They Called Me a Thief,Then the $20 Seafood Feast Destroyed Them All

What I didn't expect was that after I submitted my resignation, Derek's response nearly made my jaw hit the floor.

He waved it through without a second thought, but not before squeezing in a few backhanded jabs.

“You've been with the company for a few years now. Ask yourself honestly, what have you actually brought to the table?”

“Your salary is well above market rate, but your contributions? They don't even measure up to Kathy's, and she's brand new.”

Anger shot straight to the top of my skull. My nails dug into my palms so hard they left crescents in the skin.

I forced myself to stay calm, refused to let the fury steer.

“Mr. Harrington, the company's annual performance reviews are all on record. Every project and contract I've handled has been error-free. If I were really that useless, someone as budget-conscious as you would never have paid me a premium salary.”

He clearly hadn't expected me to push back. Surprise flashed across his face first, then curdled into indignation.

His face turned the color of raw liver. He jabbed a finger at me, sputtering "You— you— you—" without managing a single coherent sentence.

I stood up：“If there's nothing else, I have work to finish.”

I walked out without looking back.

I'd already resigned. Who in their right mind would sit there and let him gaslight them?

That same afternoon, Derek made two announcements in the company group chat.

First, Kathy Swanson's title was changing from purchasing assistant to secretary.

Second, any employee who had submitted a resignation would not be eligible for the Father's Day company benefit.

I was the only person who'd resigned recently.

I almost laughed. Petty and cheap to the bone. Classic Derek.

The group chat erupted with cheers.

“Kathy's talent speaks for itself. Making her secretary is long overdue.”

“Just thinking about future team dinners at places like The Peony Grand makes me realize how much we were missing out before!”

“Hear, hear! People who quit shouldn't be shameless enough to mooch off company perks.”

I watched the messages scroll by, then got up, walked right over to the people typing them, and held my payment QR code in front of their faces.

“You still owe me your share from the last team dinner.”

Their expressions went pale in an instant, mouths opening and closing without producing a single word.

I posted the receipts, the invoices, and my payment code directly into the group chat.

“Would everyone who hasn't paid their share from the last dinner please send me the money? I'd rather not have to come collect in person and make things awkward.”

They grumbled and cursed under their breath, but one by one, the transfers came through.

I felt nothing. These were people I'd never have to see again after I left. They weren't worth the energy.

Besides, they had no idea that I was looking forward to Father's Day even more than they were.

Because I'd already called ahead to check. Our company had no reservation at The Peony Grand. None.

So I was genuinely curious: where exactly were fifteen tables' worth of people going to sit?

Father's Day arrived before I knew it. I brought my parents to The Peony Grand early.

I studied the welcome board at the entrance carefully. Our company wasn't listed anywhere.

I also asked around and confirmed that every private room, banquet hall, and VIP space had been booked well in advance. Only the main dining hall on the first floor had any availability.

And if there was one odd thing, it was this: the first-floor hall clearly had extra tables sitting empty.

Yet the sharp-eyed hostess steered us straight past them and up to the second floor.

“I'm sorry, those tables are reserved.”

I counted the empty tables on my way past. Exactly fifteen.

Was it really just a coincidence?

But the tables weren't clustered together. They were scattered across the entire floor, and none of them had a company name card on display.

After my parents and I were seated on the second floor, my eyes kept drifting back down to the first floor.

My mom and dad called my name several times before I snapped out of it.

Then Kathy and Derek walked through the entrance with a crowd trailing behind them, and my chopsticks clattered to the floor.

What was going on? They actually showed up. Did Kathy really have that kind of pull?

Derek surveyed the tables scattered across the main dining hall and frowned：“Why are we out here in the open? Why wasn't a private room booked? And these tables are all spread apart.”

Kathy jumped in with an explanation：“There was nothing I could do. The whole thing got dumped on me so last minute that every good spot was already taken.”

Derek's expression softened slightly as he realized he was being unreasonable.

“Blame Beryl. No skills, but she just had to hog the assignment.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Once the group was seated, Derek started pressing Kathy to get the food coming.

“No rush.” Kathy's eyes darted around the room as though she were searching for something.

Derek's lips parted, but in the end he said nothing.

They were already inside the restaurant. What could possibly go wrong?

Derek's son, Clifford Harrington, looked like he'd been stamped from the same mold as his father: round-faced and overfed.

He gripped a pair of chopsticks in one hand and a spoon in the other, banging them on the table：“Dad, I wanna eat! I want seafood!”

“Kathy, can you hurry the food along? Everyone's starving.”

Gina chimed in：“For real! My dad and I haven't eaten since last night just to save room for this!”

Kathy's brows shot up and she snapped：“What are you, starving ghosts? Quit hounding me!”

The outburst shut everyone up. Faces soured across the table.

But nobody dared talk back. Kathy had spent weeks cultivating the image of a restaurant heiress, and the group was still buying it.

Thirty minutes later, our food upstairs was already served.

Downstairs, all fifteen tables still sat empty of food. Derek was about to lose it.

Then Kathy finally stood up, and Derek and the others let out a collective breath of relief.

They all assumed she was going to hurry the kitchen along.

What she did next, no one saw coming.