Chapter 2

During the lunch break, Wayne shouted from his office, "Meredith, get in here!"

His tone was imperious and commanding, like he was calling out to livestock on a farm.

I swallowed down the discomfort rising inside me and walked in.

Wayne tapped the bill on his desk with his cigar.

"Meredith, the company is currently covering this bill for you. Now, it's not that we're short on cash, but we're not going to be a sucker and cover it for you indefinitely.

"Since you didn't pay up this morning, that'll be another five thousand dollars in interest. Don't worry. I won't keep it for myself. I'll use it to treat everyone to afternoon tea."

The office door was open, so when my colleagues outside heard this, they burst into cheers.

They shouted "Wayne, you're the man!" and "Long live Wayne!"

Wayne's smirk grew even wider at the commotion outside.

Looking at that smug face of his, I felt a suffocating tightness in my chest.

"Wayne, this bill isn't even something I should be paying in the first place, so how can you add interest on top of it? I haven't taken a single cent in overtime pay, yet you want me to cover rent and utilities? There's no logic in that."

Wayne stubbed his cigar into the ashtray, his voice suddenly sharp and loud.

"Logic? You're the only one in the whole company who stays until midnight every day! Honestly, for all your effort, your performance is still the same. If you use company resources, you pay for them—that's the logic!"

I kept my cool and argued my case.

"For five years, my performance has ranked first in this entire company. So no, I do not accept that my work is subpar in any way! And forcing me to bear these costs without cause is a violation of labor law!"

Seeing he couldn't win that way, Wayne changed tactics.

"Just because your performance is good doesn't mean you can waste the company's utilities and supplies as you please."

He tossed out a surveillance photo of me standing in front of the printer.

"Take a look at what you're printing."

I glanced at it. It was from a few days ago, when Wayne's wife, Bianca Platt, had asked me to print an elementary worksheet for their son, Trevor Richmond, before picking him up.

"Bianca asked me to print those."

Wayne declared righteously, "Never mind who asked you to—how could you use company property for personal matters without authorization? And what about those two desk lamps at your workstation? How much electricity have they consumed over all these years?"

Wayne listed my "wrongdoings" one by one. He even took note of the fact that I had three phones, which occupied two more charging ports than everyone else.

However, he forgot that I had bought those lamps with my own money because I spent years drafting proposals late into the night. Moreover, the contacts saved across all three phones were the company's major clients.

I monitored client messages around the clock and didn't even switch the phones off during the New Year break. And every month, I paid the 200-dollar phone bill straight out of my own pocket.

Wayne never once asked about these sacrifices of mine. On the contrary, he always took them completely for granted.

He listed the items for a full five minutes, then smacked his lips.

"Look at this—the cost of keeping you alone far exceeds your performance output. So, shouldn't you be the one paying?"

He fixed his gaze on me, his tone brooking no argument.

I tried to argue further, but Wayne's patience had run out.

"I'll say it one more time—I want to see 75 thousand dollars in my bank account by the end of the day tomorrow."

I clenched my fists and walked out of the office.

Back at my desk, Tammy came over and patted my shoulder with false sympathy.

"Meredith, don't be so stubborn. Just pay it all today and save yourself some interest. Otherwise, the longer you drag this out, the more you'll owe. And that salary of yours isn't going to cover it."

The intern, Nicki Eaton, chimed in as well.

"Yeah, Wayne's going to spend that money on all of us anyway. Show a little team spirit, Meredith. Don't be such a buzzkill. And if you're really short on cash, just take out a loan online or something."

Another colleague, Pete Reilly, snorted as he typed away.

"All that pretending to work late finally caught up with you, huh? Let this be a lesson to everyone—don't kill yourselves over a pointless hustle."