Part 2The Three Cent Takedown

"Marcus, financial standards are mandated by law. They can’t just be changed at will…" Even Gary, the calmest guy in the room, couldn't keep quiet.

"Shut up!" Marcus roared. "In this company, I am the standard!"

He glared at the team. "I think you’re all just faking it to rack up overtime pay." He accused us of being 'miserable and lazy.'

A choked sob came from Lisa, our bookkeeper. "Marcus, we haven't requested a dime of overtime pay for these three nights..."

Marcus's gaze swept over her, and she instantly shut up.

"Stop trying to fool me. I hire you to solve problems, not create them." He checked his Rolex. "You figure out how to balance that ledger by tonight."

"If you can't handle something this simple, I think the Finance Department needs a complete overhaul. You, Vivian, can go home and play mom. Skylar, you have so many fresh ideas, I think you should get more involved in management."

"Come on, Skylar. Let's go. Don't let these people bother you. I'm taking you out for omakase to settle your nerves."

He draped his arm around Skylar's shoulders and led her toward the door. As they left, Skylar looked back, made a childish, mocking face at me, and was gone.

She left a room full of defeated people, surrounded by mountains of crumpled work papers.

Lisa stood up, tears streaming down her face. She ripped her badge off her lanyard and slammed it onto the desk.

"I quit! I am done with this toxic place!"

"We bust our butts, and we get chewed out. That log-wiping idiot gets a fancy dinner?"

The others were similarly furious. "Vivian, we should all walk out."

"We can't stay here."

"This is completely unacceptable!"

I looked at the teammates who had stood with me for three years.

"If we're going to walk," I said, my voice cold and hard, "they need to be crippled first."

"Gary, lock all original receipts and vouchers in the safe. Lisa, every single one of you, log and screenshot every modification you've made. Back up everything."

"And Sam, pull the security footage from earlier. The one where Skylar explicitly admits to deleting the key."

The next morning, my desk was gone.

I walked into the office. The door was wide open. My belongings—my CPA certificate, my performance trophies, the framed photo of my team and me—were all strewn on the floor, shoved into a cardboard box.

Skylar was sitting in my executive chair, spinning slowly. She wasn't wearing business attire. She was in a tight cashmere sweater, a mini-skirt, and black tights. She was taking selfies and sipping a Starbucks coffee.

"Morning, Old Timer," she greeted me with a smirk.

"Marcus said whoever gets here first gets the seat. Director, intern, it's all equal now. You can take the spot by the front door of the main office. You'll be convenient for running out and grabbing lunch orders."

Colleagues were pretending to walk past the office, their necks craned, trying to hear what was happening inside.

I walked toward her. "This is the Finance Director's workstation. It contains confidential company files. You do not have the clearance."

Skylar rolled her eyes, placing her coffee directly on top of the financial reports I’d meticulously organized. Condensation immediately ran down the cup, soaking the top page.

"Confidential, schmonfidential. It's just a bunch of stupid invoices, isn't it?"

"It's all you guys ever do—nagging people about receipts. It's so annoying!" she exclaimed. "I’m here to eliminate this kind of pointless busywork! No more pointless overtime! No more workplace gaslighting!"

I reached out to move her coffee. Skylar screamed and snatched it out of my hand.

"Are you trying to throw my coffee? I’m going to tell Marcus you’re bullying me!"

Skylar grabbed a stack of original expense vouchers that Lisa had sent over for audit approval yesterday.

Riiip!

She tore the stack cleanly in half and tossed the pieces into the nearby trash can.

"I'm not organizing these! This garbage job is beneath me."