$50 for My Villa? I Made Her Regret

Chapter 2

"Jenna, do you have any idea what the bigger picture is?" Heath's face was flushed beet red. He jabbed a finger at me as he shouted. "Sylvie's fiancé, Mr. Howe, comes from serious old money. Even one deal he tosses our way could keep this entire company fed for a year."

I bent down to pick up my application and kept my voice steady. "Manager Warren, what does my promotion application have to do with Sylvie's personal life?"

"Everything!" Heath slammed his hand against the desk. "You damaged team morale with that pathetic little ego trip. You slandered Sylvie in front of the entire company. Someone that narrow-minded has no business being in charge of a department. I'm ordering you to apologize to Sylvie right now. Otherwise, you can forget about becoming the director."

My grip tightened on the application. "I didn't slander anyone. That house really is mine."

"Still lying?" Heath snorted. He yanked open a drawer, pulled out a thick stack of documents, and threw them at me.

It was Stellar Group's annual strategic bid proposal, and it was the biggest account I had fought for all year. For three straight months, I had pulled all-nighters and run from one site visit to the next just to win that client.

"To compensate Sylvie for the emotional distress you've caused her, this project is being reassigned to her, effective immediately. Consider it the department's wedding gift to her. You'll assist her on it. Have the handover finished by this afternoon."

I looked up sharply, staring at him in disbelief. "That project is part of my performance record. On what authority are you handing it to an intern who hasn't even passed her probationary period?"

Heath planted both hands on the desk and let out a cold laugh. "In this department, I make the rules. Defy me, and I'll fire you on the spot for insubordination. You won't get a cent in severance. Now get out and finish the handover."

I bit down on my lip. That was three months of work, three months of sweat and sleepless nights.

By the time I returned to my workstation, Sylvie was already sitting in my chair as if it belonged to her, casually flipping through my client files.

When she saw me, she lifted her chin with a smug smile. "Jenna, thanks for all your hard work. But honestly, this proposal is pretty rough. I'll have to polish it myself."

I ignored her and went straight to Admin to have the documents stamped. Less than ten minutes later, I came back and found Sylvie hunched over my computer.

My screen was still unlocked. Baycrest Manor's online concierge portal was open on the monitor, clearly displaying a freshly generated set of six-digit temporary visitor access codes.

Sylvie had her phone raised and was snapping photos as fast as she could. When she heard my footsteps, she quickly pocketed her phone.

Then she picked up the tin of expensive coffee beans sitting on my desk. I had only bought them that morning. Right in front of me, she turned it over with a flick of her wrist, and the beans spilled straight into the trash can beside her.

"Oops. My hand slipped," Sylvie said with a pout, without a trace of apology in her voice. "Jenna, don't leave cheap junk on the desk. It's an eyesore. My fiancé is having top-grade Kona coffee flown in for me. Maybe I'll even let you smell the bag."

The coworkers around us burst into laughter.

I took a slow, deep breath, returned to my seat, and opened the system log that had been recording quietly in the background.

Then I checked the voice recorder I always kept with me.

I uploaded the recording of Heath abusing his authority and forcing me to hand over the client project, along with the system log showing an unauthorized screenshot of the visitor-code page, to an encrypted cloud drive.