They Regretted Firing Me のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

I tapped play on the viral clip.The video opened with a tracking shot of my closed office door. The text overlay read: "Finally got the balls to stand up to the syndicate boss for basic holiday respect."Cut to a dramatic zoom-in on Beatrice's face at her desk, looking completely crushed. Text: "Was told I was a parasite and didn't understand how the underworld works."The footage spliced in audio snips of my voice from our encounter, but it was heavily distorted, pitched down, and chopped up to make me sound like a ruthless, bloodthirsty tyrant.The clip ended with her staring dead into the camera, her voice cracking right on cue."I don't need raw gold," she whimpered, squeezing out a few tears. "I just wanted a traditional Thanksgiving turkey, you know? Just a tiny bit of family spirit from the syndicate I sweat blood for. Is that… is that a crime?"The engagement section below was an absolute war zone.【Imagine running a whole criminal empire and being too broke to buy your worker

The next morning at 7:50 AM, the massive shipping bay was completely overrun. Not a single empty space remained. In all my years running this syndicate, we had never seen a turnout this absolute.The warehouse floor vibrated with a smug, celebratory buzz. Muffled snickers and cocky muttering echoed off the steel beams.Beatrice and Marco occupied the very front, behaving like undisputed victors among an inner circle of loyal followers. Marco was boasting loudly. "What did I tell you? Victoria is nothing but empty threats. You flash a little collective muscle, and the leadership folds every single time!"Beatrice wore a triumphant grin. She had already anchored her smartphone onto a compact stabilizer, broadcasting live to the world. The caption flashing across her stream was aggressively loud: Solidarity Beats Dictatorship! Watch a Mafia Don beg for mercy!At 8:00 AM sharp, I stepped into the bay.Every head snapped in my direction. I felt the heavy weight of their unified stare.A tox

But as the weeks dragged on, the screws only tightened across the shipping terminals. Dominic, eager to strip away any remaining traces of my personal administrative style, instituted a merciless regime of micro-penalties.Under my management, a few minutes of traffic or a torn uniform sleeve were met with understanding. Under Dominic, they were treated as financial opportunities for the executive ledger.He rolled out a mandatory digital tracking system that logged every movement with cold, algorithmic hostility.He instituted strict fines for clocking in a mere three minutes late. This was followed immediately by heavy deductions for taking an extra ten minutes on a staggered lunch break.The enforcement quickly bordered on the absurd. Dock hands were hit with hundred-dollar penalties for slightly wrinkled uniforms, unpolished boots, or failing to wear their corporate badges in a perfectly horizontal position.He even established a strict grooming code. He issued steep financial pena

Sitting in my private villa, my former personal secretary relayed the updates over an encrypted line. I simply sipped my drink and laughed. It was a masterclass in operational bleeding, executed perfectly by Dominic."They thought they were dealing with a soft corporate target, but they forgot you were the only shield standing between them and the meat grinder," my secretary chuckled on the other end. "They mistook your calculated protection for weakness because you actually balanced the ledgers to keep them safe from the family's worst impulses. Now they're learning what real exploitation looks like under Dominic's iron fist.""Are the drivers and foremen just taking it?" I asked, genuinely curious. "No talk of a strike or a warehouse slowdown?""Oh, Marco and a few of the senior handlers tried to flex," she said. "They actually blocked Dominic's town car in the secure parking garage last week, demanding he sign a guarantee for the year-end payouts. They swore they wouldn't let him le

The very next afternoon, the absolute hammer dropped on our front company’s remaining operations. Our largest, most critical international distribution partner—Arthur Sterling, the notoriously ruthless titan commanding the empire behind Sterling Global Maritime—made his move.He didn't send a standard email warning, nor did he issue a formal corporate notice. Instead, he staged a completely unannounced, highly tactical raid on our primary shipping terminal to catch the new administration entirely off guard.When his convoy of black luxury SUVs pulled past the security gates, Sterling completely bypassed the pristine, polished showroom where clients were usually coddled. He had zero interest in corporate illusions. Flanked by a grim-faced team of federal inspectors and regulatory auditors, he marched directly onto the loud, grease-stained loading docks.Without waiting for management’s permission, Sterling sharply ordered an immediate, random diagnostic sweep of the heavy freight trucks