Part 3The Accidental Nepo Baby: How I Roasted My Boss and Burned Down Corporate

The rumor mill fired up immediately.

Word around the water cooler was that I was William Lawson's daughter.

One day, Jessica from HR came over to subtly interrogate me. I found it hilarious.

Sure, the new CEO kept his private family life strictly confidential, but still...

"You guys have my background check and emergency contact forms, right?" I asked.

Jessica gave me a knowing wink. "Come on, it's just us, you don't have to play dumb. The CEO's daughter is your exact age. And on your HR forms, the 'Father' section is left completely blank. We get it. We just didn't expect a nepo baby to be so low-key... well, I guess you're not that low-key, hahaha. We should have known! With an attitude like yours, you definitely have someone powerful backing you."

Yep. My father, who is currently resting in peace in the cemetery, is backing me.

I've got the ghosts of my ancestors on my side. Are you scared yet?

I told my best friend about this over drinks. She laughed so hard she choked. "Did you clarify things?"

I took a sip of my martini. "I basically inherited a billionaire work-dad for free, and no one actually confronted me directly. Would you clarify it?"

She slammed her glass down. "Clarify my ass. Only an idiot would correct them."

Exactly.

The rumor spread like wildfire. With my new "cheap dad" in play, my work life became unexpectedly smooth.

Every department head was suddenly incredibly polite to me. If I stared at them for more than two seconds, they started sweating.

Except for Greg.

During the week the rumor peaked, Greg was away on a business trip.

I don't know if his social standing was just that terrible or if people were intentionally trying to screw him over, but absolutely no one told him about the "Riley is the CEO's daughter" theory. He was completely in the dark.

When he came back, he was as arrogant and obnoxious as ever.

He walked into the office, didn't even sit down, and started screaming.

"I leave for one week, and the office looks like a dump! Do you people not know how to clean? Do you expect me to do it?"

After venting his weird midlife-crisis rage, his eyes darted around and locked onto me.

"Riley, go mop the floor and Windex the glass partitions."

Was he actually insane?

We had a dedicated janitorial staff that cleaned the building every night. Plus, we were on the 30th floor. Who the hell washes the outside windows?

If you want me to fall to my death, just say it directly.

I sat in silence for two seconds. Suddenly, Brenda, a senior woman in our office, shot up from her chair. "I'll do it! Riley, you focus on your work!"

I stared at her in shock.

Brenda used to be Greg's number one lackey. Whenever us younger hires got tortured, she played deaf and blind.

But today... she clearly realized that my metaphorical thighs were much thicker than Greg's, so she was jumping ship to my side.

Greg was baffled. "Brenda, you don't need to cover for them. You work hard enough taking care of your kids. Take a rest."

Oh right. Brenda was the one who constantly complained about how hard it was to be a mom, using it as an excuse to dump her actual corporate workload onto the juniors.

She spent her days in the office knitting sweaters and doing her kids' arts and crafts homework. Watching her had honestly made me fear marriage and childbirth.

Brenda waved her hands frantically. "I'm not tired at all! It's the young kids who are tired from working all the time! Hahaha, I'll go get the mop."

She practically sprinted out to find a bucket.

Um... ma'am, I'm actually not tired at all, because I don't do overtime.

Greg watched her leave in utter confusion. When he caught me staring at him, he quickly adjusted his expression and snapped at me.

"Young people need to have some initiative! You shouldn't have to wait for management to tell you what to do! How did your parents even raise you?!"

The moment those words left his mouth, the temperature in the office dropped to absolute zero.

Brenda had just walked back in with a mop. Hearing that, she dropped the bucket in sheer terror and stammered, "Oh my god, Greg, you really shouldn't say things like that."

Greg puffed out his chest. "I said what I said! So what? Dragons beget dragons, mice beget mice. In my opinion, her attitude is a direct reflection of her parents!"

Seeing the sheer panic in Brenda's eyes, I nodded in profound realization. "Greg, that makes perfect sense! No wonder you look like a giant rat!"

...

Greg was genuinely awful.

He couldn't beat me in an argument, so he resorted to sabotage.

Later that day, he told me to take a report upstairs to Mr. Davis, a senior director.

I actually needed to talk to Mr. Davis about something else anyway, so I grabbed the folder and headed to the elevators.

On the way up, I bumped into Mr. Davis's secretary.

When she heard Greg sent me, her eyes went wide. "He sent you?"

"Yeah, why?"

The secretary leaned in and whispered frantically, "Mr. Davis is furious right now. Your department submitted a summary report that is completely botched. We have representatives from our sister companies visiting today, and Mr. Davis is going to rip whoever walks through that door to shreds."

I was stunned. "Which report?"

She gave me a brief description, and I instantly knew what was happening.

That shameless rat Greg. It was the garbage report he wrote himself while he was on his business trip.

To prevent us from "stealing his credit," he refused to let any of us review it and submitted it directly to the director.

Haha. So when there's glory, you hoard it. But when there's a grenade, you throw me on top of it?

I don't think so.

The secretary gave me a sympathetic look. "Go back down. Tell Greg you're busy and make him bring it up himself. What's he going to do, fire you?"

A wicked idea formed in my head. I smiled brightly. "No way, I have to go. If I don't, who's going to speak up for our dear Greg?"