His Favoritism Bankrupted Him
My husband, Keaton Smyth, CEO of Orion Corp, ran the company under strict rules.
I brought in a $10 million investment. But I clocked in one second late, so bye-bye VP promotion. I got accused of disrespecting company policy, demoted, and slapped with a pay cut.
Then there was Evie Larsen, his shiny new assistant.
She ditched work on the day of a huge contract signing and trashed Orion's only shot with a public company.
Keaton's response?
No punishment. No write-up.
He called it "personality," promoted her right there, gave her a raise, and tossed her a river-view apartment as company housing.
Evie still wanted more.
She pushed to take over Orion's core project, all so she could "prove herself."
I shut her down.
That same day, she marched into Keaton's office and accused me of power-tripping, insulting her, and refusing to train her.
I thought Keaton would see through it.
The next morning, my name was gone from the project team. My file access was revoked, too.
"Since you're too senior to mentor new hires, you're starting over. Entry-level sales rep. Same level as them."
Everyone waited for me to snap.
I just smiled and handed over the flash drive with the project data.
Keaton nodded, pleased.
"Don't let it happen again."
What he didn't know?
That data wasn't complete.
The second they uploaded it, the errors would tank the project—and trigger a breach-of-contract penalty big enough to bury them.