I ground away at the company for fifteen years. I personally trained sixty-two top-performing sales champions. Today, the company announced layoffs, and the list had only one name on it: mine. While I was zoning out in a coffee shop, the Chairman sat down across from me with a cheerful smile. "How are the presentation materials coming along for next week's Ace Sales Training?" I closed my laptop and looked at him calmly. "Mr. Chairman, I was just laid off." The smile on his face froze instantly... 01 The frozen smile was like a poorly drawn frame of animation forcibly paused. Richard Sterling, the founder of Vanguard Group, the man I had called Mr. Chairman for fifteen years, now had muscles twitching uncontrollably on his face. The latte he had just brought over still exuded a warm aroma, but the fingers gripping the cup were trembling slightly. "What?" He squeezed the word out through clenched teeth, his voice changing pitch from shock. "What did you say? Who laid you off? This is absurd!" He stood up abruptly, a movement so large it knocked over his chair, creating a harsh scraping sound that drew sideways glances from everyone in the coffee shop. But he didn't care at all. He pulled out his phone, his fingers jabbing furiously at the screen, his anger practically erupting from it. "Which department did this? HR? Or that guy named Miller in Sales?" The call connected. He roared into the receiver, saliva flying. "Arthur Miller! Have you lost your damn mind? Who gave you the authority to fire Chloe? Do you know she has a company-wide Ace Training next week? How is the company supposed to function without her? Is your brain broken?" I sat quietly, even having the leisure to pick up that latte and take a small sip. The coffee was fragrant, and also very bitter. I looked at Mr. Sterling's livid face, at his chest heaving violently with anger, but inside, I felt dead silence. Just three hours ago, my life had been brutally split in two. ... "Director Davis, here is your termination notice." The newly appointed, parachuted-in Vice President, Arthur Miller, pushed a cold document in front of me. Behind him stood a young woman with exquisite makeup, her eyes filled with undisguised contempt and smugness. She was Arthur's niece, Mia, a recent college graduate. "The company needs to optimize its organizational structure and inject fresh blood." Arthur's corporate speak was airtight. "Director Davis, thank you for your fifteen years of hard work. But times are changing, and your methods might not be quite suited for today's fast-paced market." Mia stepped forward, her slender fingers tracing over the rows of trophies on my desk, finally picking up the heaviest one: the "Group Fifteen-Year Outstanding Contribution Award." She tossed it in her hand, like weighing a worthless toy. "Senior, looking at these things now, they are indeed a bit outdated." She smiled charmingly, but her words were incredibly venomous. "Nowadays, it's all about internet thinking and monetizing traffic. We young people won't learn your grunt work of running door-to-door to clients." Standing in my office were several team leaders I had personally promoted. They had once stood outside my office door for two hours just to get a training spot. They had once wept tears of joy in front of me for signing a huge deal. Right now, they all had their heads down, their eyes dodging, like a flock of tamed quails, even breathing carefully. Arthur raised his wrist to check his watch, his tone carrying impatience. "Director Davis, I'll give you one hour to pack your personal belongings. All data on the company computer is company property. I will have the tech department change the passwords immediately." What he was talking about was the complete training system I had spent fifteen years building, hailed as Vanguard Group's sales bible: the "Thunderbolt Protocol." That was my child, the sum total of my entire career's effort. Now, they wanted to kick me out and steal my child. I didn't argue, I didn't roar, I didn't even have an expression. I just calmly stood up and packed a water cup and a potted plant from my desk. The moment I walked out of the office, I heard Mia impatiently issuing orders to the others. "Quick, clean up this office thoroughly. I don't like this old, decaying smell!" Behind me, the hasty agreements of my former subordinates echoed. I walked out of the Vanguard Group building step by step. The sunlight was blinding. I looked back at this building where I had struggled for fifteen years; it gleamed with cold light in the sun. On that dead wasteland in my heart, there wasn't even a breeze. ... On the other end of the phone, Arthur's voice came through the receiver, not loud, but carrying an emboldened toughness. I couldn't hear what he said clearly, but I saw the anger on Mr. Sterling's face extinguish instantly, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head. His momentum weakened at a visible rate. The roaring turned into suppressed questioning, and finally into powerless compromise. "...I understand." Mr. Sterling hung up the phone, his face looking