3 Years No Pay, He Spent $15K On Her

At the end of the month, I, Regina Fincher, was working on the payroll at the studio. The clock in the bottom right corner of my computer read 8:47 p.m. I was the only person left in the office. I refreshed the account balance one more time—$2,637.40. We were still short 32,000 dollars to cover all staff salaries. The rent was due the following Monday. The landlord had called twice that afternoon already. I sent the payroll sheet to Vance Hildreth. He replied right away. Vance: Hold off on paying everyone. Tell Theo Yost and the rest we'll make it up to them next month. I stared at his message for a few seconds. He'd said exactly the same thing the month before. Two months back, he told me client payments were stuck with their accounting team and asked me to calm everyone down. Even earlier, his excuse was that we'd just signed new clients and couldn't burn through our cash flow. I flipped my phone face down on the desk and kept sorting expense reports. These were the costs I'd covered this week—two packs of A3 paper, three delivery orders, and two client parking tickets. Then there were last month's expenses: overtime meals for the project team, taxi rides to work sites, and an unpaid bill at the print shop. There was also the 800 dollars Theo had borrowed for rent. He said his girlfriend had moved to Oriath City, his landlord was pushing hard for payment, and he had no spare cash at all. I'd transferred the money to him. When Vance found out, he only commented, "You're far too soft-hearted." I said nothing in response. I'd always believed everyone here was struggling just as much as I was. Back when the studio first launched, Vance showed me our official name: VanRe Design Studio. He said, "It combines my name and yours. Half of all the money we earn down the line will be yours." We ate hot dogs in that small rental apartment in those days. Our electric stove was broken, leaving our pasta half-cooked. But he smiled and promised the tough days wouldn't last. I trusted him completely. Three years later, hot dogs were replaced with takeout containers. And the hard times? They never seemed to end. I heard the jingle of keys outside the door. Vance pushed his way in, holding two cups of coffee. He set one cup down on my desk. "Still working late?" "I just finished the payroll," I said. He pulled out a chair and sat down, rubbing his temple. "Did Theo and the others ask about their pay again?" I nodded. "Yeah." Vance continued, "Tell them to hang on a few more days. I'll send out the checks the second the client's final payment comes in." I looked straight at him. "That payment won't arrive until next Friday at the earliest." He said, "Then we'll pay everyone next Friday." The words rolled off his tongue without a single hesitation. I slid the stack of expense reports toward him. "You need to settle these charges, too." He skimmed through the papers quickly. "Why is there so much again?" "These are all work-related expenses," I said. "Over a hundred dollars for two packs of paper?" "It's A3 size." He frowned. "Cut costs on things like this from now on. Clients care about our designs, not how expensive our paper is." I pulled the reports back. "Got it." He acted like nothing was wrong and took a sip of his coffee. "By the way, are you free Saturday afternoon?" I asked, "What's going on?" "Sarah's coffee shop is having its soft opening this Saturday," he said. "I ordered some flower baskets. Come along with me." Sarah Hannon was Vance's childhood sweetheart. They went to elementary school together and grew up in the same neighborhood before she moved south with her parents years ago. She'd just returned to Oriath City the previous month. She said she was tired of working for other people and wanted to run her own coffee shop. Vance always talked about her with natural, easy familiarity. "Moving back here alone hasn't been easy for her. She barely knows how to run a business. You know how shy she's always been. Her parents don't live in Oriath City anymore. We ought to help her out." I'd heard these lines so many times that I could recite them word for word. "Sure," I said. On Saturday afternoon, Vance and I walked over to the shop. It was on the next street, just a seven or eight-minute walk away. The space used to be a fruit store. Cardboard boxes always piled up out front, and the air smelled of rotten peaches every summer. Now it had sleek glass doors framed in cream white, with six flower baskets lined up at the entrance. The basket right in the middle read, VanRe Design Studio Wishes You a Grand Opening. Sarah stood behind the counter in a beige apron. Her face lit up the moment she spotted Vance. "Vance, you're here!" Her voice was soft and sweet. She turned to me a moment later. "Regina! Please take a seat. I'll make you some coffee." I handed her the flower basket I'd brought. "Congratulations on your opening." "Thank you, Regina." She took the basket, and I noticed fine coffee powder dusted on her palms. I glanced around the shop. New light boxes hung on the walls, and the menu board was hand-drawn. All the tables and chairs were brand new, with unopened cartons still sitting in the corner. The decor wasn't overly fancy, but it was clear a lot of money had been spent on every detail. My gaze finally settled on the right side of the counter. A cobalt-blue coffee machine stood there. It had a metallic body with two brewing heads, matched with a coffee grinder of the same color. I'd seen similar models on i********: before. They definitely did not come cheap. "This is a nice machine," I said. Sarah broke into a smile right away. "Vance picked it out for me. It's imported. He said you can't skimp on shop equipment—repairs will only cost more later on." Vance stood beside her, leaning down to adjust the grinder's setting. His movements were smooth and practiced, as if they'd done this together dozens of times. I stepped a little closer. An invoice lay on the counter, left out before it could be put into a drawer. I read the total amount printed on it: 150,000 dollars. The name listed as the buyer was VanRe Design Studio. I froze where I stood. Sarah kept asking whether I wanted a latte or black coffee. Vance looked up at me. "Get a hot latte, Regina. You know your stomach is sensitive." I refused to look at him. My eyes stayed fixed on that invoice. 150,000 dollars? Our studio's account only held 2600 dollars. We pinched pennies even for a single pack of expensive paper. We'd put off paying our staff for weeks. Yet he'd spent 150,000 dollars on a coffee machine for Sarah. "Regina?" Sarah called my name. I lifted my head and saw her holding a cup with latte art on top. A lopsided heart was drawn into the milk foam. I suddenly felt it was funny. "No, thanks." I pulled out my phone and took a photo of the invoice. Vance's expression darkened at once. "Why are you taking a picture of that?" "For our financial records." I put my phone away. "Any payment made under the studio's name has to be logged officially." Sarah's fingers tightened around her cup. A splash of foam spilled over the edge and dripped onto the counter. Vance frowned. "Regina, there are other customers here." I glanced around the shop. A few guests sat by the windows, focused on their phones. No one was paying any attention to us. He was just eaten up by guilt. That was why he thought everyone was listening in. I turned and walked toward the door. I heard Sarah's quiet voice behind me. "Vance, did I upset Regina? Maybe I shouldn't keep this machine after all." Vance lowered his voice. "It's fine. She's just been under a lot of stress lately." I pushed open the glass door. The wind chimed above the frame jingled softly. The owner of the print shop on the corner squatted outside smoking a cigarette. He saw me and said, "Regina! You still haven't paid last month's tab. It's the end of the month now." "I'll settle it tomorrow," I replied. The wind was blowing hard. I zipped my jacket all the way to the top and walked slowly back toward the studio along the sidewalk. My phone vibrated in my pocket. Vance: Don't misunderstand this. The studio is just covering the cost temporarily. Sarah will pay every cent back later. I stared at the words on the screen and didn't reply. I used to panic over leaving messages unanswered, afraid it would make things awkward between us. I'd finally seen the whole truth, right here today. Some matters were already messy enough.