They Cut My Help, I Showed Them Proof

Chapter 4

I spent the whole night going through the previous year's delivery receipts. Nothing out of the ordinary stood out at first. But one tiny detail caught my eye.

The restocking frequency and prices of cooking oil, grains, and seasonings didn't line up with what I remembered.

A 1.3-gallon container of olive oil used to cost a little over $200, right? But the purchase price on the receipt was now $380.

I asked the housekeeper about it and discovered that the Whitcombe family had switched to a new supplier for all its grain, oil, and seasonings the year before.

"Who approved that switch?" I asked.

"I think it was Ma'am Corinne's decision," the housekeeper said offhandedly.

'Corinne?' I made a mental note of that.

Over the next few days, I started keeping a close eye on where every item in the kitchen came from.

I had never cared about those details before because my only job was cooking. Whatever Orson bought, I used. I never even asked how much anything cost. But now I had to pay attention.

Sabine had given me that cost-reporting assignment, forcing me to track every cent we spent. As I logged one entry after another, something strange appeared. Rice, flour, olive oil, vinegar, stock, and sherry.

None of those staples were sold through the approved grocery delivery service Sabine had told me to use. They all came from a different supplier: Hearthland Foods.

I asked the housekeeper who had arranged the contract with Hearthland.

He glanced around first, then leaned closer and lowered his voice to a murmur. "It's run by Ma'am Corinne's younger brother."

That was Conrad Wycliffe, Corinne's biological brother.

I pulled up all the price lists Hearthland had sent the Whitcombe family, then slipped out to the supermarket and wholesale market to compare prices.

Rice cost $5 a pound at the supermarket, but Hearthland charged $8.50.

Flour cost $2 a pound at the wholesale market, but Hearthland wanted $3.80.

Olive oil cost $230 a bottle on the brand's official website, but Hearthland charged $380.

Every item was marked up by at least sixty percent, without exception. Some items even cost twice the market rate.

I quickly ran the numbers. On cooking oil and grains alone, the Whitcombe family was wasting more than $3,000 every month. That added up to roughly $40,000 a year in unnecessary spending.

I stood frozen in the kitchen for ages, clutching the crumpled receipts in my hand.

Corinne was already siphoning $20,000 a month from the family's household budget as her personal allowance. On top of that, her brother was taking another $40,000 a year, more than $3,000 extra every month, through this rigged supplier arrangement.

And there was Sabine, working herself to the bone to eliminate my assistants' positions and dock my performance bonus. The money she saved didn't even cover the extra amount Conrad charged for grain and oil in a single month.

The truth hit me all at once, like a bucket of ice water to the face. Sabine wasn't running the household at all. She was being played like a pawn and used as a scapegoat for someone else's schemes.

Corinne, on the other hand, was the real mastermind. The soft-spoken, seemingly sweet Mrs. Corinne Whitcombe who never ruffled any feathers was the one pulling all the strings.

She'd encouraged the new daughter-in-law to introduce these drastic "reforms." Cut funding for elder care, lay off the kitchen staff, and force out longtime employees like me who'd been there for years.

When the whole family eventually got fed up and started complaining, Sabine would take all the blame. Corinne, meanwhile, would come out smelling like a rose, collecting all the profits without lifting a finger.

The more I thought about it, the more a cold chill crept down my spine and made my hair stand on end.

Just then, the kitchen lights flickered on with a click. "Ms. Sayer? Why are you still here? What are you doing?"

I spun around sharply, my heart jolting.