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

"Stay. Be Julian's deputy and do what you do best. Nothing has to change between us. I still value you. I still trust you."

"With your talent, you'll keep the projects running smoothly. The team stays stable, the company stays happy. Everyone wins."

She gripped my wrist, her thumb tracing slow circles over the back of my hand, wearing the expression of someone who genuinely had my best interests at heart.

I looked at her face and felt nothing but nausea. I yanked my hand free.

"Ms. Barnes, my resignation was a carefully considered decision. I'm not joking around."

Gretchen's smile froze. Disbelief crept into her voice.

"So you'd rather shell out a hundred, two hundred grand of your own money tomorrow night to treat the entire company to dinner than accept my offer?"

She let out a scornful laugh.

"Marcus, who taught you math? Why insist on being the fool who picks up the tab?"

My tone didn't waver.

"Ms. Barnes, I've done the math. Some investments are a total loss. The smart move is to cut them before they bleed you dry."

"Cut your losses?"

A muscle in Gretchen's face twitched. She reached up, slow and deliberate, and straightened her collar.

"Fine. Wonderful."

"Since you're so flush with cash, why not do one more good deed?"

She leaned forward, her voice dripping with mockery.

"This quarter, hand your project numbers over to Julian. You're leaving anyway. You won't see a dime of that commission, so you might as well do him a favor on your way out."

I stopped what I was doing and looked at that familiar face.

The last shred of hope I'd been holding onto crumbled to dust.

"The Tiancheng account took me eight months to close."

"The contract just cleared processing last week. The first payment hit the account yesterday. By company policy, that commission belongs to me."

The smile on Gretchen's face dimmed.

"Policies are written on paper. People are flexible."

"Julian's taking over all your clients. If his numbers look pathetic right out of the gate, how's he supposed to command any respect? You're leaving anyway. Go out on a high note. Keep things friendly for when you run into people down the road."

"Ms. Barnes."

I lifted my head and cut her off, meeting her eyes squarely.

"Personally, I don't believe my reputation needs to be purchased that way."

My refusal, again and again, finally cracked the mask she'd been wearing. The pretense of goodwill fell away, and raw anger bled through her voice.

"Marcus! Don't push your luck! I'm handing you a graceful exit! Who do you think you are without Lingua Tech? You think anyone in this industry is going to hire someone who burned bridges with their last employer?"

"Who I am without Lingua Tech, I'll find out soon enough. You don't need to worry about that."

"As for the dinner..."

The corner of my mouth curved, just barely.

"I've already sent the address. You pick the time."

Gretchen had probably never been defied like this by me before. Her face cycled between red and white, and it took her a long moment to force words through clenched teeth.

"You've got nerve, Marcus! Fine. Tomorrow night it is! I want to see just how generous you can be!"

By the time I walked out through the front doors, the sky had faded to dusk.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out. Gretchen had sent another message to the company group chat, tagging everyone:

"Tomorrow at six. Everyone shows up on time. Bring your families, bring your friends, the more the merrier. Whoever doesn't come is disrespecting Marcus and disrespecting me! @Everyone"

Below it, replies flooded in: "Got it" "Thanks, boss!" peppered with excited emojis.

I swiped the notification away without responding.

I knew that the higher they were bouncing now, the harder they'd crash tomorrow.