Chapter 3

“What was the average monthly salary for a sales representative during my first year here?”

“It was $4,500. After taxes and benefit deductions, they took home around $3,800.”

When I first joined the company that year, Bill offered me $6,000.

“In my third year, Mr. Koenig officially created the marketing department and made me a team leader. How much did an ordinary sales representative earn that year?”

A trace of discomfort crossed Irene’s face.

“Business was booming that year, so Mr. Koenig gave everyone a special raise. They made $6,000 a month, plus a full benefits package.”

I nodded.

That was the year I had secured the company’s first seven-figure account.

The company’s revenue doubled, so Bill gave everyone a raise.

Everyone received it except me.

“One last question. There are eighteen people in the marketing department. How many of them make less than I do?”

Irene’s face went pale. She lowered her head and stared at her keyboard in silence.

My heart sank.

“Let me ask that differently. Aside from me, what is the lowest salary in the marketing department?”

Irene remained silent for several seconds.

Then, she clicked her mouse and highlighted a figure: $8,500.

A note appeared beneath it.

[Scheduled raise next month: $10,000.]

I had worked at the company for six years and landed its first seven-figure account.

Every client in my portfolio generated at least seven figures in profit.

Yet, I was the lowest-paid person in the entire department.

Six years.

I had asked for a raise seven times, but Bill had never once mentioned that the company was thriving.

All he ever said was, “Kristen, you’ve been with me from the beginning. No one in this company matters more to me than you do. Just give the company a little more time. I promise your loyalty will be rewarded.”

I gave them six years.

In return, seventeen of the eighteen people in the marketing department earned more than I did.

I gave the screen one final glance before I walked away.

Behind me, Irene hurriedly called Bill.

“Mr. Koenig, we have a problem. Kristen’s discovered everything about the salaries…”

That night, I could not sleep.

The next morning, I did not go into the office. Instead, I sent a message to the WhatsApp group I shared with my clients.

[If I left this company and joined another firm, would you be willing to move your accounts with me?]

Someone responded almost instantly.

[Of course we would! We’ve worked together for years. We trust you far more than we trust your company.]

[This might sound harsh, but every salesperson at your company except you is completely useless.]

[Couldn’t agree more.]

[Seconded.]

Within ten minutes, every client had agreed to take their business with me if I left.

Only then did I finally breathe a sigh of relief.

I thanked them in the group chat and sent my prepared resume to a headhunter.

Just then, Irene called me.

“Kristen, Mr. Koenig knows what happened last night. He’s been looking for you. You need to get to the office right now.”

I hung up without a word.

Ten seconds later, she called again.

“Kristen, whatever this is, we can talk it through. Don’t do anything reckless. Mr. Koenig’s going to be furious.”

I still said nothing and turned off my phone.

At 2p.m., I walked into the office.

The entire marketing floor was silent.

The usual office gossipers suddenly found their desks fascinating the second they saw me.

Jason was the worst. Normally, he never missed a chance to follow me around and suck up to me.

This time, he looked ready to crawl under his desk and hide.

Bill stood in the doorway to his office.

“Kristen, come in for a minute.”

I walked in and took a seat.

He lit a cigar, and his expression was hidden behind a thick cloud of smoke.

“Kristen, how have I treated you all these years?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

I meant it.

Previously, I had always believed that although he underpaid me, he genuinely cared about me.

I believed he valued me, encouraged me, and had given me the opportunity that launched my career.

Then, Jason unintentionally revealed the truth about everyone’s salaries the night before.

Only then did I realize that I had devoted six years of loyalty and hard work to someone who never deserved either.