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

Chapter 2

I got to the studio at seven thirty the next morning.

The motion-sensor lights in the hallway were broken.

I stomped my feet twice, but they still wouldn't turn on.

I had to use my phone flashlight to unlock the door.

The air inside reeked of stale leftover takeout.

Half a cup of coffee sat on Theo's desk, its straw bent flat.

I skipped flipping on the main lights and headed straight for Vance's office.

His computer was locked with a password, which was the date we landed our very first big client.

I typed it in, and the screen lit up.

A folder on the desktop held all the studio's bank records from the past three months.

I pulled up the files and read through every entry one by one.

Final payment for the coffee machine: 150,000 dollars.

Light box design fees for the coffee shop: 12,000 dollars.

Final payment for storefront construction: 30,000 dollars.

Grand opening promotional materials: 8,600 dollars.

Flower baskets: 3,200 dollars.

There were also two smaller transfers.

One was labeled "equipment installation labor".

The other read "soft opening food supplies".

Every single payment went to Sarah's coffee shop.

Added together, the total was well over 210,000 dollars.

I took screenshots of every record and sent them to my personal email.

Next, I opened the payroll history.

Payments had been scattered across these three months.

Theo was shorted 2,000 dollars.

Designer Quinton Amos missed 1,500 dollars.

Intern Oliver Wright never received his transit allowance.

My name line was completely blank.

It had stayed empty for three years straight.

I leaned back in the chair and stared at the screen for a long while.

Theo arrived at eight thirty.

He froze the second he saw me walking out of Vance's office. "You're here so early, Regina?"

"Yeah," I replied.

Theo scratched his head, slung his laptop bag over his arm, and walked toward his desk.

He took a few steps, then stopped again. "Regina, are we getting paid today? My landlord is on my case."

His voice was quiet.

I noticed the tired redness around his eyes.

Theo was twenty-six. He'd moved to Oriath City two years ago and lived in an old residential neighborhood.

As soon as he got paid each month, he sent 2,000 dollars home to his family.

His mom was hospitalized last month. He took half a day off work, and when he came back, he ate bread right at his desk.

"I'll talk to Vance," I said.

He nodded. "Thanks, Regina."

Vance showed up at nine thirty, holding a coffee cup.

The paper sleeve was printed with the logo from Sarah's shop.

"You went to her place again?" I asked.

He set the cup down. "It was on my way."

His commute from home to the studio never passed anywhere near there.

I chose not to call him out.

I just slid the payroll sheet across his desk. "We're paying everyone today."

He glanced down. "I told you to hold off on this."

I frowned. "We can't wait any longer."

"Regina, do you have to be so stubborn?" He sounded frustrated. "We all know cash flow is tight. Go explain to the team, and they'll understand."

"Did that tight cash flow cross your mind when you spent over 210,000 dollars yesterday?" I asked.

His face darkened instantly. "Did you go through my computer?"

I said, "I checked the studio's official accounts."

"That's my personal office computer."

"All those payments came out of VanRe Design Studio's funds."

We stared each other down across the desk.

Outside the office, the sound of typing suddenly cut off.

Vance lowered his voice. "Don't make a scene here."

"I'm not making a scene." I laid the printed bank statements in front of him. "150,000 dollars for the coffee machine, 12,000 for light boxes, 30,000 for construction work, 8,600 for supplies. Vance, you keep saying we can't afford to pay our staff."

His lips pressed together. "That money was a loan for Sarah. She'll pay it back."

"Where's the written loan agreement?" I asked.

He said nothing.

I asked again, "Where's the formal contract?"

He still stayed silent.

I pressed on. "Then tell me, when will she pay you back?"

Vance picked up his coffee, took a sip, and set the cup back down.

It tapped softly against the desk.

"Do you have to phrase this so harshly?" he asked.

I sighed. "I'm only asking about the money."

"Sarah is different," he said. "She just moved back here, and her parents don't live nearby. If the shop fails, she has nowhere else to turn."

"What about me?" I asked him. "I haven't gotten a single paycheck in three years. Don't I have nowhere to go either?"

He frowned. "You have me."

When those three words appeared, a lump rose in my throat.

It was not warmth I felt. It was disgust.

I had him, so I was supposed to cover the rent out of my own pocket.

I had him, so I was supposed to put off getting paid.

I had him, so I was supposed to stand aside and watch him spend money to prop up someone else.

I pulled out a stack of documents. "These are all the expenses I've covered over three years."

Rent, utility bills, staff salaries, project materials, delivery fees, taxi fares, printing costs, plus all the wages owed to me that I never collected.

I sorted everything into a clear list and placed it before him. "The total is 358,000 dollars.

"This doesn't include extra pay for client outreach, admin work, accounting, and project management I've handled all these years."

Vance stared at the list, and his expression gradually shifted. "When did you start keeping track of all this?"

"From the very first day," I said.

"You never trusted me?"

"I trusted you once." I pointed to a receipt for printing paper worth 36 dollars. "You rejected this last year. You said it was an unnecessary expense."

He glanced at it, clearly having no memory of the incident.

I didn't blame him for forgetting.

36 dollars meant next to nothing to him.

But 150,000 dollars was never a problem when it was for Sarah.

I said firmly, "Vance, settle all these accounts within three days. "If you don't, I'll hire a lawyer."

He looked up sharply. "Regina, are you really pushing things this far just for money?"

"This isn't about the money." I gathered the papers and put them back in my bag. "It's about making you understand—my work isn't free."

I walked out of his office.

The three coworkers out front all pretended to be busy with their tasks.

Theo clicked his mouse repeatedly, yet nothing changed on his screen.

I grabbed my bag and paused beside his desk. "Go talk to Vance directly about your paycheck."

Theo looked at me, then toward Vance's office. "Regina, you're not going to help anymore?"

"I've done this for three years," I said. "That's enough."