I would have been as thrilled as if I’d won the lottery.

Lowering my head, I waved my hands as I explained, “Mr. Beaumont, I’ve already checked the security footage.

“Every morning at 7:40, you place five hundred dollars in my desk drawer.

“For ninety full days, adding up to forty-five thousand dollars.

“And now you’re telling me it isn’t yours? Are you trying to test me? This is definitely your money.”

Flashes of corporate schemes I’d read about—where companies set up employees to fire them without severance—raced through my mind.

Clarity hit me, followed by a wave of lingering fear.

Looking at the cash now, it felt less like a windfall and more like a ticking time bomb.

Damian fell silent for a few seconds before asking an unexpected question.

“Did you count all the money?”

I froze, my mind scrambling to catch up. Before I could stop myself, I blurted out the emotionally intelligent response I’d spent the entire ride back rehearsing with the help of an AI app.

“I appreciate your generosity, Mr. Beaumont, but…”

He let out a quiet, amused chuckle.

Only then did I realize what had happened, and I burned with embarrassment, wishing a hole in the floor would swallow me whole.

Recalling his question, I looked at him in total confusion.

“Wait... what?”

“Is the money all accounted for?” he repeated. “Not a single bill missing?”