The company's top salesman came to me for his team-building expense reimbursement. I didn't even look up as I flatly rejected his request. "I can't approve this. The budget is gone." He stared at me in absolute disbelief. "It's only the 1st of the month. How can we be out of money? Every person gets a $100 allowance!" But I held my ground and absolutely refused to process his claim. Unable to tolerate it any longer, he went straight to the big boss to complain about me. "Boss! You can't let her target her colleagues like this!" "If she doesn't approve the team-building budget, how am I supposed to boost morale?" "She's penny-pinching us to death! She's trying to ruin the company!" Seeing that the situation had finally blown up. I smiled, stood up, and pulled out the last six months of billing records from my drawer... 1 When Jason's expense report was slid in front of me, I didn't even bat an eye. My fingers typed the final digit on the keyboard. Only after I saved the organized spreadsheet did I reach out and take that thin piece of paper. His flamboyant signature was scrawled across the top, and a glaring number was filled in the amount column. "I can't approve this." I pushed the form back to him, my voice flat and emotionless. "The departmental budget for this month is already depleted." The smug smile on Jason's face froze, as if he hadn't heard me clearly. "What? Rachel, say that again?" I looked up, meeting his gaze directly. "I said, the administrative budget for this month is gone." "That's impossible!" He slammed his hand on my desk, drawing the side-eyes of everyone in the office. "It's only the first of the month!" "The company's team-building allowance is $100 per person per month. Our sales department has over a hundred people. You're telling me a $10,000 limit is just gone?" A young salesman behind him immediately chimed in. "Yeah, Rachel, our top sales team just won a major contract. What's wrong with having a victory dinner?" "You're new here, so maybe you don't know the ropes, but you can't just block us like this, can you?" "Yeah, she has no social awareness." "So petty!" "It's not like we do this every month!" His subordinates chimed in one after another. Their voices weren't loud, but they buzzed annoyingly like flies. I ignored the background noise, my eyes fixed solely on Jason. Seeing that I was unyielding, his expression of shock turned into rage. His face flushed red, and he pointed his finger at my nose, cursing: "Rachel, are you deliberately trying to make things difficult for me?" "Let me tell you, don't think that just because you sit in that chair, you can control the sales department!" "We're the ones making money for the company. We're not here to take crap from a little accountant like you!" I leaned back in my chair, letting his spittle fly through the air, my tone remaining perfectly calm. "Jason, the rules are the rules." "The portion your team overspent last month was automatically carried over and deducted from this month's budget according to financial policy." "So, this month's allowance was completely wiped out at exactly midnight on the 1st." My words carried clearly into every corner of the office. Instantly, a deathly silence fell over the room, leaving only the sound of the central air conditioning blowing. The colleagues who had been watching the drama unfold now looked at me with complex expressions. Some with pity, some with disdain, but mostly with an aloof indifference. They probably thought I was crazy—a new accountant daring to go head-to-head with the company's hottest star salesman. What could possibly have overspent by that much? In the end, they definitely thought I was just too stingy to release that much money at the beginning of the month. Jason was choked up by my completely justified and factual statement for a long time, unable to utter a single word, his chest heaving violently. He had probably never imagined that his usually infallible tactics would hit a brick wall with me. Finally, he squeezed out a sentence through gritted teeth. "Fine, Rachel. Just you wait." 2 He grabbed the expense report, crumpled it fiercely into a ball, threw it into the trash can in front of me, turned, and slammed the door as he left. The massive bang made the pen holder on my desk tremble. The tense air in the office only slightly loosened after his departure. Someone secretly shot me a "take care of yourself" look, then quickly lowered their head, pretending to be busy. Expressionless, I picked that crumpled ball of paper out of the trash, smoothed it out, and clipped it into a dedicated folder. They all thought this was the first time I had angered Jason, thinking I was a rigid, inexperienced rookie. Only I knew that this was not the first time. Jason's expense reports were incredibly varied and staggeringly frequent. Dining out and hitting the clubs were commonplace; he even had the audacity to submit receipts from luxury spas and massage parlors for reimbursement. Every time, he would just toss the receipt on my desk and say something smooth. "Rachel, it's all for team morale. You cover it first, and I'll push the paperwork through immediately." His "paperwork" meant never mentioning it again. When I first joined the company, before I understood how things