as ugly as if he had swallowed a fly. He sat down dejectedly, avoiding my gaze, and promised dryly: "Chloe, you... trust me, this must be a misunderstanding. Don't worry, I... I'll go communicate with the shareholders again. Tomorrow, you come to work as normal." I looked at him, this man who had once been as reliable as a mountain in my heart. His eyes were wandering, his promises hollow. I asked calmly, "Mr. Sterling, do you mean I should ignore the termination contract already issued by HR, ignore the face-to-face dismissal order from VP Miller, and just walk through the company doors openly tomorrow?" My voice was soft, but like a needle, it precisely pierced his hypocritical protective shell. "When that happens, will I be stopped at the door by security, or treated as a trespasser and handed over to the police?" He opened his mouth but couldn't say a single word. I closed the laptop in front of me and stood up. "Thank you for the coffee, Mr. Sterling." I looked at his instantly aged face, and the last bit of attachment to this company in my heart vanished like smoke. "Goodbye." I turned and left, without looking back. I could feel his complex gaze—full of regret, powerlessness, and mixed with relief—sticking to my back. Goodbye, Vanguard. Goodbye, my fifteen years of youth. 02 The next day, I didn't receive a call from Mr. Sterling. What I received was an icy, official termination email from the HR department. In the attachment was the severance package. Standard severance pay based on years of service plus one month. Not a penny more, not a penny less, strictly executing the minimum standard of labor laws. They couldn't even be bothered to offer a final bit of dignity. I looked at that glaring number and suddenly smiled. Fifteen years of dedication, the cultivation of sixty-two top sales reps, countless days and nights of blood, sweat, and tears, ultimately amounted to just this little bit of money. Truly, clean and efficient. I picked up my phone and sent Mr. Sterling one last message. "Mr. Sterling, thank you for your cultivation over the past fifteen years." No questioning, no resentment, just a polite farewell. Like declaring the absolute death of a relationship. The phone screen lit up and dimmed, darkened and lit up. In the end, he still didn't reply. I tapped open the WeChat group I had personally created, the once bustling "Vanguard Top Sales" group. Inside the group, dead silence. As if everyone had agreed to play deaf and dumb regarding my departure. I drafted a message and sent it. "I have left the company. Take care, everyone." On the screen, my solitary sentence was like a pebble sinking into the deep sea, failing to stir up a single ripple. After a long time, a few people cautiously sent me private messages. The content was largely the same, nothing more than "Chloe, this is so sudden" or "Chloe, take care." One of them was a regional director I had once mentored hand-in-hand, now holding a high position in the company. He sent a sentence: "Chloe, I'm sorry." Then, I found out he had deleted me. I clicked into his profile. His latest post was sharing a company press release about VP Miller's far-sighted leadership reforming and innovating the sales department. My heart felt like it was gripped by an invisible hand—not painful, just a bit numb. What made me feel even more absurd was another top sales rep. Let's call him Rep B. Three years ago, because of a gambling addiction, he owed a massive gambling debt and was cornered by debt collectors at the company entrance. It was I who quietly paid off that money for him and pulled him back from the brink of being fired. He knelt in front of me then, crying and saying I would be his real sister from now on. Right now, he sent me a WeChat message. "Chloe, VP Miller is young and promising, and he has the backing of major shareholders; his future is limitless. Don't blame us folks lower down, we all have to eat." Before I could reply, I saw his profile update. An intimate photo of him with Arthur Miller. In the photo, he smiled obsequiously and attentively. The caption read: "Following VP Miller's lead closely, creating brilliance once again!" That smiling face, right now in my eyes, was incredibly ugly. I silently scrolled through my phone contacts. Sixty-two sales champions I had personally cultivated. At this moment, not a single one dared to speak up for me in public. It turns out human nature could be this cold and thin. I felt no anger, nor sorrow. I just took out a pen and paper, and stroke by stroke, clearly wrote down the names of that regional director who deleted me and that Rep B who was "creating brilliance once again" in his post. I don't have many virtues, but I have a particularly good memory. Especially for holding grudges. Right then, my phone rang abruptly. The name on the caller ID cracked open a tiny fissure in my frozen heart. Leo. The first sales champion I ever mentored. Also the only one who, after leaving Vanguard, successfully started his own business and kept in touch with me. I answered the phone. "Chloe, where are you?" Leo's voice was