Chapter 2

"Susan, I'm glad you understand. I'm just doing what's best for the company," he said.

Emily snatched up the car keys, squeezing them tight like she'd scored her golden ticket to the executive floor.

"Susan, see? Wouldn't it have been easier if you'd just handed them over in the first place? Did it really take someone ratting you out for you to finally cough them up?" Emily sneered.

I looked at her, my eyes full of pity.

She had no idea what those keys really meant.

She thought she'd grabbed power.

But what she'd actually snatched was a ticking time bomb.

A bomb that could blow this company to smithereens.

Half an hour later, an email landed in every employee's inbox.

The subject line was bold and glaring: [Notice: Susan's Vehicle Misuse].

The email listed my "offenses" in detail: long-term use of the company's top-tier Rolls-Royce Cullinan for personal purposes, like picking up my daughter and shopping, which seriously violated company asset management regulations and caused a negative impact.

I sat in my office, listening to the whispers drifting in from the cubicles outside.

"I never would've thought Susan, who always acts so high and mighty, is actually such a cheapskate behind the scenes."

"Seriously, that's a Rolls-Royce Cullinan, worth around a million dollars. She drives it every day to pick up her kids. Isn't she worried she's tempting fate?"

"Hey, do you think she's been treating the company like her own home? Even Mr. Grant wouldn't dare do that."

"She totally deserved to get disciplined. Emily really did a great job this time."

I picked up my coffee and took a sip. The bitterness lingered on my tongue, but it did nothing to ease the cold knot twisting in my stomach.

The door swung open without a knock.

Emily walked in, holding a form.

"Susan, accounting crunched the numbers. Over the past two years, based on your mileage, you need to reimburse 43,000 dollars for gas, depreciation, and tolls," Emily said.

She slapped the form down on my desk, giving me that smug look from above.

Emily said, "Mr. Grant already approved it. You have three days to pay up. Otherwise, we'll take it out of your bonus and dividends."

I picked up the form and gave it a quick look.

They went over every little detail.

Even the miles I drove to the dealership for maintenance on weekends were counted as "personal use."

"43,000 dollars," I said with a smile. "Emily, your math skills are pretty impressive."

"Naturally." Emily raised her chin, looking smug. "Susan, I know you're not exactly happy about this, but these are the company rules. You got perks you weren't supposed to have, so now you gotta pay for it."

"Perks?" I echoed.

I set the form down and leaned back in my chair, looking at her.

"Do you even know how much the insurance costs for that car every year?" I asked.

Emily paused for a second. "The company pays for it, right?"

"No, I pay for it. 17,000 dollars a year.

"And what about maintenance?

"I pay for that, too. Each time costs over 3,000 dollars."

"That's your responsibility. You've been using it for so long." Emily retorted, trying to justify herself.

"Do you even know who brought that car to the company two years ago?" I asked.

"Who knows? It's the company's now." Emily waved impatiently. "Susan, stop arguing and pay.

"I took the keys. From now on, submit a request and obtain my approval before using the car."

Her approval? Seriously?

An intern who'd barely been here three months gets to approve the Operations Director's vehicle request?

Just imagining that is unreal.

"Fine," Susan said.

I picked up a pen and signed the confirmation form.

"I'll pay up," Susan added.

Emily snatched the form away, a smug smirk spreading across her face.

"Susan, wise people adapt. Mr. Grant says an important client specifically requested this car next Monday.

"Remove your personal belongings, including the child seat and toys, so they don't embarrass the company," Emily said.

"Okay," I replied.

I didn't even hesitate.

Emily turned and walked out, her heels clicking on the floor, sounding like she was marking her territory.

I watched her leave, then reached for my phone.

I opened my bank app and checked my balance.

Then I dialed a number.

"Hello, David? It's Susan," I said.

"Yeah, I need some legal advice. The company has wrongfully seized my personal property, and I want to get reimbursed for all the expenses I covered myself.

"Evidence? I've got it. Every bank transfer record, every invoice, I've kept them all."

After hanging up, I opened my drawer and pulled out a folder from the very bottom.

Inside were all the original documents for the Rolls-Royce Cullinan.

The purchase contract, the invoice, the tax receipt, and the vehicle registration.

And on the registration, the name stood out in unmistakable letters: Susan Taylor.

Two years ago, I "loaned" the car to the company to help Charles Grant look good. He said he'd sign a lease and pay me 6,700 dollars a month.

I told him, "Come on, we're friends. The company's just starting out. Let's save some money."

So, we didn't bother with any paperwork.

I thought it was all about trust and friendship.

But now, I realize I basically handed them the perfect weapon to use against me.

If they want to make this official and start counting every penny, fine by me.

Let's see who really comes out ahead when we do the math.

I stood up, walked out of my office, and headed down to the underground parking lot.

The Rolls-Royce Cullinan was parked in the boss's spot. Emily was there, directing a few admin staff, having them fuss over the car like it was some kind of trophy.

"Toss this seat cushion. It's so lame," Emily barked.

"And that weird trinket. What even is that? Chuck it.

"Grab that box out of the trunk, too. God knows what kind of crap she's stashed in there."

That was my bespoke leather seat cushion, worth 2,700 dollars.

That little amulet was a lucky charm my daughter made for me.

The box in the trunk was packed with luxury gifts for clients, all paid for with my own money.

I stood behind a pillar, watching them act like a bunch of thieves, tossing my stuff to the ground and stomping all over it.

Emily even hopped into the driver's seat, grabbed the steering wheel, and snapped a selfie for her social media.

She captioned it: [New ride. Hard work pays off. Keep grinding.]

I saw her post and liked it.

Good luck, Emily. You're gonna need it.

Hope you can keep it under control.

After all, this car's a bit temperamental. It only obeys its true owner.