worked here, I had fronted over $20,000. That money was still sitting lonely on my personal ledger, like an unclaimed bad debt. I had followed up twice. The first time, he laughed it off, saying he forgot and would get it done in a couple of days. The second time, he was in the middle of the office, surrounded by a group of subordinates, loudly boasting about the million-dollar contract he had just signed. I merely walked up to him and softly reminded him about the reimbursement. In front of everyone, he slammed his coffee mug down heavily on the table. The sound wasn't loud, but it was enough to silence the entire sales department. He looked at me like I was a bothersome, ignorant child, and spoke slowly, his voice dripping with undisguised contempt. "It's just a few thousand bucks. Do you really have to chase me for it every single day?" "One of my contracts is worth millions. Do I look like I'm short on your little bit of money?" The surrounding area instantly erupted in suppressed, mocking laughter. Those stares pierced me like needles. From that day on, I never asked for that money again. They all thought I had backed down, that I was a soft target scared off by a single sentence from the top salesman. Jason became increasingly brazen in front of me, treating my advances and tolerance as his natural right. I didn't defend myself; I just slowly collected all this evidence, piece by piece. I would wait until he rolled his snowball of lies big enough, until the moment he could no longer cover it up himself. When all the bad debts exploded at once, he and his so-called "achievements" would be permanently nailed to the company's ledger, with no chance of ever turning things around. I looked at the receipts in the folder that I had smoothed out—the evidence recording his greed—and a cold smile curled on my lips. Jason, don't rush. This opportunity is coming very soon. 3 Starting the next day, my desk became the eye of the storm. At 5:59 PM, Jason's most capable lieutenant, a guy named Kevin, dropped a half-meter-high stack of documents on my desk with a loud thud. "Rachel, urgent. These fifty contracts have to be mailed out tonight. The clients are waiting." I glanced at the clock on the wall. The minute hand had just hit the twelve position. The office was filled with the noisy chatter of people packing up to leave. Kevin's voice stood out clearly amidst it all, carrying undisguised provocation. I didn't say a word. I simply pulled the pile of contracts toward me, verified the addresses one by one, checked the signatures and seals, and then packed them into shipping envelopes. The office emptied out, the lights went off one by one, until only the harsh white light above my head remained. The night deepened outside the window, and I was the only beacon of light left in the entire office building. When I dragged my exhausted body out of the building, it was nearly midnight. This was only the beginning. When I went to the pantry for water, someone would always "accidentally" bump into me. The boiling hot water would spill, either scalding the back of my hand or soaking the documents I had just organized. The apologies were light and utterly insincere, accompanied by suppressed snickers from those nearby. I could only repeatedly blot the soaked papers dry with paper towels, then spread them out on the radiator, watching the ink bleed into blurry smudges. The pantry became their stage. Jason and his followers would always specifically gather there to loudly boast when I was heating up my lunch. "Hey, look at some women these days, dressing like they're from the middle of nowhere..." "All they know is how to pinch pennies. No wonder she's destined to be a lowly clerk for the rest of her life." "Right? Zero situational awareness. Treating the company like her own personal piggy bank, calculating every single cent." "People like that, how could they ever be successful." Their voices were neither too loud nor too soft, just enough for me and everyone else straining their ears to hear perfectly clearly. Expressionless, I took my lunchbox out of the microwave, turned, and left. Behind me was their increasingly brazen, roaring laughter. Rumors began to spread silently throughout the company. There were many versions, but the core idea was always the same— I, Rachel, because I had been publicly humiliated by Jason, was using my position to seek personal revenge. I was deliberately blocking the entire sales department's reimbursements, trying to drag down the company's performance. Those colleagues who had initially stayed neutral, or even exchanged polite nods with me, now looked at me differently. They began to deliberately avoid me. If they saw me in the hallway, they would turn down another corridor before we crossed paths. In the elevator, they would rather wait for the next one than share that small space with me. I was completely isolated. I became the "public enemy" of the entire company. A "petty," "low-EQ" villain who was affecting the company's lifeline over personal grievances. I still arrived at work on time every day, processing mountains of paperwork, turning a blind eye to the harassment and dirty looks. My silence, in their eyes, was seen as guilt, as stubborn resistance. Seeing that I still refused to "admit my mistakes," Jason finally lost his patience. That afternoon, I saw Jason and several of his core salespeople walk into the Branch Manager, Mr. Sterling's, office. I knew he was pulling out his ultimate move. 4 Half an hour later, the intercom rang, and a cold female voice came through. "Rachel, Mr. Sterling wants you in his office." I put down my pen, smoothed my clothes, and walked over. