I Closed Every Deal,Then They Made Me Report to the Intern

"Since the company needs me, I'll stand my last watch."

"I'll be at the project meeting tomorrow morning. On time."

On the other end of the line, Finch audibly relaxed. His tone shifted back to its usual arrogance.

"Now that's more like it. Smart people know when to play ball. As long as you behave yourself and help Narelle get through this, I'm willing to let bygones be bygones."

I hung up and stared at the neon lights outside my window.

Let bygones be bygones?

Sorry. I hold grudges.

Tomorrow was the quarterly all-hands meeting, and the warm-up event ahead of the Oceanfront deal signing.

Word was that Dickerson himself would be there in person.

You want to put on a show?

Fine. I'll build you a stage you'll never forget.

The quarterly meeting was held in the banquet hall of a five-star hotel.

Dickerson had been cornered by Finch and Narelle, one flanking each side.

Narelle was wearing a red evening gown, her face glowing with the smile of someone who'd already won.

When she saw me walk in, she even raised her glass in a little taunt.

Max came over and dropped his voice to a warning. "Watch what you say when you get up there. I've got your script ready. Read it word for word. Don't make trouble for yourself."

He pressed a sheet of paper into my hand.

It was a written self-criticism. I was supposed to take personal responsibility for the project delays, blaming them on my health. And then, in front of everyone, I was to publicly pledge my full support to Narelle as the new team lead.

That was the script they'd written for me.

Sacrifice myself. Cement Narelle's authority.

"Don't worry." I folded the paper into my palm and smiled at him. "I'll say all the right things."

The meeting built toward its climax.

Finch strode onto the stage, face flushed with satisfaction.

"This past quarter, Grandmark Capital has reached new heights! None of this would have been possible without fresh talent joining our ranks, or without the selfless dedication of our veteran employees!"

The audience erupted in applause.

"Now, I'd like to present this quarter's Best Newcomer Award and our Special Contribution Award!"

"The Best Newcomer Award goes to Narelle Bennett! With a prize of fifteen thousand dollars!"

The spotlight swung onto Narelle. She gathered the hem of her gown and strutted to the stage like a peacock in full display, accepting an oversized novelty check from Finch's hands.

"Next up, the Special Contribution Award." Finch's gaze drifted to me, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Edwina Henson! Let's give her a round of applause!"

I walked onto the stage.

Finch wasn't holding a check. Instead, he signaled for an attendant to bring forward a tray.

On the tray sat a stainless steel thermos stamped with the company logo.

The room erupted in murmurs.

Whispers rippled through the crowd. A few people covered their mouths to stifle laughter.

Fifteen thousand dollars in cash versus a thermos.

That was the difference between a top performer who'd earned her rank and a well-connected nobody who'd been handed hers.

This wasn't just cheap. This was humiliation, served on a silver platter.

Finch picked up the thermos.

"Edwina, this isn't just a thermos. It represents the company's care for you. You're one of our most seasoned veterans. You need to stay hydrated, take care of your health, so you can keep shining for the company and clearing the path for the younger generation. We should all celebrate this spirit of selfless mentorship! That kind of spirit is worth more than money!"

The smattering of applause that followed felt like a slap across my face.

Narelle stood beside me, mockery swimming in her eyes. "Thank you for everything you've done, Edwina. I'll be counting on your guidance going forward."

I took the thermos.

It was heavy in my hands. Cold as a stone.

I looked out at the hundreds of faces below the stage. I saw Dickerson's brow furrowed deep.

I stepped up to the microphone.

"Thank you, Mr. Finch. Thank you for the company's generous appreciation."

My voice carried through the speakers and echoed across the entire banquet hall.

"This book and this thermos really are more valuable than money. Because they taught me something."

I paused, the smile on my face slowly fading.

Then my voice turned cold as steel.

"They taught me that loyalty to this company isn't worth a damn."

At the same time, my flash drive connected to the computer, and the presentation I'd prepared—loaded with the truth—blazed to life on the massive screen behind me.

The entire room went dead silent.

Darrell Finch's smile froze on his face. Max Whitney shot to his feet.