crisp and clean as always, carrying irrepressible anger. "I just heard what those bastards did. How are you holding up? Don't trust Richard Sterling, that old fox. He only acts like a good guy when there's no conflict of interest. And ignore those spineless cowards, a bunch of ungrateful wretches who bite the hand that feeds them!" This call was the first human words, the first warmth I heard after being laid off. I looked at the gray sky outside the window, and my perpetually tense nerves finally loosened. I sniffled, my voice remaining calm. "No need to come over, I'm fine." "I just need some time to liquidate my assets." Leo on the other end of the line paused, then understood something. "Chloe, you..." "Wait for my news." I hung up, my gaze becoming sharp again. Yes, assets. It's time to let them know what my, Chloe Davis's, true assets actually are. 03 Two days later, Leo appeared at my apartment, looking travel-worn. Looking at the living room, as tidy as ever, and my calm face, his suspended heart dropped halfway. "Chloe, are you really okay?" He asked, still worried. I smiled, didn't answer, but turned to the safe in the study and took out a thick manila envelope. I laid the contents out on the coffee table piece by piece. A stack of yellowed, handwritten manuscripts. A portable hard drive containing a massive amount of original files. And a thin, yet overwhelmingly weighty, supplementary agreement. "What's this?" Leo picked up the agreement, the expression on his face going from confused, to shocked, to ecstatic. "Chloe! You..." He was so excited he was incoherent. This agreement was something I specifically added ten years ago when renewing my long-term contract with Vanguard Group. At that time, my "Thunderbolt Protocol" sales training system was just taking shape. It had achieved huge success within the group and attracted the covetous eyes of countless peers. To keep me, Mr. Sterling agreed to almost every request I made. This request I made didn't seem unreasonable at the time. The agreement explicitly stated: Within the "Thunderbolt Protocol" training system, all course models, core methodologies, case study libraries, and related text, charts, audio, and video materials independently originated by me, Chloe Davis, have their intellectual property rights belonging to me personally. Vanguard Group only had the right to free use during my tenure. At the end of the agreement was Richard Sterling's flamboyant signature and the bright red corporate seal of the group. This was the final talisman I kept for myself back then, to prevent my life's work from being shamelessly plagiarized. I never thought that one day, it would become my nuclear weapon for counterattack. "Chloe, this is a nuclear weapon!" Leo's voice was trembling. "We'll send a lawyer's letter right now! Sue them! Make them pay until they're bankrupt!" I shook my head, picked up my teacup, and blew on the floating tea leaves. "No rush." My tone was as calm as discussing the weather. "A nuclear weapon cannot be used lightly. It must be used at the most critical moment to inflict maximum damage." Leo looked at me, his eyes full of awe. "Then... what do we do now?" I opened my laptop, logged into a long-unused old account, and entered Vanguard Group's internal forum. As soon as it opened, the screen was filled with promotions for next week's Ace Sales Training. Bright red headlines, exhausting all capabilities of flattery. Genius Rookie Mia Injects New Vitality into the Classic "Thunderbolt Protocol"! Epoch-Making Upgrade! "Thunderbolt Protocol 2.0" About to Detonate the Whole Group! The accompanying picture was a heavily photoshopped image of Mia in an expensive business suit, a confident smile on her face. The curve of my lips grew colder and colder. "Upgraded version? Very well." I pointed at the screen and said to Leo, "Isn't Mia supposed to give the Ace Training lecture next week?" "Let her." "Every word she says, every PowerPoint slide she uses, will become courtroom evidence. It will make the Arthur Miller behind her, and the entire Vanguard Group, lose face completely in front of the whole company." Leo suddenly understood, excitedly slapping his thigh. "Chloe, this move of yours is too ruthless! A public execution!" I smiled, but there was no amusement in my eyes. "I just want to see how a thief, under the spotlight, can righteously claim stolen goods as her own." "I want to make Richard Sterling, and all the executives at Vanguard, see clearly exactly what they drove away, and what kind of trash they are holding in the palms of their hands." I closed the laptop and looked out the window. The moment before a storm is always exceptionally quiet. And I am the one summoning the storm. 