After earning some money from stock investments, my colleague approached me for help.
“We should all make money together. I’ll transfer the money to you—just help me buy what you’re buying. We’re colleagues. I trust you with this,” he said.
“I know what I’m doing,” he added. “Even if I lose money, I won’t blame you.”
“And when I earn, I’ll treat you to a good meal.”
I felt pressured and couldn’t refuse, so I agreed.
Some time later, his mother was hospitalized. He came to me urgently, asking for 500,000 dollars.
“I don’t need any dividends—just treat it as your service fee. Please help me withdraw the money. My mother’s in critical condition and we need it immediately.”
I was caught off guard.
“Didn’t you already withdraw the money ages ago? Why are you asking me for it now?”
His expression darkened.
“I’ve been transferring my salary to you for years for stock trading. Even if there were losses, I should still have access to at least 500,000 dollars. That’s my money in your hands—not yours. So stop acting and give me the money.”
I insisted that all the funds had already been withdrawn by him.
Soon, his wife came to my house, and they both started attacking me on social media, manipulating public opinion to paint me as a fraud.
But when I showed them a detailed transaction history, the truth began to surface. Still, they pressed on.
——
“Give me the money already! Don’t you have any compassion? My mother’s in the hospital fighting for her life!” Calvin Granger’s eyes burned with resentment as he stared at me, accusing and bitter.
The office fell silent. Everyone pretended to work but was really eavesdropping.
“I trusted you—that’s why I let you handle my trades. Just tell me how much was lost.”
Then he tried to compromise.
“Look, I won’t hold you accountable for any losses. Just return the remaining amount. My mother needs the money.”
Seeing me unmoved in front of my computer, he stormed over, spun my chair around, and yanked me to my feet.
“Let’s settle this now.”
I was irritated—my tasks weren’t even halfway done, and here he was causing a scene.
“Didn’t you already withdraw everything? There’s only 500 dollars left in the account. I’ll transfer it to you now, alright?”
I took out my phone, opened the app, and showed him the balance.
Calvin’s eyes bulged in disbelief. His grip on my arm tightened painfully.
“For three years, I’ve been sending you my full 8,000-dollar salary every month. That’s over 200,000 dollars! You’re skilled in trading—you could have easily doubled or tripled that. And now you’re telling me there’s only 500 dollars left? Do you think I’m stupid?”
My colleague Lena Whitmore, who had been silently observing, finally spoke up.
“We all saw Calvin transfer money to you every month. You say he withdrew it himself—where’s your proof?”
The rest of the office, who had long been watching from the sidelines, chimed in with criticism.
“Vanessa, listen to me—just be honest. Do the right thing.”
“Mr. Foster, don’t defend her. This is someone’s emergency fund for a dying parent. How could she be so heartless?”
“These young girls nowadays… no wonder she’s always ordering milk tea and takeout—turns out it’s all on someone else’s dime.”
“I believe Calvin. It must be Vanessa Rowe who stole the money.”
The whispers turned into shouting. Some of the more aggressive coworkers even started shoving me.
I was only in my twenties—how could I match the shamelessness of these older bullies?
I clenched my jaw and held back tears.
“I never wanted to manage his money—he insisted on sending it. If you want proof, I’ll show you right now.”
I pulled out my phone and opened the withdrawal records to show them.
As I prepared to show the evidence, I caught a glimpse of panic flash across Calvin’s face.
