Chapter 5

Bea, whose children were already adults and couldn't benefit from the school, stood up to chime in.

"Exactly! Chloe, it's not that we aren't grateful, but we demand equality!"

"Why should they get $2,300 in monthly benefits while we get nothing?"

"If you're actually sincere about fairness, liquidate the preschool budget and distribute that cash to all of us!"

The crowd began to chant.

"Yes! Distribute the cash! Cash payout!"

Greed had completely drowned out any lingering sense of shame. Their masks were completely off.

Watching their ugly, demanding faces, I slowly nodded.

"Fine. I will grant your wish. I’ll give you the exact 'equality' you want."

Cheers erupted from the crowd.

Amber's phone screen was flooded with "WE WON!" comments.

I waited for the applause to die down before continuing.

"To give everyone absolute fairness and choice..."

"After careful consideration, I have made a decision."

Everyone held their breath, staring at me with greedy anticipation.

"Effective immediately, the complimentary corporate preschool is permanently closed."

Instantly, the parents in the room gasped, whispering in panic.

On the other side of the room, there were cheers and whistles.

I didn't care. I clicked to the next slide to announce the second decision.

"To make it up to everyone, the company will transition to a flat monthly benefit stipend."

"Every single employee will receive exactly..."

"Ten dollars."

Silence. Deafening silence.

The phone Amber was using to live-stream slipped out of her hand and clattered onto the floor.

The massive drop from expecting thousands of dollars to a measly ten-dollar bill left everyone completely dumbfounded.

A few seconds later, Amber shrieked.

"Ten dollars?! Chloe! Are you kidding me? Are we beggars to you?"

"You just said the cost per kid was over two grand! Why do we only get ten dollars?!"

"You liar! You corrupt corporate scammer!"

I looked at her, my eyes cold as ice.

"The preschool's funding came from my personal funds, not the company's operational budget."

"My willingness to support my employees was my grace, not my legal obligation."

"Now that you’ve personally destroyed that grace, I am withdrawing my personal capital."

As I spoke, the official company-wide announcement went live on Snapchat.

"This ten-dollar stipend is the absolute maximum the finance department can squeeze out for everyone under our current corporate budget guidelines."

"This is the 'equality' you fought so hard for, even at the cost of the company's reputation."

"Now, everyone is perfectly equal."

The blood drained from everyone’s faces.

The single employees who had been cheering seconds ago now looked green.

To chase a hypothetical cash payout, they had just destroyed a world-class benefit they might have used in the future.

And all they got in return was a monthly ten-dollar bill.

As for the parents, they completely broke down.

Sarah Jenkins burst into loud, ugly tears. She ran up to the stage, grabbing my sleeve.

"Chloe, I'm sorry! We were wrong!"

"Please, I beg you, don't close the preschool! My daughter has nowhere else to go!"

"The other daycares in the city are either insanely expensive or dangerous!"

"We were wrong, Chloe! We were so wrong!"

Within seconds, dozens of parents rushed the stage, weeping, screaming, and begging.

The conference room descended into utter chaos.

Bea’s face turned from red to white.

She tried to slip out the back door, but a group of furious parents blocked her path.

"Bea Miller! This is your fault! You and Amber ruined everything!"

Bea stumbled backward, her voice trembling.

"Why are you blaming me? I was just trying to get us fairness!"

Amber was paralyzed with fear, hiding behind a chair, shivering.

She never expected that the colleagues who had praised her as a "hero" yesterday would look at her with such pure, unadulterated hatred today.

Watching the pathetic drama unfold, I felt nothing but exhaustion.

I signaled my security team to clear a path, pushing through the crowd. Before leaving, I turned back to them.

"The decision is final. It will not be reversed."

"From tomorrow on, the preschool is officially closed. All teachers and staff are dismissed."

"Good luck to you all."