The Price of Greed

That set of seat cushions was custom-made leather, costing eight thousand dollars.

The hanging ornament was a protective charm my daughter had handmade, and the box in the trunk contained gifts I had paid for myself, prepared for clients.

I stood behind a pillar, watching them toss everything onto the ground like they were raiding a house, leaving it all to be stepped on.

Winnie even got into the driver’s seat, held the steering wheel, took a photo, and posted it on her social media.

The caption read: [New car in hand. Hard work pays off. Keep pushing.]

I looked at the post and casually gave it a like.

“Keep it up, Winnie.

“Just make sure you drive carefully.

“After all, this car doesn’t have the best temper.

“It only recognizes its owner.”

I said inwardly.

…

Early the next morning, the HR manager called me into a meeting room.

“Ava, your private use of a company vehicle has caused quite an impact within the company. After discussion, management has decided to temporarily revoke part of your authority.”

This manager, in his forties, had always been on decent terms with me. However, he seemed unusually stiff now, his gaze constantly avoiding mine.

“Mr. Anderson’s intention is that for this week, you won’t be involved in frontline operations. You’ll mainly focus on… self-reflection, and handing over your responsibilities.”

“To whom?” I looked up at him.

“Winnie.”

My brow lifted slightly. “The intern?”

“Mr. Anderson believes that although she lacks experience, she has strong principles and isn’t afraid to speak up or take charge. The company plans to make an exception and promote her, letting her take over part of your duties for now.”

Promotion.

I see.

Stepping on me to climb higher had earned Winnie her position. It was a well-calculated move.

“Okay.”

I didn’t say anything more.

When I returned to the office, Winnie had already set up a temporary desk beside mine.

She had changed into a sharp, tailored suit, her hair neatly styled. She almost looked the part.

“Ava,” she changed how she addressed me. There was no respect in her tone.

“Mr. Anderson asked me to coordinate with you on client materials, especially for Mr. Parker. He’ll be visiting next Monday, so I need to get familiar with everything in advance.”

Mr. Damien Parker.

He was the company’s biggest client right now, and the partnership I had wrestled back from a competitor three years ago, driving that car.

Mr. Parker cared a lot about appearances and even more about presence.

Back then, when he first sat in my car, he ran his hand over the leather seat and smiled. “Ms. Clark, a car reflects its owner. You’re bold and straightforward. I feel confident working with you.”

Now, Winnie wanted to take over that achievement.

“All the materials are in the shared system. Look them up yourself,” I said evenly.

“Some details probably aren’t in the documents, right?” Winnie leaned in slightly. “Like what kind of tea Mr. Parker prefers, any dietary restrictions at business dinners, and his usual hobbies?”

Looking at her ambitious face, I couldn’t help but find it a little amusing.

“Mr. Parker likes Earl Gray tea, doesn’t eat seafood, and plays golf in his free time.”

I only told her half the truth.

It was true that he liked Earl Gray and didn’t eat seafood, but what he hated most was people who put on airs and tried too hard to impress.

“Got it.” Winnie quickly jotted it down in her notebook.

“Thanks, Ava. Oh, and I’ve already handed the car keys to the driver, John. Mr. Anderson said the car will only be used to receive clients at Mr. Parker’s level from now on. Otherwise, it stays locked in the garage.”

“Sounds good.”

I nodded.

That afternoon, I went to the service center.

“Ms. Clark, long time no see.” The manager greeted me warmly. “How’s the car been running lately? Any issues?”