Chapter 1

I worked at the company for five years. I was the very first employee Richard ever hired.

From just the two of us to a powerhouse team of a hundred, I built that company from the ground up.

Yet right after our five-year anniversary gala, Richard told me I was being laid off.

"The company needs fresh blood. You just can't keep up with our new vision anymore."

"Don't make this hard on both of us. Sign the severance papers and walk away."

I didn't argue. I took my severance package and left.

Two weeks later, the cracks began to show.

The company’s three biggest enterprise clients canceled their contracts simultaneously, cutting off their entire cash flow.

Pending orders collapsed. Core talent began handing in their resignations one by one.

Richard barged into my newly leased office, face mottled red, slamming his fist onto my desk:

"You’re sabotaging my foundation!"

I took a sip of my coffee and looked him dead in the eye.

"Your foundation? I laid every single brick of that wall with my bare hands. If I tear it down now, who's going to stop me?"

Richard’s face turned the color of bruised eggplant. His chest heaved violently, his silk tie askew, the eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses bloodshot and wild.

"Chloe!" His voice cracked in a raspy roar. "Do you have any idea what you’re doing? You’re destroying me!"

"Destroying you?" I set my porcelain mug down. It hit the tempered glass desktop with a crisp *clink*.

"Funny, Richard. That wasn’t your tone when you handed me my pink slip."

I stood up, walked around the wide executive desk, pulled a thick dossier from the drawer, and tossed it right in front of him.

The papers fanned out across the glass.

It was a master list of every single client account I had managed over the past five years.

"Five years ago, I spent four days on my feet at the convention center until the skin on my heels peeled off, just to land you your very first corporate client."

I tapped the first row. "Arthur Miller. You don’t even know his daughter’s birthday, do you? I personally picked out holiday gifts for his family every year. When his youngest daughter prepped to study abroad, I spent three afternoons running errands with his wife."

Richard’s eyes flickered, looking away.

"And this one."

My finger glided down to the third entry.

"Sterling Group. You complained their terms were too harsh and wanted to quit. I pulled seventeen consecutive all-nighters rewriting the pitch decks until they finally signed."

"So what?!"

Richard slammed both hands on the desk. The jolt made my coffee cup jump, splashing dark roast across the clean surface.

"Get this through your head, Chloe—it’s *my* company! I put food on your table for five years!"

"Put food on my table?" I let out a soft, mocking laugh.

"Richard, the business bled red ink for the first three years. What money did you have to feed me? We broke even in year four, and profits tripled in year five because I slept four hours a night to keep a team of a hundred people fed."

Richard’s lower lip trembled.

He took half a step back, the heel of his leather shoe catching the leg of a chair, making him stagger.

"So... you’re really hellbent on ruining me?"

I didn't answer. I turned around and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at the bustling city traffic below.

The late summer sun baked against the glass, radiating a dry, scorching heat.

"I wouldn't call it ruining you. I'm just taking back what's mine."

"Arthur Miller, Marcus Sterling, and Warren over at South Bay—they’re working with me now because they trust *me*, not you. What did you tell everyone at the anniversary gala? That the company needed fresh blood? That I couldn't keep up?"

I turned back, pinning him with an icy stare. "Fresh blood? You paid that flashy new director an eighty-thousand-dollar signing bonus, and he tanked three major accounts in three months."

"While my team and I were busting our asses cleaning up his mess, where were you? You were busy taking that new intern on an all-expenses-paid weekend in Miami."

Richard’s face drained of every ounce of color.

His mouth worked silently before he forced out a harsh, dry chuckle.

"Don't push your luck, Chloe."

His voice dropped into a low, venomous hiss. "You really think poaching a few clients will bring me down? I’ve been in this industry for years. I have connections you can't even dream of."

"Then let's see them," I said, opening my office door. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Richard froze for three long seconds. Suddenly, he grabbed the potted pothos from my side table and hurled it violently onto the floor.

The ceramic pot shattered. Dark soil scattered everywhere, leaves sticking to the pristine white baseboard.

"You’ll regret this!" he spat. His dress shoes crunched over broken ceramic shards as he stormed out like a cornered animal.