My Best Friend's Wife Fired Me, So I Retaliated

Just because my business expenses exceeded the budget by 8.8 dollars, my entire reimbursement form was voided—and I was fined one thousand dollars on top of that.

I hurried to the boss's wife, Marina, who managed the company's finances, to confront her.

She didn't even look up, lazily trimming her nails as she said, "That's the company's new policy. Nothing I can do about it."

"Rules are rules—without them, there's no order."

I couldn't reason with her, so I went to talk to Geoffrey, the boss himself, but instead of listening, he lectured me harshly.

"August, how many times have I told you? You can't go over the entertainment budget!"

"If everyone were as careless as you, how would the company survive?"

"Next time, forget a fine—I'll deduct your entire year-end bonus!"

Watching him scold me like I was some clueless intern, I couldn't help but laugh—out of anger more than amusement.

After walking out, I pulled out my phone and made a call.

"President Hansen? This is August from Evercrest Group Company."

"Remember that milk tea I bought you last time during our meeting? Could you transfer the payment to me?"

"It's not much—just 8 dollars and 80 cents."

——

There was a brief silence on the line before Hansen chuckled and said, "Sure, I'll send it right away."

When I hung up, I went straight back to the office and began drafting my resignation letter.

Two years ago, it had been a morning just like this—bright and full of promise.

That was when Geoffrey found me.

"August, I've just started my company, and I need someone I can trust."

"Come work with me. Let's build it together."

"I swear, no matter what happens—success or failure—I'll never treat you unfairly."

His tone was sincere. His eyes were full of conviction.

I hesitated for three days before quitting my secure, stable job and joining Evercrest Group, starting from the bottom as a junior salesperson.

Back then, the company was tiny and there was hardly any clients. Our office was tucked away in a shabby old district.

Doing sales meant one thing: you ran on your legs, your mouth, and your shamelessness.

Every morning, I'd stuff my bag with business cards and product catalogs, squeeze onto the earliest bus, and crisscross the city.

Industrial parks, office towers, wholesale markets—anywhere there might be a potential client, I'd show up.

To land our first major client, Aldoria Group, I visited their office every single day for half a month before finally meeting President Hansen.

He liked my persistence and decided to give me a chance.

The business dinner was held at an upscale restaurant downtown.

The air-conditioning was cold, yet sweat trickled down my back the whole time.

President Hansen's associates took turns toasting me—white wine, red wine, yellow liquor—mixing everything together.

Geoffrey was there too, but his alcohol tolerance was low; after a few glasses, his face turned bright red.

So most of the pressure fell on me.

I knew how crucial this deal was for the company. There was no way to refuse, so I had to endure it.

Glass after glass, I forced a smile, said all the flattering words I could think of, while my head grew heavier and heavier.

I couldn't remember how I left the restaurant—only that I ended up in the restroom, vomiting until my stomach was empty, bile rising in my throat.

The bitterness lingered for days, and I was hospitalized for three.

In the end, though, the deal went through, and the company finally turned a profit.

At the end of that month, Geoffrey awarded me a fifty thousand dollars bonus and spent ten full minutes praising me at the team meeting.

That wasn't the only time I gave everything for this company.

To meet clients before my competitors, I took overnight trains in hard seats, arriving at dawn looking disheveled but determined.

To save on travel expenses, I stayed in cheap motels for thirty dollars a night, where the walls were damp and moldy.

I waited for clients in the rain for over an hour after being stood up, drenched to the bone.

And when clients liked golf, I accompanied them to play—pretending I was interested.