Chapter 3
The next morning, the HR manager called me in for a talk.
"Susan, given the serious impact of your recent misconduct, the company has decided to suspend some of your authority," she said.
The HR manager, who was in her forties and usually pretty friendly with me, now avoided my eyes, looking a bit awkward.
"Mr. Grant wants you to step back from your usual duties this week and focus on reflecting and handing over your work," she added.
"Who am I handing over to?" I asked.
"Emily Lane."
I raised an eyebrow. "An intern?"
"Mr. Grant said that even though Emily is young, she's got strong principles and isn't afraid to call out problems. The company is fast-tracking her promotion to Operations Supervisor, and she'll be taking over some of your responsibilities," she explained.
Getting promoted ahead of schedule.
Ah, I see now.
Using my misfortune as her stepping stone to snag that supervisor role. That's a sweet deal for Emily.
"Alright," I said.
I didn't object.
When I got back to the office, Emily was already parked in the temporary chair next to my desk.
She'd switched into a sharp business suit, her hair slicked back and not a strand out of place. She definitely had that supervisor vibe going on.
"Susan," Emily said, her tone anything but respectful. "Mr. Grant wants me to review the client files with you. Especially Mr. Stone's. He'll be here next Monday, so I need to get familiar with everything ahead of time."
Mr. Stone.
Richard Stone.
He was the company's biggest client, and two years ago, I fought tooth and nail to win him over from our rivals. My Rolls-Royce Cullinan was the game-changer.
Mr. Stone loved making a splash, and he trusted his gut when it came to people.
Back then, when he slid into my car and ran his hand over the leather seats, he said, "Ms. Taylor, your ride matches your style: classy. I know I can trust you."
Now, Emily was aiming to take over this client.
"All the files are on the shared drive. See for yourself," I said, keeping my tone cool.
"Some details aren't in the files, right?" Emily leaned in. "Like, what kind of coffee does Mr. Stone like? Any food restrictions? What are his hobbies?"
I looked at her, her face practically screaming hungry ambition.
"Mr. Stone likes dark roast coffee, doesn't eat seafood, and loves playing golf," I said.
I only told her half the truth.
Mr. Stone really does like dark roast coffee and avoids seafood.
But what he really can't stand is know-it-all youngsters desperate to show off and pretend they know more than they do.
"Got it. Thanks, Susan," Emily said, taking notes. "I gave the keys to company driver Mike King. Mr. Grant says the car is reserved for clients at Mr. Stone's level and otherwise remains parked."
"That's fine," I said.
I nodded.
Later that afternoon, I headed over to the dealership.
"Miss Taylor, welcome." The sales manager came over with a big smile. "No issues with the car lately, I hope?"
"No problems," I replied, handing over a spare key. "I'd like a full inspection, and could you also upgrade the tracking system for me?"
"Sure thing. Did you bring the car with you?" he asked.
"Nope," I said with a smile. "Someone will drop it off in a few days."
"Huh?" The manager looked a bit confused.
"Remember, as soon as the car gets here, lock it up tight. Nobody drives it unless I give the word," I told him.
The manager saw how serious I was. He had no idea what was going on, but he nodded, all business.
"Got it. The car's under your name, so we'll only do what you say," he replied.
As I stepped out of the dealership, the sky was heavy and gray, like rain was about to pour down.
I grabbed a cab and headed back to the office.
As we passed by the office building, I spotted the Rolls-Royce Cullinan slowly rolling out of the parking lot.
Mike King was behind the wheel, and Emily was in the passenger seat, looking all business.
In the back, Charles Grant was leaning back with his eyes closed, taking a breather.
They were off to meet a new client.
The window rolled down, and Emily spotted me standing by the curb, waiting for the light to change.
She had Mike stop the car right in front of me, making sure I got a front-row seat to their little show.
"Well, well, Susan, catching a cab?" Emily called out, her voice laced with mockery.
She leaned out the window, wearing that fake, triumphant grin.
"Sorry, Susan, but Mr. Grant needs the car for business, so we had to borrow it. It's blazing out here.. Don't wear yourself out. Why not head home early and spend some time with your kid?" Emily added.
Charles opened his eyes and gave me a look. His gaze was complicated, hard to read.
"Susan, take a cab and put it on the company's tab," he said.
With that, he rolled up the window.
The black Rolls-Royce Cullinan sped off, kicking up a puddle from the curb and nearly splashing my skirt.
I stood there, watching the taillights fade into the traffic.
I thought, 'Reimburse me? Seriously?'
'Charles, you must have forgotten.
'The gas card for that car is still tied to my phone.'
Just now, my phone buzzed.
A text flashed on my screen: [Your gas card was charged 283 dollars at 15:30.]
I thought, 'Using my car and my gas for your business deals, yet you still have the audacity to mock me for catching a cab?'
These bloodsuckers, honestly. The way they act, you'd think everything belongs to them. Unbelievable.
I took a deep breath and called the bank's customer service.
"Hello, I need to report a gas card lost and have it blocked," I said.
"Yes, freeze it right now."
After hanging up, I opened up the car's remote control app.
The screen showed the car cruising east at about 37 miles an hour.
My finger hovered over the "Remote Lock" button, pausing for a moment.
I thought, 'Locking it now would be too easy for them.'
'If I was going to lock it, it would be at a moment they would never forget.'
I closed the app and flagged down a cab.
"Driver, take me to the top commercial real estate agency in town," I said.
"You got it," the driver replied.
If we're going to settle scores, then let's throw the office into the mix.