Chapter 3

Meeting a client?

I arched an eyebrow and pulled up the building's digital access logs.

At 10:30 AM, he had filed a falsified off-site meeting request and vanished into thin air.

The "client" he claimed to see was an account our sales team had marked as completely dead months ago. Nobody bothered with it, yet he treated it like an urgent goldmine to slip out of the office.

That evening, our senior leadership team held a quarterly dinner at an upscale steakhouse nearby.

Halfway through the meal, one of the vice presidents casually leaned in. "Ms. Vance, isn't that... your little protégé over at the private dining booth across the room?"

My wine glass paused midway to my lips. My expression didn't waver. "Oh? Who is he with?"

"Looks like a bunch of frat buddies or college grads. They've been knocking back top-shelf bourbon and ordering prime cuts. When I passed by the restroom, I overheard him bragging that the five-thousand-dollar bill was going straight onto the company corporate card."

The surrounding executives exchanged quick, loaded glances.

Everyone knew Luke was my personal referral. They had walked on eggshells around him for months, but that didn't mean they were blind.

Embezzling company funds on personal luxury was an absolute red line.

I set down my glass, dabbed my lips with a linen napkin, and spoke calmly. "When the server brings our bill, have them merge that table's tab into it. Then tell finance to deduct every cent of his meal directly from Luke's paycheck. If his wages don't cover it, invoice him for the remainder."

The table went silent for a second before a round of low, amused chuckles broke out.

No one mentioned Luke again. Glasses clinked; the conversation flowed effortlessly.

Everyone at the table realized the same truth: his golden umbrella had just snapped in half.

The next morning, the second I stepped into my office, Chloe from HR followed me inside.

Her face was grim as she dropped a thick dossier onto my desk. "Ms. Vance, here are Luke’s attendance records, expense receipts, and email correspondences from the past two months."

She exhaled sharply. "We didn't dig before, but now that we have... the guy's been treating this firm like his personal ATM."

I flipped through the pages.

Falsified travel per diems, using company graphic assets to do paid freelance side-gigs for personal buddies, and even pocketing vendor kickbacks.

The sums weren't massive individually—a few hundred here, a thousand there—but they piled up. More importantly, it showed a rotten character.

"What's standard protocol?" I asked.

Chloe pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Gross misconduct. Immediate termination without severance, plus full financial restitution."

She paused, adding, "Also... he lied on his resume. While he did graduate from that university, he scrubbed multiple disciplinary suspensions and academic probation records from his file. That constitutes fraudulent application."

I closed the folder and tapped the cover. "Process the termination."

"Ms. Vance, are you sure?" Chloe hesitated. "After all, you've supported him for ten years. If we fire him like this... he might hate you."

Hate me?

A cold sneer tugged at my mouth.

I had fed him, clothed him, funded his degrees, and paved his career path for a decade. In exchange, I got an ingrate waiting for me to die so he could loot my estate.

I could stomach that kind of hate just fine.

"Send the official termination email," I ordered evenly. "Also, notify facilities to immediately repossess the company lease car he’s driving. As for his apartment lease, there are six months left, but it was signed under my supplementary corporate card. Cancel the auto-pay today."

"Understood."

Not long after Chloe stepped out, a sudden commotion erupted in the hallway.

A loud bang rattled the door as it was shoved open violently.

Luke stood in the doorway, clutching the termination letter in a white-knuckled grip. His face was flushed crimson, and the veins on his neck bulged.

In the past, he would have tapped politely, called me 'Peyton' with a bashful grin, and bowed his head.

Now, there wasn't a shred of respect left in his eyes—only raw humiliation, explosive rage, and unmasked malice.

"Peyton Vance!"

He spat my full name like a curse, slamming the sheet of paper hard onto my desk.

"What the hell is this supposed to mean?! You're firing me? Just because of one stupid draft that didn't meet your ridiculous standards?!"

I sat calmly in my swivel chair, not flinching, not even looking up as I continued turning the page of a quarterly report.

"Address me as Ms. Vance."

Those four words froze Luke mid-breath.

His eyes bugged out as if I had spoken in tongues. "What did you just say?"

I lifted my chin, my gaze cutting across him like an icy blade. "This is an office. I am your employer, not your family. If you can't grasp professional boundaries and hierarchy, security will gladly escort you out to learn them."