Chapter 3

The moment the message was sent, the group chat exploded.

“Long live the boss!”

“Oh my god, the Azure Haven Islands! I’ve dreamed of going there!”

“Ten thousand per person? What kind of dream company is this?”

“Mr. Shaw, you’re the best!”

I stared at the flood of emojis and praise without any expression.

The same people who had just called me “corrupt” and accused me of “money laundering” in the break room were now spamming the chat with thank-you memes.

Daniel: “Mr. Shaw, you’re amazing! I knew sticking with you was the right choice!”

Maggie: “Thank you, Mr. Shaw! I’m going to start looking up travel guides right now!”

Eric: “Ahhh! I’m buying new swim trunks for photos!”

Hah.

Their attitudes changed faster than flipping a page.

Just as the excitement in the chat reached its peak, an untimely message popped up.

Julian: “Azure Haven Islands? That’s where tacky rich people go. Hot, crowded, and totally basic.”

The scrolling messages in the chat abruptly stopped.

Julian kept going. “Anyone with real taste these days goes to Nordhaven to see the northern lights and stay in glass cabins. That’s what a real life experience looks like.”

He tagged me directly.

“Boss, did you pick an island just to save money? Or is this really the level of your taste?”

I stared at the screen, the corner of my mouth curling into a cold smile.

My fingers tapped across the keyboard.

“This time of year in Nordhaven? It’s the polar night season, with temperatures around negative twenty or thirty degrees.

“There’s nothing to do except stay indoors. And visas take time to process. We’re leaving next month. It’s impossible to arrange in time.”

Julian replied instantly.

“Visas are an admin problem. If they can’t handle it, that’s just incompetence. And as for the cold, you just don’t understand the beauty of it. The romance of the northern lights isn’t something a tacky island can compare to.”

Then he suddenly changed direction.

“Besides, with a ten-thousand-per-person budget, a trip to the Azure Haven Islands probably means basic beach villas anyway. If we can’t go to Nordhaven, honestly there’s no need for a company trip at all.”

He started a poll in the group chat.

“Suggestions for the company trip:

“A. Go suffer in the Azure Haven Islands (too hot, exhausting, and probably sharing rooms with coworkers)

“B. Convert the ten thousand into cash so everyone can do their own thing (wouldn’t buying a watch or new sneakers be way better?)”

After posting the poll, he tagged everyone again.

“Don’t kid yourselves. Company retreats are just work in a different location. You still have to keep the boss happy and sit through all those cringe team-building games.

“It’s exhausting. Cash is way better. Ten grand! That’s enough for a nice watch or several months of mortgage payments.”

As soon as the poll appeared, the numbers started jumping wildly.

At first a few people chose A, probably those who actually wanted to travel.

But after Julian posted, “Anyone choosing A must be stupid. Who turns down free money?” the votes quickly changed.

Those who had picked A withdrew their votes and switched to B.

In less than ten minutes, out of the thirty people in the company, everyone except me and Ian chose B.

The tone in the chat began to turn sarcastic.

Maggie: “Mr. Shaw, since the budget’s already there, why not just give it to us directly? I just had my second baby, and the expenses are piling up. That ten thousand would really help.”

Daniel: “Yeah, Mr. Shaw. None of us really want a company trip. We just want to rest. Work is already exhausting. If we finally get a break, spending it with coworkers still feels stressful. Cash would make everyone happier.”

Eric: “Julian’s right. With ten thousand, I could travel several times on my own. When companies organize trips, there are always kickbacks. By the time the money is actually spent, that ten thousand probably turns into four thousand. It’s a bad deal.”

Julian sent a smug meme. “The people have spoken. Mr. Shaw, better listen to the will of the masses.”

I looked at the messages and felt nothing but absurdity.

That ten-thousand-dollar budget was coming entirely from my personal account. I had planned to pay for the trip out of my own pocket.

Now not only did they refuse to go, they wanted to pocket the money instead.

Why?

Because they had the nerve to ask?

I took a deep breath and typed into the group chat.

“Since no one wants to go, the company trip is canceled.”

The chat fell silent for a second.

Everyone was waiting for the words “cash payout.”

Slowly, I typed the next line.

“As for converting it into cash, company policy states that team-building funds are designated benefits and must be used for that purpose only. If no trip takes place, the funds return to the company and will not be distributed.”