One Man's Trash Is Another Man's Treasure Novels & Stories

He made a point of stressing that I had to deliver the file into her hands intact. However, it was precisely because of my action that Ethan immediately noticed the document envelope in my arms. He raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity amid his hostile gaze. Immediately, I read his mind and eagerly shook my head. "Look at him, Ethan. After everything, he's still clinging to that stupid envelope. Who knows? Maybe there's a love letter to Ms. Judd in there. I heard all these newbies want to take the shady route nowadays. "I even saw online how some interns tried to seduce their bosses, swapping out their résumés for racy photos…"

"We have no real bond. If you want to talk about bonds, I admire the connection between you and Lisa—the perfect 'fostered' setup. I'll be rooting for you two!" I turned and walked to my car. I fired the company security guard on the spot. I also decreed that from now on, all trash bins in the company would be transparent—I refused to let outside garbage sneak in again. Alistair never made it in again, though he only sank lower. He posted public apologies online, knelt outside our company begging for forgiveness. Lisa tried desperately to drag him away, but he shoved her violently. She fell to the ground and bled immediately.

"Where did you ever accumulate so much crap?" My brow furrowed. " I resent that. Some of this crap is really expensive." David smiled. “OK, where did you accumulate so much expensive crap?” “Mostly from secret admirers. Did you bring up the crate of lead ingots?” “It’s right next to the scrap iron. Are you sure they were secret admirers or just neighbors who didn’t pay their trash service? Honestly have you ever heard of an organization called the “Goodwill?” They have trucks that will come right to your door and pick up shit like this.”

I rushed into the bedroom. Everything was still there, but a thin layer of dust covered the desk. I stumbled back to the living room. My eyes locked onto the dining table. Right in the middle sat a tarnished, blackened silver ring. The cheap fifty-dollar band I’d bought off the street. She used to treat it like a treasure. Now, she threw it away. My breathing grew heavy. I followed the sour smell to the kitchen trash can. Inside lay a crushed, cheap cardboard box. Inside the box was a sour, moldy strawberry cake.

After over two decades of living, I finally met someone who dared to act cocky before me. Amused, I tilted my head and asked calmly, "What did you want me to say? I didn't hear you the first time." "Great. You're deaf, too. Listen carefully, alright? 'I'm a useless bitch!' See? It's not that hard." I burst into laughter. "Okay. I heard you loud and clear now. Since you're a useless bitch, why don't you just step aside and be where you need to be? You're in my way."

He kissed the back of my hand and said tenderly, "Everything I've achieved is because of your blessing. You're my Fortune Consigliere. Everything I have should belong to you." It turned out that the saying, "Behind every successful man is a great woman", held true even in the mafia world. I threw myself into his arms and looked out at the brilliant starry sky, a happy smile spreading across my face.

It was clearly something he kept close and handled frequently. "This is the good luck charm you gave me. I've carried it with me for the past three years. I never forgot you, Cece," Jim said. I reached out, took the pendant from his hand, and weighed it in my palm. Then, I casually tossed it aside. The pendant arched through the air and fell into the pond with a splash. "I don't want dirty things or sullied people," I stated plainly. Jim's face instantly drained of all color. He swayed on his feet, barely able to stay upright.

A donation box was placed before me, and my hand was outstretched as I made to drop a bank card inside. One of the people watching me mocked, "My, my! Look at you, Thalia Stoneridge. Everyone else donated cash, but you're putting a bank card inside. Don't think Jonathan will get together with you just because you're donating more than the others!" "Exactly! Jon's not interested in your stupid money!" someone else said. I returned to my senses and looked at my bank card. Then, I retracted my hand and put the card back in my pocket. "Well, alright. Since you guys think my money is stupid, I won't donate anything. I don't want to dirty everything else inside the box."

Bang! Jacob Carlson suddenly pick up the tea cup on the table and smashed it violently on to the floor. His frustration turned into fury. "Trash! Who is trash! Useless pieces of trash! This woman couldn't even settle such a simple matter, she was just a trash!" He roared coldly. "I couldn't believe that this Jate Woods managed to smell a rat so easily. He's not easy to handle at all."

"Hey, if you're looking for a used sedan or something, Hazel, this isn't the spot. They don't even keep anything under six figures on this floor. You might want to try the scrap yards down the highway." Hazel’s hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. The familiar, toxic sting of their old college bullying flared up in her chest, threatening to pull her back to a time when she had no choice but to take their insults. But just as she was about to swallow her pride and force out a professional, detached response to keep the peace, Maxwell stepped up right beside her.