04 On the day of the Ace Sales Training, Vanguard Group's main auditorium was packed. To build momentum for Mia, Arthur Miller specifically ordered an internal live stream across the entire group. From headquarters to major regional offices, from middle management to frontline sales, thousands of people were watching online. I sat leisurely on my couch at home, the massive screen in front of me showing the live feed. Leo was beside me, his palms sweating from nervousness. "Chloe, the cease-and-desist letters are ready to go at any moment." "Wait a little longer." I picked up a cup of pour-over coffee, completely composed. On the screen, Mia, wearing an expensive white Chanel suit, stood under the spotlight, trying hard to strike the pose of a capable elite. Unfortunately, her pitiful lack of experience and empty eyes completely failed to support the outfit, making her look ridiculous instead. The training began. She opened the PPT and started reading from the script. That PPT was the final version I had spent three all-nighters making last month. Every word, every image, every case study was steeped in my blood and sweat. Mia clearly hadn't grasped the content; she was just stumbling through the script. When it came to several key interactive segments, she couldn't handle the questions thrown by the veteran salespeople below at all. She either prevaricated or skipped them entirely, making the scene highly awkward. In the live stream chat, veiled sarcasm began to appear. "This... is not even as good as me explaining it." "Feels like listening to a recording." "VP Miller looks green in the front row." I saw it. Arthur Miller, sitting in the front row, did indeed look increasingly terrible. He frequently winked at Mia on stage, his lips pressed tightly together, stopping just short of going up there himself. Receiving her uncle's warning, fine beads of sweat appeared on Mia's forehead, and her voice began to tremble. To salvage the situation, she took a deep breath and, pretending to be calm, pressed the button for the next slide. "Next, I will explain in detail the core, original model of the 'Thunderbolt Protocol'—The Three Gates of Client Psychology!" Now. I picked up my phone and sent one word to the head of Leo's legal team. "Send." In an instant, it was as if an invisible, massive net descended from the sky, enveloping the entire Vanguard Group. All board members, including Richard Sterling. All executives at the Vice President level and above, including Arthur Miller. The heads of all major regions, and all employees of the group's legal department. Their phones and computers, at the exact same moment, received an email from a top-tier national law firm. The subject line was concise, yet shocking. [Warning of Infringement Regarding Vanguard Group and its Employee Mia's Severe Violation of Ms. Chloe Davis's "Thunderbolt Protocol" Intellectual Property Rights] The body of the email was well-organized, with irrefutable evidence. A scanned copy of the yellowed supplementary agreement with Richard Sterling's handwritten signature. The original manuscripts and creation records with detailed timestamps that I had accumulated over more than a decade. And, a real-time live stream link. The link pointed exactly to the footage of Mia on stage, spitting everywhere as she explained "The Three Gates of Client Psychology." The live stream chat, after three seconds of dead silence, completely exploded. "?????? What email did I just receive??" "Holy shit! I got it too! Sent by a top law firm!" "Director Davis's IP? So this whole set of things belongs to Director Davis herself?" "What Mia is presenting is Director Davis's material? This is... theft?" "VP Miller, come out and explain! What the hell is going on!" "My god, stealing things on a public live stream, this is too wild!" On stage, Mia had absolutely no idea what had happened. She watched the suddenly agitated crowd below, saw them all looking down at their phones, and then looking at her with expressions as if they'd seen a ghost. The hand holding the microphone began to tremble uncontrollably. Her mind went completely blank. She looked pleadingly at Arthur Miller in the audience. Arthur Miller didn't look at her. He stared fixedly at his phone screen. That face could no longer be described as ugly; it was black as the bottom of a pot, twisted and fierce. He had the heart to kill someone. ... At the same time, in the Chairman's office. Richard Sterling stood up from his executive chair with a whoosh, the huge movement knocking over a precious Yixing clay teacup on his desk. Scalding tea spilled all over his hand, but he felt nothing. He stared dead at the scanned copy of the agreement in the email, looking at the name he had signed when he was high-spirited and vigorous back then. He finally understood completely what I meant by "liquidating assets" that day in the coffee shop. It wasn't a remark made in anger. It was a declaration of war, drafted long ago. I turned off the noisy live stream. On the screen, Mia looked like she was about to cry, like a clown stripped naked and thrown into the middle of a public square. I had seen enough of this good show. I sent Leo a message. "Step one, complete." The phone vibrated. It was Leo's reply. "Chloe, badass!" I smiled and finished the last sip of coffee in my cup. The good show had just begun.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "391100", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel