Stripped by the Floor Manager，Little Did She Know, My Dad Owns the Bank

I was sitting on the lobby couch, waiting for my dad—the bank's president—to finish work. In my hands, I was quietly playing with a collectible model sports car.

Out of nowhere, the floor manager stormed over. With one violent smack, she knocked the car model right out of my hands, pointing a manicured finger directly in my face.

"This is a bank, not a daycare! It’s because of trash like you that our thirty-million-dollar VIP client just walked out in disgust!"

I held my stinging hand, shaking my head in tears. "I’ve been quiet the whole time. I didn't do anything..."