To help the company prepare for its IPO, I worked overtime for a full month—sometimes until two or three in the morning, sometimes not going home at all—securing partnerships worth hundreds of millions.
On payday, my boyfriend’s childhood sweetheart walked over and handed me my payslip.
It showed negative 15,000 dollars.
I frowned. “Is this a mistake? How could I owe the company money when I just started?”
Lei smirked. “Lucinda, you’ve been practically living here—keeping the lights and air conditioning on, drinking the company’s mineral water. Someone has to cover the rent, utilities, and the nanny and security guard’s salaries. This is prime real estate. Honestly, 15,000 dollars a month is a bargain.”
I bit back my retort. The contract was more important. I signed it and walked away.
That afternoon, I returned to find a resignation letter sitting on my desk.
I confronted my boyfriend. Samuel Grant only frowned. “Well… isn’t that what you were doing? Taking advantage of the company?”
I turned on my heel and called a rival firm.
“I have a billion-dollar project that could take your company public. Interested?”
——
There was a chuckle on the other end. “Is this April Fools’?”
“I’m serious. If you don’t want it, I’ll give it to someone else.”
Silence. Then Francis Alden’s tone changed. “You’re not joking? What are your terms?”
“Are you still hiring? I just got fired.”
“What?” Francis sounded stunned. “Isn’t Samuel your boyfriend? Is he out of his mind?”
“I worked a month of overtime and they say I owe 15,000 dollars for using the air conditioner and drinking water. I couldn’t pay, so they fired me.”
Francis sighed. “Samuel just fired the company’s Rainmaker. Lucinda, you’re welcome anytime. Report straight to the VP’s office when you come in.”
“I’ll take two weeks off first,” I said.
After I hung up, I began packing my things.
—
A month later, Samuel stormed into my office, face dark. He eyed my cleared desk. “Leaving early? Can you stop throwing my name around as my girlfriend to ignore company rules?”
I laughed, pulling out my resignation letter. “Samuel, do you have Alzheimer’s? You already fired me. And don’t forget—triple severance, or I’ll see you in labor arbitration.”
He slammed the desk. “You know that’s not what I wanted! You disobeyed Lorelei and made her cry. Just apologize and pay the company back.”
I rolled my eyes, picked up my water cup, and splashed it on his face.
“Are you insane? You let Lorelei—who barely graduated elementary school—run the finance department, and now she gives me a payslip saying I owe the company 15,000 dollars after killing myself with overtime. Tell me, Samuel—does that sound remotely sane to you?”
