Chapter 2

His gaze was dark, fixed intently on me.

"Quinn Hayes, my office, now."

He turned and left, not even bothering to close the door.

The office was dead silent. Colleagues exchanged glances, all with expressions of eager anticipation.

I tidied up my desk, grabbed my voice recorder, and followed him.

Once inside his office, Mr. Sterling slammed the door shut.

"Quinn Hayes, are you out of your mind?"

He lowered his voice, pointing at me viciously.

"The company's tax planning is so everyone can get a bigger year-end bonus!"

"You just have to make a scene and make everyone look bad, don't you?"

I looked at him calmly.

"Mr. Sterling, I understand tax planning, but it has to be based on legality."

"You publicly claimed you gave me eight million. This money, on the books, is a company expense, which you used for tax deductions."

"But what about me? This money counts as my personal income, and I'd owe millions in personal income tax!"

"Are you planning to pay this tax for me, or should I go to jail?"

Mr. Sterling paused, not expecting me to bring that up.

The old me would have been timid and submissive, just burying my head in the books, never daring to argue with him.

His eyes flickered, and his tone softened slightly.

"You don't need to worry about the personal tax; the finance department will cook the books."

"This whole thing will blow over in a few days; no one will remember it once the hype dies down."

"After that, I'll privately give you fifty thousand dollars as compensation for emotional distress. How about that?"

I shook my head.

"Mr. Sterling, I don't want the fifty thousand. I just want to clarify the facts."

"Your video has already been shared over ten thousand times. If I don't clarify, I'll have to report myself to the IRS tomorrow."

"Either you post a video clarifying it was a verbal mistake, or I'll call the police myself."

"You wouldn't dare!"

Mr. Sterling slammed his hand on the table, the jowls on his face trembling.

"Quinn Hayes, don't push your luck! If you dare call the police, I'll make sure you can't make a living in this city!"

"You can try."

I said coldly, turning to open the door.

Mr. Sterling lunged to grab me, but I was ready, sidestepping him and shouting loudly.

"Mr. Sterling! Control yourself! I'm here to process my resignation, not to help you commit fraud!"

The colleagues who had been secretly listening outside the door jumped back, scattering quickly.

Mr. Sterling's face was beet red, frozen in place, his outstretched hand suspended in mid-air.

In front of so many people, if he actually laid a hand on me, the situation would escalate dramatically.

He gritted his teeth, pointing at me, "Fine, you've got guts. Quinn Hayes, don't you dare regret this!"

I ignored him, went back to my desk, and started packing my personal belongings.

Brenda sidled over again, her eyes full of curiosity and schadenfreude.

"Quinn, did the negotiations fall apart? Mr. Sterling isn't giving you the money?"

"I knew it, there's no such thing as a free lunch. But you shouldn't be too greedy, just settle for what you can get."

I glanced at her, my hands not stopping.

"Common sense is a wonderful thing, Brenda. I'll say it one last time: there is no eight million. Not a single cent."

"Believe it or not."

My phone vibrated wildly.

Caller ID: Aunt Carol.

My heart sank.

In my past life, it was also around this time that my relatives' calls started pouring in.

They weren't calling to ask about my unemployment; they were calling to borrow money.

I took a deep breath and pressed the answer button.

Before I could speak, Aunt Carol's shrill voice came through.

"Oh, Quinn! You've really made it big! I saw the news, eight million dollars!"

"Our family has truly hit the jackpot!"

"Just so happens your cousin needs fifty thousand for a down payment on his wedding house. Transfer it over quickly!"