Chapter 2

Finally, they locked on a single number: 1000,000 dollars.

"Did you learn to count on your fingers, Mr. Grant?" I sneered. "Or is the company actually trying to short me on my bonus?"

The air crackled with tension.

Liam's face turned livid. He shot to his feet and stormed out of the room without a backward glance.

Michael and the other execs exchanged panicked looks, their composure shattering.

I casually pocketed my phone. "Next time you decide to change the rules," I added, my voice dripping with contempt, "try not to be so damn sneaky about it. You look like a bunch of amateurs."

I could see a few of my guys from the sales team in the audience, their shoulders shaking as they tried to stifle their laughter.

After the meeting, I headed to the break room for coffee.

The second I pushed the door open, I saw Ryan Stone hunched over my file cabinet like a goblin.

Ryan was the new guy, a classic nepo-baby.

Rumor was he was some distant relative of a board member.

Utterly useless, he spent his days wandering the office and kissing up to management.

I walked over and slammed my hand down on his phone, catching him just as he was snapping a picture of my client list.

"Well, well, Ryan," I said, raising an eyebrow. "Adding corporate espionage to your resume?"

His face went pale, and he forced that slimy smile. "Frank, man, it's a misunderstanding! Mr. Grant just asked me to organize the client files..."

"Organize?" I snorted, snatching his phone and deleting the photo.

"Sure. Why don't you give it a shot? Go ahead, call Mr. Harding from the East Coast division. He's got a temper. Hates cold calls.

"Last month, some newbie from marketing didn't know better, cold‑called him, and got blocked on the spot. Now the kid can't even get past his receptionist."

Ryan stiffed. His mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.

I clapped him lightly on the shoulder. "You wanna poach my clients," I said breezily, "you might want to make sure you're actually in my weight class first."

I turned and walked out, leaving him there to grind his teeth in impotent fury.

Three days later, I walked into the office right at nine. And they were waiting. The HR director, Robin Davis, with two security guards acting as her personal bookends, had my office entrance completely blocked.

"Frank," she said. "The company has decided to terminate your employment."

She shoved a termination notice at me. The reason was printed in bold letters right at the top: [Leaking Corporate Secrets.]

I almost laughed in her face.

I stared at her. "Leaking secrets? Where's your proof?"

"Ryan Stone provided a statement," she said flatly. "He claims you privately disclosed client information in violation of company policy."

I saw through it instantly.

This was a setup.

"Fine," I shot back coldly. "See you in arbitration."

Her eyes wavered for a split second, but she held her ground. "Please hand over your work immediately. We have someone ready to take over your client accounts."

I scoffed, "Take over? You think Ryan can handle my clients? Seriously?"

One of the guards stepped forward, reaching for my laptop.

I slammed my hand down on it and locked eyes with him. "You sure you want me to break your hand?"

He froze, the threat hanging in the air.

Robin's face soured. "Frank, don't make this difficult."

I stood up and deliberately began to pack my things.

My eyes fell on the "Employee of the Year" trophy on my desk.

I picked it up, held it for a beat, and then tossed it directly into the trash can.

"Fine," I said, grabbing my suit jacket. "I'm out."

As I walked out, I saw Ryan peeking around the corner of the doorway. I shot him an icy glare. "But you'd better hope," I sneered, "that my clients are actually willing to take your calls."

Then I walked out, my footsteps echoing in the corridor, whispers rising up behind me.

I knew, at that moment, that Deco Group was about to fall.

*****

The news of my firing hit the industry like a bomb.

By that afternoon, my phone was blowing up.

The first call came from Wesley Harding. He started cursing right away, "Are those idiots at Deco Group out of their minds? How dare they mess with you?"

I chuckled. "Easy, Wesley."

He roared, "Bullshit!

"I signed those deals because of you, Frank! You're gone, so I'm gone. What the hell do I need them for?"