Chapter 3

I picked up the bill and read it carefully.

“Interesting,” I said with a slight laugh. “Lia, do you know what these numbers are?”

Her brow furrowed, clearly not expecting my question. “What do you mean?”

“These are the list prices,” I said, setting the bill down. “But I used my personal membership cards, which give me a 30-40% discount at each of these places.”

Lia’s expression flickered, but she quickly recovered. “So what? You still violated the rules.”

“So,” I continued, “For these expenses totaling 157,000, I actually only spent around 110,000. But now you’re asking me to reimburse the full price?”

The finance intern beside her muttered, “It’s true, if there was a membership discount…”

“Shut up!” Lia snapped, then turned back to me. “Caroline, don’t try to play games. The fact is you misused company funds. Any discounts are your personal business and have nothing to do with the company.”

I looked at her, a cold glint in my eye. “So you’re telling me that it’s my fault for using my personal membership to save the company money?”

“Exactly!” Lia said, defiant. “And since you admit you used your membership cards, that just proves they're company assets now. You used them for company business. Therefore, they belong to the company. You’ll have to surrender them as compensation.”

“Also,” Lia continued, her voice filled with vengeful glee, “from now on, all of your expense reports and off-site activities must be approved and signed by me, the new director. After all, the company needs someone to supervise your actions.”

The new director?

I almost laughed out loud.

Promoting an intern with a few months of experience to a director-level position… Claude was really pulling out all the stops to replace me.

“Fine.” I picked up a pen and signed my name at the bottom of the bill. “Done.”

Lia was clearly surprised by my compliance. She paused for a second, then snatched the document with a smirk. “Good. It seems you know what’s good for you.”

She scanned my office, her eyes lingering on the imported Italian wood desk and the abstract painting on the wall.

“Oh, one more thing,” Lia said with a triumphant smile. “You’ll need to clear out of this office.”

“What?”

“Claude just decided to assign this senior office to me. After all, as the new director, I need a workspace befitting my new station.” Her tone was dripping with pride. “As for you, you’re just a disciplined employee now. A regular cubicle will be more than enough.”

I couldn’t be bothered to fight her over something so petty. I’d let her enjoy her victory for a few more days.

I packed a few important personal items into my handbag and walked out.

Then, I called my personal lawyer.

“I need to consult with you about the illegal seizure of private property by a company, and the legal process for recovering compensation.”

“Evidence? I have it. Every transfer record, every invoice, and the recordings of every damn meeting. I’ve kept everything.”

My lawyer’s response was confident. “Any memberships and associated benefits under your personal name are your private property. No company has the right to forcibly confiscate them. If they try, we can file a lawsuit immediately.”

After hanging up, I took another document from my handbag.

It was the deed to this office building. The buyer’s name was mine.

Three years ago, to protect Claude’s pride and ease his startup’s financial burden, I had bought the building and leased it to his company anonymously for $30,000 a month.

The actual market rate for a building like this was $250,000 a month.

I remembered the day we signed the lease, Claude had said, “Caroline, we’re so lucky to have found such a great office in a prime location.”

I had just smiled and said, “We are lucky.”

Looking back, I was so naive.

I heard Lia’s excited voice behind me. She was on the phone with contractors, eagerly demanding they redecorate the office immediately.

Before long, a few movers came out, carrying my expensive ergonomic chair and other office supplies.

“Just toss it in the trash! No one wants it anyway!”

I watched as the items, once part of my carefully curated workspace, were carelessly dumped in a corner of the hallway.

It didn’t matter. I wouldn’t need them anymore.

Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed.

It was an update from Lia on Instagram.

I opened it to see a selfie of her in my old office.

In the photo, she was sitting in a brand-new leather chair, holding a glass of champagne, with the caption: “New office, new beginning! Grateful for the company’s trust. Finally moved into the director’s office! #Promotion #BossLady #HardWorkPaysOff”

Below the photo were a dozen likes and fawning comments from colleagues.

Expressionless, I liked the post.

I hoped she enjoyed that chair. I wondered how long she’d get to sit in it.