She Forced Me Out, Then Begged at My Aunt's Billion-Dollar Empire

My resignation had just been approved.

The very next second, Gretchen Barnes posted a notice in the company group chat, tagging everyone.

"Marcus Abbott is leaving the company. Tomorrow night, dinner's on him for the whole office. Pick any restaurant you want."

I stared at my phone, momentarily stunned.

There were over a hundred people in this company. Nobody had given me a heads-up about this.

The group chat had already exploded. Hundreds of replies flooded the screen in seconds.

"That new sushi place just opened up. Two hundred bucks a head. We're never working with the guy again anyway, so why not milk it?"

"Surf and turf! Lobster! King crab! Let's eat through his project bonus. I heard he pulled in some serious cash last month!"

"The man's already got one foot out the door. We HAVE to bleed him dry on the way out!"

I watched the replies pop up one after another, my expression blank.

My fingers moved slowly across the keyboard. I typed in the address of the most exclusive restaurant in the city and hit send.

Then I picked up my phone and dialed the travel agency.

"I need a ticket on the earliest flight to the Maldives tomorrow morning. As soon as possible."

……

I hung up. By then, the group chat had already lost its mind over the location I'd shared.

"Holy shit! Marcus is really going all out!"

"Guy keeps his head down for three years, and now he wants to treat us to something nice on his way out? That's the least he can do."

"Exactly! The commissions from those big projects of his could cover ten dinners like this!"

"@Marcus Abbott What time tomorrow? I'm skipping lunch to save room!"

I stopped paying attention to the endless stream of messages. I placed my phone face-down on the desk and started clearing out my workstation.

Three years. I'd poured countless days and nights into this company.

I'd believed every word of the bright future Gretchen Barnes had painted for me.

"Marcus, you're the only one who can carry this project..."

"Marcus, just push through a little longer. It's for our future..."

"Marcus, you're the biggest reason for my success..."

But when I finally submitted my promotion application, all I got back was a breezy "You need more time to develop."

And the position I'd been desperate for was handed the very next day to Julian Sawyer, a man who couldn't even put together a basic financial report without it being riddled with errors.

That was when I realized my three years of grinding around the clock had been nothing more than paving the road for the man she actually loved.

And now they still wanted to play me for a fool.

Force me to pay out of my own pocket to wine and dine that backstabbing couple and every last vulture in this office?

Fine. I hoped every single one of them would remember exactly what this meal tasted like.

"Hey, Marcus."

A nauseating voice came from behind me. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

"Look at you." Julian Sawyer stood there with his arms crossed, looking me up and down, a phony grin plastered across his face. "I figured you'd be in Gretchen's office right about now, begging her to pull your resignation."

"Turns out you've been holding out on us. That revolving restaurant? Gretchen took me there once. Dinner ran us a few grand."

I ignored him and kept packing my things, one item at a time.

Being brushed off didn't seem to bother him. Instead, he reached over and pressed his hand down on the folder I was organizing. Not hard. Just enough to stop me.

"Marcus, don't be in such a rush. I came over here for a reason."

He flashed that same fake smile and pushed his laptop in front of me with his other hand.

On the screen was an open PowerPoint presentation. The data was an absolute mess.

"The quarterly department summary report. Gretchen needs it first thing tomorrow morning. Do me a favor and put it together, would you? Shouldn't take you more than a few minutes."

I glanced at the disaster on the screen.

"Julian, let me remind you of something. My resignation has been fully processed. What you're asking is no longer part of my job."