Chapter 1
During the weekly meeting, the new intern Emily Lane suddenly flashed my attendance record on the projector.
The boss and everyone else in the company instantly stared at me.
The intern, Emily Lane, lifted her chin proudly and slammed a stack of photos onto the conference table.
Emily said, "Mr. Grant, I'm reporting her for using the company car for personal errands every day, picking up and dropping off her daughter. She's abusing company property. I suggest you fire her immediately."
Charles's face instantly darkened, like thunderclouds rolling in.
I looked at Emily with pity. She was so desperate to climb the corporate ladder.
The "company car" she was talking about was my Rolls-Royce Cullinan, worth one million dollars.
I'd lent it to the company for free for two whole years, so they could impress clients and boost their image during business meetings.
The air was dead silent.
The AC was set to 79°F, but I felt a chill that cut right through me. It wasn't the temperature.It was the coldness in everyone's eyes.
The Rolls-Royce Cullinan, its black body gleaming in the photos, was parked right outside a bilingual kindergarten. The shot was sneaky and caught me bending down to pick up my daughter, and the last four digits of the license plate were clear as day.
Emily Lane leaned forward, hands braced on the conference table, her youthful face practically glowing with that fierce determination to clean up the office. She stared at me like I was a thief caught red-handed.
Emily said, "Mr. Grant, the company's vehicle policy strictly forbids using company cars for personal business.
"Yet Operations Director Susan treats our most expensive client vehicle like her family car, using it for school runs, grocery shopping, and weekend trips."
Emily's voice was crisp and loud, echoing through the conference room.
She clicked to the next slide, which showed an Excel spreadsheet.
Emily said, "Susan drives about 25 miles daily for commuting and school runs.
"Fuel and depreciation on the Rolls-Royce exceed one thousand dollars monthly, excluding the company driver's time spent on her errands."
She turned to Charles Grant, who was sitting at the head of the table.
Emily said, "Mr. Grant, we're cutting costs, so executives must lead.
"If we don't punish those who treat company property as personal assets, how can employees respect management?"
Everyone turned to look at Charles.
Charles Grant was my old college friend and the founder of this company.
When Charles couldn't pay staff during the company's early days, my savings covered payroll. Later, my old BMW couldn't impress major clients, so I immediately brought in my nearly new Rolls-Royce Cullinan.
"Use it, business is more important," I told him.
Two years went by like that.
I covered the gas, insurance, and maintenance out of my own pocket. And when the driver was swamped, I'd even drive to the airport to pick up clients myself.
Everyone in the company knew that car was mine.
But right now, Charles showed no sign of backing me up. His brow was furrowed, fingers drumming on the table. That was his tell, the way he always weighed his options.
"Susan Taylor," Charles said.
His voice was low and detached, all business and no warmth.
Charles asked, "Is what Emily reported true?"
I looked at him, my heart skipping a beat.
'True?' I echoed in my mind, stunned.
Two years ago, when he begged me to lend him the car to help the company's image, he said, "Susan, I know this is tough on you, but once the company makes money, I'll buy you a brand new one."
A year ago, when the company was desperate for cash, I used the car as collateral and took out a loan so he could pay the staff. Back then, he said, "Susan, this car is our company's lifeline and your badge of honor."
And now, he has the nerve to ask me if it's true.
I scanned the conference room.
John Miller, the sales manager, had just used the car last week to pick up his mother-in-law from the hospital and even bragged about it on his social media, calling it a "company perk." Now he was staring at his laptop, pretending not to notice.
Lily Evans from admin was always borrowing my car keys, saying it was for work, but everyone knew she was just taking her boyfriend out for joyrides. Now she was looking at me like I was some kind of crook.
Turns out, when it comes to self-interest, kindness doesn't even count for shit.
"What do you think, Mr. Grant?" I shot back, my voice so calm it even surprised me.
Charles looked away, refusing to meet my eyes.
Charles said, "The photos are right here. Susan, you've been with us a long time, and we were friends in college, but rules are rules. Business is business, personal is personal. That's the bottom line."
He paused, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say.
Charles said, "Here's what we'll do. Hand over the car keys. From now on, the admin department will manage the car. And as for the fuel and depreciation Emily calculated, finance will tally it up and deduct it from your next paycheck."
Emily smirked, looking like a little hen who'd just won a fight.
Emily said, "Mr. Grant, you're absolutely right. And I think Susan should apologize in front of everyone at the company-wide meeting. Her actions have really set a bad example for everyone."
Charles hesitated, glanced at me, and finally nodded.
Charles said, "No need for a public apology. Send out a notice to everyone criticizing her."
Blasted in a company-wide email.
Pay docked.
Car keys confiscated.
I looked at Charles's face. It's so familiar, yet suddenly felt like I was staring at a total stranger.
That was my car.
But I didn't fight back, didn't lose my temper or wave the registration in his face.
Because I saw the ambition burning in Emily's eyes, and the calculation in Charles's. One wanted to use me as a stepping stone, the other was seizing the moment to reclaim the "luxury car" and turn it into company property once and for all.
After all, two years is more than enough for people to start believing something is theirs.
They really started thinking it belonged to them.
"Fine," I said.
I stood up, took out the heavy car keys from my bag, and placed them gently on the conference table.
The keys landed with a crisp, metallic click.
I said, "Here are the keys. I'll accept the public reprimand as well."
I looked at Charles, a faint smile tugging at my lips.
"Mr. Grant, I hope this car brings the company even more good fortune," I said.
Charles clearly hadn't expected me to go along so easily. He froze for a second, then a flicker of satisfaction crossed his face.