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, the atmosphere in the office was oppressive. Mr. Sterling sat behind his large executive desk, his brows furrowed tightly. Jason stood to the side, a barely detectable smugness in the corners of his eyes. Seeing me come in, he even threw me a look of sorrowful helplessness, putting on a full performance. "Rachel," Mr. Sterling's voice was heavy, carrying obvious anger. "What exactly is going on with you lately?" I didn't speak, waiting for him to continue. "Jason told me everything. Is it really just about approving an expense report? Did you really have to push things to this extreme?" "Right now, the sales team is full of complaints, and morale is at an all-time low." "Several key members have even told me they've lost their motivation and want to quit!" Mr. Sterling's fingers tapped loudly on the desk. "Do you know how much it costs to train a core salesperson?" "They are the heart of the company! They are the heroes who put food on all of our tables!" He paused, his tone growing even more severe. "Jason and his team are out there fighting tooth and nail for contracts. Do they really have to come back to the company and deal with your attitude just for a little team-building money?" "What do you think you're doing? You need to be more service-oriented! You can't be so rigid!" "Rules are dead, but people are alive! Do I really need to teach you this?" Every word was a dagger to the heart. I raised my eyes to look at Jason. The smugness on his face could no longer be hidden; the corners of his mouth turned up into the smirk of a victor. He looked at me, his eyes full of contempt and mockery, as if saying: See? You can't beat me. So, this company had rotted to its very core. "Heroes" could ignore the rules, and the "heart" could do whatever it wanted. He probably had no idea how much public funds had been embezzled, treated as "small costs" to maintain morale. My heart instantly went ice-cold, but my face remained completely impassive. I lowered my eyes, looking at my clean fingernails, and spoke calmly: "Understood, Mr. Sterling. I will be more mindful." No defense, no argument. Mr. Sterling seemed very satisfied with my "tact," his expression softening slightly, and he waved his hand. "Alright, you can go. I know you're very capable. Communicate well with Jason, and cooperate more in your future work." I nodded, turned, and opened the door. Outside, the sales department staff were "coincidentally" hovering nearby. The moment I stepped out, all eyes simultaneously shot toward me, like countless poison-tipped arrows. Jason and his team followed me out, unabashed, victorious smiles plastered on their faces. I could read that kind of look. It was the strong crushing the weak; it was the thrill of watching an overconfident ant being stomped underfoot. The very air in the entire office had changed, filled with suffocating mockery. I could feel those stares on my back, peeling my skin, pulling my bones. I walked back to my desk, step by step, and sat down. It was terrifyingly quiet; even the sound of typing had disappeared. Everyone seemed to be enjoying a pantomime, and I was the sole clown. I clenched the hands hidden under my desk, my fingernails digging deep into my palms, causing a sharp sting. 5 The news that I had backed down after being "lectured" sprouted wings and flew to every corner of the company overnight. The next day, the atmosphere in the office was incredibly eerie. No one dared to speak loudly, but countless gazes wove over me, filled with schadenfreude and scrutiny. Jason arrived right on time at 10:00 AM, stepping to the beat of a victor's drum. He was followed by the entire sales department, a massive entourage, like a triumphant army returning from battle, tightly surrounding my small cubicle. "Rachel." Jason's voice was loud, deliberately making sure everyone could hear. "You've thought through what Mr. Sterling said yesterday, right? Now, process my expense reports from last month." "Then, for your inappropriate behavior, apologize to the guys in our sales department." As soon as he finished speaking, his lackeys started jeering. Whistles and mocking laughter mixed together. Jason raised his hand to quiet them down, a magnanimous smile on his face, and stepped aside to clear a path. "Oh, right. I specifically invited Mr. Sterling over too." "Young people make mistakes, it's no big deal. Let the boss be a witness, so you don't relapse in the future." Mr. Sterling, his hands clasped behind his back, walked out from the back of the crowd and stood next to Jason. He looked at me, his eyes carrying the reprimand of a superior and a hint of impatience. He was clearly here to settle things, so this farce could end as quickly as possible. The air in the entire office solidified. Everyone stopped what they were doing, craning their necks, waiting