The $25 Bonus: My Promotion to the Client's Director Chapter 2

My phone didn't even stay quiet for five minutes before it buzzed again.

This time it was an Instagram audio call. The caller ID showed Amber—the subordinate who had stolen my "Employee of the Year" award.

I hit decline.

Thirty seconds later, Instagram DMs started popping up, one after another.

"Hey girl, why aren't you answering?"

"Mr. Vance is SO mad. Please text him back."

"You're usually so reliable! Why are you acting so reckless all of a sudden? Don't put Mr. Vance in a difficult position."

I stared at the messages, my heart completely steady.

Amber Hayes. Employed for three years.

I was the one who trained her by hand when she came in as a clueless intern.

I taught her how to negotiate with clients, how to cover for the team when a project hit a snag.

And her thanks was stealing my credit and my bonus.

My phone buzzed again. Another long paragraph. She was getting anxious because I was leaving her on read:

"Look, I know you're upset about the bonus, but you can't blame the company for that."

"The economy is bad right now. We're all struggling. Mr. Vance actually really values you. If you just up and quit over a little bit of money, think about how bad that will look on your reputation. Plus, the company spent years training you. Can your conscience really handle just walking away like this?"

Conscience.

I stared at the word, finding it hilariously ironic.

I typed my reply: "Who copied all my private client files while I was out getting a root canal? Who took my creative pitches, slapped a new font on them, and presented them to the board as her own? Who bought bubble tea for the entire department before the peer reviews but intentionally left me out?"

"You are the very last person on earth who gets to talk to me about a conscience."

Less than three minutes after I sent that, she replied. This time, her tone was dripping with condescending pity.

"What is the point of bringing all that up? If you keep throwing a tantrum, you're the only one who's going to suffer. Where do you think you can go if you leave us? Do you know how many people with Master's degrees are unemployed right now? You only have a Bachelor's, you're 30 and single, and every decent metric on your resume is only there because of the company's resources."

"Brenda already said it. If you don't come back right now, Mr. Vance is going to put the word out, and nobody in this industry will ever hire you."

I sneered at my screen. She was actually trying to threaten me!

The phone buzzed again: "Hello?? Say something! We're all waiting for you."

I opened the chat and sent a single emoji:

A slightly smiling, passive-aggressive smiley face.

Then, I blocked her account, put my phone down, and went to wash my face.

Today, I was officially joining Apex Group—the client from the $2 million project.

The CEO of Apex Group was David Sterling. We had worked closely together during the project, and he was a straightforward, no-nonsense leader.

Before the holidays, right after I got stabbed in the back by my company, Mr. Sterling had sent me an Instagram DM: "Chloe, my company is in desperate need of talent like yours. You're wasting your potential over there. You name your salary. If you're interested, reach out to me anytime."

I dried my face and looked at myself in the bathroom mirror.

This year, I was going to live differently.