Chapter 4

Her pupils dilated, a flicker of panic in her eyes before she quickly regained her composure.

"Of course! If I'm not the CEO's daughter, then are you?"

She jingled a set of car keys.

"See this? It's a Porsche 911 key. My dad just gave it to me for my birthday!"

I initially thought it was a fake, but then I saw the "XY" engraving on the key and my eyes widened.

Wasn't this the 25th birthday gift Mom gave me last month? She said it was custom-made, one of a kind in the world.

I'd sent it to the dealership for repairs a few days ago. How did it end up in her hands?

I grabbed her arm, my gaze icy, ready to kill.

"Tell me, who gave you this key?!"

"If you don't tell me the truth, I'm calling the police right now!"

Chloe, stung by my piercing stare, grew even more flustered and couldn't meet my eyes.

Just then, a crowd of people came into the restroom. She pushed me, snatched the car keys back, and ran off.

Watching her retreating back, I immediately called Mr. Davies, our butler.

The phone connected, and several jarring music notes blared.

I instinctively frowned and moved the phone away from my ear.

When I put it back, the music had been replaced by Mr. Davies's hurried breathing.

"Miss Anya, I'm just helping the gardener tidy up the grounds. What can I do for you?"

Something felt off, but I couldn't quite place it.

"Is the car I sent for repairs ready? I need to use it."

He paused, stammering, "It's... it's fixed. When would you like to use it? I'll bring it over."

I told him a time and hung up.

But it still felt wrong.

My mom likes quiet; there would be no music at the villa.

And Mr. Davies was always so composed; this was the first time he'd ever stammered.

After thinking it over, I texted a friend at the dealership to ask about my car.

He sounded surprised:

"Your car was repaired three days ago! Your butler picked it up."

"Though, he did have a young girl with him at the time."

I clicked on the surveillance footage he sent me. Seeing the familiar Lolita outfit, I confirmed it was Chloe.

So, what exactly was the relationship between Mr. Davies and Chloe?

I instructed Assistant Miller, my mom's special assistant, to investigate, then absentmindedly returned to my desk.

Just as I sat down, a document was slammed onto my table.

I looked up, meeting Ms. Jenkins's disdainful gaze.

"Sign it quickly, and get out."

I opened the contract and laughed in disbelief at the clauses.

"I confirm that during my employment, I disclosed company core secrets and engaged in irregular project operations, and voluntarily waive all unpaid wages, year-end bonuses, and non-compete compensation."

"I agree that I will not join any competitor in the same industry within three years of my departure. If I violate this, I will pay the company 5 million dollars in liquidated damages."

"I voluntarily assume all economic losses caused to the company by my irregular conduct, totaling 800,000 dollars, to be settled in full on the day of my departure."

...

Even an idiot could tell Derek had HR deliberately screw me over.

Did he think I had no connections and would just swallow this bitter pill?

Why should I?

These sycophantic, spineless leeches really needed to be dealt with.

I opened the contract, taking photos of each page and sending them to my mom.

"Mom, your daughter is about to be fired. Look at these ridiculous, one-sided clauses from HR. Don't you think the company needs a serious overhaul?"

No sooner had I sent the message than my desk was violently slammed.

Derek glared at me impatiently.

"Anya, stop stalling. It's useless. Just sign the contract and get out!"

I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair, calm and composed.

"Are you sure you want me to sign? I'm afraid you'll regret it later, you know?"

Derek scoffed, his tone even more contemptuous.

"Regret?"

"If I ever regret this, I swear to God, I'll go on live and eat shit!"

I was intrigued. I pulled out my phone, started recording, and prompted him to say it again.

He took my actions as a challenge, shrugging indifferently and repeating himself.

Finally, he didn't forget to humiliate me.

"I'll just wait and see if you come begging me first, or if I'll regret it first!"

It would definitely be him regretting it first.

A message from my mom lit up my phone just then. She was taking me out tomorrow for a formal introduction and a "branch office reorganization."

In other words, Derek was going to be eating his words on live television tomorrow. And I meant that almost literally.

With that pleasant thought, I signed the termination papers with a flourish.

The moment the contract was in his hands, Derek's bravado returned. He beckoned over a few colleagues who'd never liked me.

"Watch her like a hawk while she packs. If she so much as touches a company pen, call security."

They nodded, forming a loose circle around me like vultures.

I didn't have much to take, just a few family photos.

As I reached for the last one, a hand shot out and snatched it from my grasp.

It was Mr. Peterson, the GM. He was staring at the photo, his face pale.

"How do you have photos with the Chairwoman? Who are you to her?"