for the moment I bowed my head in defeat. This was a public execution carefully orchestrated by Jason, designed to utterly trample my dignity underfoot. Under the watchful eyes of everyone, I didn't look at the expense report shoved back in front of my face, nor did I look at Jason's smug expression. I raised my head, my gaze bypassing him, and landed squarely on Mr. Sterling. Then, I smiled. "Mr. Sterling, since everyone is here, why don't we have a meeting?" My voice wasn't loud, but like a stone thrown into a dead pond, it sent clear ripples outward. Jason's smile froze on his face, and Mr. Sterling also frowned. Before they could react, I stood up and pulled open the bottom drawer of my desk. I took out a thick folder and a compact black voice recorder. I walked to the door of the conference room, pushed open the glass door, looked back at the crowd, and said: "Please." Everyone exchanged confused glances, but eventually, led by Mr. Sterling, they filed in. Jason and his crew brought up the rear. He stared at the things in my hand, a certain unease appearing in his eyes for the very first time. I walked to the head of the conference table and expertly connected my laptop to the projector. The folder and the voice recorder were placed right next to my hand. "Since this is about reimbursement issues, let's start with reimbursements." I clicked open the first file, and a massive spreadsheet was projected onto the screen. On the left were scanned copies of all the expense receipts submitted by Jason over the past six months. And on the right were the actual consumption records I had verified line by line. "First entry: December 3rd of last year. Jason requested a reimbursement for client entertainment, amounting to $8,600. The invoice was issued by 'The Ritz-Carlton'." I pointed a laser pointer at the entry on the screen, my voice steady. "But interestingly enough, at 7:30 PM that evening, Tyler from Jason's team posted a set of photos from a karaoke lounge on social media, with the caption 'Partying with the bros'." "The location tagged was 'Royal Club' on the west side of town." "In the photos, everyone from the sales department is present, but the 'important clients' you mentioned are conspicuously absent." On the screen, right next to the invoice photo, that high-definition social media screenshot suddenly appeared. Face after young face, flushed red under the dim lights, the table piled high with imported liquor and fruit platters. Jason's face changed color. His subordinates began to shift uneasily in their seats, whispering amongst themselves. 6 I didn't pause, continuing to scroll down. "Second entry: January 19th. The reason for reimbursement: 'Maintaining key client relations.' Amount: $12,000." "The invoice shows you spent this at a high-end luxury spa." "But I checked the company's access control records and the garage security footage. That afternoon, Jason, you and several core members of your team had no record of ever leaving the building." "Third entry: February 14th. Valentine's Day. Reimbursement for $5,200, under the category of 'Emergency PR Expenses'." "This receipt from a jewelry store in the attachments... I specifically called to verify it. The purchase was a women's platinum necklace." "I wonder which client required 'Emergency PR' that necessitated Jason personally going out to pick a Valentine's Day gift?" Case by case, item by item. The evidence was irrefutable, fully documented with photos and text. In the entire conference room, apart from my voice, there was no other sound. The color slowly drained from the faces of the sales department staff; sweat began to bead on their foreheads. Jason finally couldn't hold it in any longer. He stood up abruptly, pointed at me, and yelled: "Rachel! What is the meaning of this? What gives you the right to investigate my private life? This is all just chasing shadows!" "Chasing shadows?" I looked at him and pressed the play button on the voice recorder. Immediately, my own voice came through the conference room speakers. "Jason, the twenty-odd thousand dollars I fronted before..." Following closely was Jason's familiar, arrogant tone, amplified by the speakers, sounding exceptionally harsh in the quiet room. "It's just a few thousand bucks. Do you really have to chase me for it every single day?" "One of my contracts is worth millions. Do I look like I'm short on your little bit of money?" The suppressed, mocking laughter of his subordinates echoed around him. The recording continued. The scene shifted, the background a bit noisy. "...Just do as I say. Make the invoice out to our partner, 'Apex Tech'." "Write whatever you want for the description—office supplies, technical services, whatever. Keep the amount under five grand, and submit them in batches." "That new girl, Rachel, might be a rigid pain in the ass, but she wouldn't dare reject them..." This was an audio recording of Jason instructing his subordinates on how to falsify accounts. It was probably sent in their team's private group chat and forwarded to me by someone. The recording finished playing. The conference room was deathly silent. Jason's face had gone from flushed red to a deep, sickly purple. He opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a single