Other senior executives saw this and agreed.
"Exactly, how can you measure a gift from Mr. Gates with money?" The finance director pushed up his glasses. "Miss Lafferty, just admit defeat."
"The company isn't a charity. It's only right to compensate for damaged goods," sneered the marketing director. "Though, with Miss Lafferty's salary, she'll probably be paying it off till retirement."
The room erupted in laughter, their eyes shining with mockery and barely hidden delight at others' misfortune.
To them, I'd always been a joke—the slacker who didn't belong. And now that I was down, they were all too eager to step on me.
Brandon stood silently on the side. His brows were slightly furrowed, but he said nothing to stop them.
I wasn't mad even though everyone was making fun of me. Then I looked up at June. "One million, no more additions, right?"
June was taken aback for a moment, then let out a scoff.
"Summer, who are you trying to fool at a time like this?"
"How much is your monthly salary?"
"One million, are you going to pay with your life?"
I ignored her and picked up my phone.
"Bring me one million dollars in cash to the Gates Corp's meeting room as soon as you can."
June looked disdainful. "Hmph, who are you trying to impress? Do you think a random phone call can scare people?"
I didn't answer, just waited quietly.
Less than ten minutes later, the meeting room door opened and a sharply dressed middle-aged man walked in.
Behind him were three bank employees in uniform, each carrying a box.
He walked straight up to me and nodded respectfully. "Miss Lafferty, here's the one million you requested."
I nodded.
"Thank you, just put them here."
As the three boxes were opened one by one, stacks of neatly arranged hundred-dollar bills gleamed under the lights.
The room fell into stunned silence. All eyes locked onto the cash.
The air seemed to be sucked out and even their breathing became faint.
June's face was pale, but she couldn't utter a single word.
She stared intensely at the money, then looked up at the man in the suit.
Suddenly, the finance director's face turned white with fright.
"Mr. … Mr. Jackson?"
Yes, that middle-aged man was Julian Jackson, the director of Hartridge's main branch.
A prominent figure whom even Harold Gates found difficult to meet was now standing respectfully before me, addressing me as "Miss Lafferty."
Brandon hesitated for a few seconds, then quickly stepped forward, extending his hand to greet him.
"Mr. Jackson, why did you come personally?"
"My grandpa often talks about you, saying he'd very much like to see you again."
Julian didn't even spare him a glance, only giving a slight nod in acknowledgment.
Instead, he said to me, "Miss Lafferty, if you need anything else, just let me know."
With that, he turned and left the meeting room with his people.
Quick and decisive, as if staying an extra second would be a waste of time.
Brandon's hand froze mid-air, his expression flickering from red to stark white.
Meanwhile, June's arrogance had vanished entirely.
Her legs trembled beneath her, barely holding her up, as a sheen of cold sweat formed across her forehead.
I casually pulled out a stack of bills from the suitcase and lightly tapped her cheek with it.
"Miss Stone, one million. Not a cent less."
"And now, this watch is mine."
With that, I yanked the Patek Philippe off her wrist and tossed it into the trash right before her.
"You!"
June's eyes were wide with fury.
I turned to Brandon and smiled calmly.
"Mr. Gates, I've compensated for the watch."
"Now, let's talk about the compensation for my phone."
June froze for a second before a mocking smirk twisted her lips as if she'd just heard the most ridiculous joke.
June crossed her arms, her tone full of mockery. "How much can a Hypnix phone even be worth?"
I raised a finger.
"You're right, it's not worth much. Only about 13 million."
The room erupted in gasps, then burst into laughter.
The marketing director even slammed the table dramatically.
"Thirteen million? Miss Lafferty, did your brain get scalded by your latte?"
The finance director adjusted his glasses and added with mock seriousness, "According to company policy, any damages must be compensated at full market value."
"Miss Lafferty, I doubt this phone of yours is even worth a fraction of its market price, is it?"
Encouraged by the crowd's agreement, June grew even smugger.
She stepped closer to me and smirked. "How about this? Out of the kindness of my heart, I'll help you contact a mental hospital."
"After all, delusions are an illness. They need treatment."
Brandon was frowning and standing off to the side, but he did not utter a single word.
Despite the sarcasm directed at me, I maintained an air of composure.
"You're right, an ordinary phone isn't worth much."
June scoffed, "Good to know. Now you can stop making a fool of yourself here!"
"Unfortunately, this isn't an ordinary Hypnix."
No sooner had I spoken than the meeting room door was pushed open again.
This time, a middle-aged man in a gray jacket stepped in, followed by eight sharply dressed bodyguards.
Elliot Yale—senior vice president of Hypnix Group. A man who rarely appeared outside of major press conferences was now standing in this very room.
Brandon's expression changed instantly. He quickly stepped forward.
"Mr. Yale? What brings you here?"