word. His lackeys were all ashen-faced, wishing they could sink into the floor right then and there. Mr. Sterling's face was so dark it looked like a thundercloud. He stared fixedly at Jason, his gaze like a knife. "Jason, what else do you have to say for yourself?" "I... Mr. Sterling, I..." Jason's voice trembled. "I did this for the team... to motivate everyone..." "Motivate?" I let out a cold laugh and projected the final document onto the screen. "I wonder if Jason's 'motivation' also includes using company funds to poach the company's own talent?" Appearing on the screen was a detailed corporate investigation report. "'Vanguard Trading LLC', registered just last month. Registered capital: $500,000." "The legal representative is named Derek." I paused, my gaze sweeping over Jason's pale face. "As far as I know, that's your cousin's name, isn't it?" "The most crucial point is that this company's business scope—its core business operations—is almost exactly identical to the new product line our company is launching next month." "And the capital used to register this company is less than a thousand dollars short of the total amount you've falsely claimed and embezzled over the past six months." 7 I turned off the projector, and the conference room was bright again. I looked at Jason, who had collapsed into his chair, and articulated every word clearly: "Jason, this isn't just corruption. This constitutes corporate espionage." "You used our company's resources and public funds to fatten up your own team." "And now, you were preparing to use this money to set up a new company to steal our business. Am I right?" A fatal blow. The entire room was in an uproar. Mr. Sterling's body shook with anger. He pointed at Jason, his lips trembling, unable to form a complete sentence for a long time. Jason's face instantly went as white as a sheet of paper. His younger subordinates, who hadn't been with the company long, also lost all color in their faces. They looked at him in terror, as if seeing this boss they had sworn loyalty to for the very first time. The entire office was dead silent, save for the projector's cooling fan dutifully whirring away, a monotonous hum. It sounded like it was playing the final dirge for this farce. Jason suddenly sprang up from his chair, like a cornered beast, his bloodshot eyes glaring at me fiercely. That face, usually slick with overconfidence, was now twisted beyond recognition. "Forged evidence! This is illegal wiretapping!" He pointed his finger at me, his voice a hoarse roar, spittle flying across the conference table. "Rachel, who the hell do you think you are? What gives you the right to investigate me?!" He looked around at his subordinates, who were equally ashen-faced, trying to make one last desperate struggle. "You all saw it! This woman has had it out for us since day one!" "She just wants to ruin our sales department, to ruin the whole company!" His hysterical accusations were like a shot of adrenaline injected into the bodies of his die-hard followers. "Yeah! We bust our asses out there running sales! Why should we let an accountant screw us over like this!" "She's just out for personal revenge!" "Mr. Sterling, you have to stand up for us!" Several people stood up along with him, shouting with false bravado. The previously frozen air became agitated again. Chaos rapidly fermented in the conference room, and the situation looked like it was about to spiral out of control. Just then, the heavy doors of the conference room were pushed open silently. A middle-aged man in a dark suit, his hair combed impeccably, walked in. He looked to be in his fifties, exuding a calm demeanor, but his eyes were sharp. Wherever his gaze swept, the clamor instantly died down. Everyone fell silent, including Jason. He stood with his mouth open, the slogan "ruin the company" still stuck in his throat. The man walked over to the conference table, his gaze falling on Jason's trembling finger. He spoke slowly, his voice not loud, but it struck everyone's heart like a heavy hammer. "What gives her the right?" He repeated Jason's question, his tone flat, yet carrying an unquestionable authority. "I gave her the right." The man's gaze turned to me. He gave a slight nod, then his eyes landed on the already petrified Mr. Sterling. "Sterling, it seems there are massive problems with your management of the branch office." "Rachel is an inspector I dispatched from headquarters, specifically responsible for auditing the financial and HR operations of the branch." He paused, his gaze shooting toward Jason like cold lightning. "It looks like the audit results are quite spectacular." "A star salesman, using company funds to wine, dine, and line his own pockets, even preparing to set up his own shop and hollow out the company." "A branch manager, turning a blind eye to this, enabling corruption, and failing to manage his team." The man's voice grew cold, every word like a shard of ice. "Jason, you are suspected of corporate embezzlement and theft of commercial secrets. The company will immediately report this to the police. You can explain the rest to them." "As for you, Sterling," He looked at the pale-faced Mr. Sterling. "As of right now, you are fired."
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