To crush our New Year's sales targets, the three of us—the dealership's top sales champions—had cleared out the entire 4S showroom inventory.

We expected the promised cash grand prize. Instead, the boss handed that bonus to an intern who'd been here all of five days. As for us? He tossed over supermarket vouchers printed with "$500 off a $50 spend."

"It's the holidays. Your commissions are high enough already." The boss's tone dripped with condescension. "People shouldn't be too greedy. Take these vouchers, buy some rice and cooking oil, and go home for the New Year."

The meeting ended.

Simon, our top closer, crumpled the voucher and tossed it into the trash can in a perfect arc. Along with it went dozens of purchase intent forms from corporate and government clients he'd been nurturing for months.

Evelyn, the gold-medal salesperson, immediately messaged several luxury car clubs. From now on, for any after-sales maintenance, not a single one of their cars should come to this dealership.

I silently took out my phone and dialed the Group Chairman.

"Grandpa, revoke the franchise rights for this branch. I think the manager here has a defective brain. Consider it my New Year's gift."

Burning bridges after crossing the river? Common enough. But slaughtering the hen that lays golden eggs right before the New Year, just to stew it for soup?

That was a new one.

——

"Elena, I can't take this money. It was earned through the hard work of you seniors. I'm just a newcomer—I don't deserve it."

The intern, Hudson Pruitt, pushed the box of cash toward me, eyes wide with feigned sincerity.

"How about... you all take this money? Consider it a token of respect for my elders."

His voice wasn't loud, but it was pitched perfectly for Manager Whitney to hear from nearby.

Whitney's frown deepened. He stomped over, snatched the box, and forcibly stuffed it back into Hudson's arms.

"Hudson! Take it! This is what you deserve!"

A heavy hand clapped Hudson's shoulder. Then Whitney turned to us, contempt etched into every line of his face.

"The new media strategies Hudson brought in have revitalized our store's publicity. *That* is what keeping up with the times looks like!" His lip curled. "Unlike certain old people—dead weight occupying space, relying on seniority, and endlessly greedy!"

Old Simon looked ready to explode.

But Hudson immediately stepped in front of Whitney, spreading his arms protectively. He looked at Simon with a wronged, puppy-dog expression.

"Uncle Simon, don't blame the manager. The market is tough this year. These vouchers are a personal gesture from the manager's own pocket to help subsidize us." A theatrical sigh. "Everyone is struggling. Please try to understand the manager's position."

What a masterclass in emotional manipulation.

"What? You think it's too little?" Whitney slammed his palm on the table, spittle flying. "I've given you face, haven't I? If you don't want to work, then get out! There are plenty of people lining up for jobs right now!"

Colleagues who usually couldn't hold their heads up around us—crushed beneath our performance figures—now wore gloating expressions.

Evelyn and I exchanged a look and silently returned to our stations.

When Hudson passed by, he deliberately lagged half a step behind. In a voice only I could hear, he whispered.

"Elena, don't look down on it."

His gaze dropped to the commuter bag I'd carried for three years. His lips curled into a smug smirk.

"How about I lend you a little from this $300,000? You could buy a new bag. After all, yours is almost worn through."

I stopped.

Turned my head.

Looked at his petty, arrogant face.

A scoff escaped me.

"No need."

"Keep your money to treat that two-faced personality disorder of yours."

Hudson's expression shifted instantly.

The next second, his volume shot up, eyes turning red on command.

"Elena! How can you... how can you curse at me? I... I truly just wanted to help you..."

"What is going on here!"

Whitney heard the commotion and came running over, rage already boiling.

"Elena Henson! What are you doing now?"

A finger jabbed directly at my nose. He didn't bother to ask for the truth.

"Hudson is kindly showing concern for you, and you bully him? A newcomer, here for only a few days, and you're already ostracizing him? How can you be so heartless?"

I stared at him.

Speechless.

I couldn't be bothered to explain.

Whitney's cursing grew more energetic until he finally waved his hand dismissively.

"I think the three of you just had a few good months and let it get to your heads! You're too idle!"

"Starting today, move your workstations to the warehouse in the back! When you've reflected enough, you can come out!"

Banishing three sales champions to work in the warehouse?

If our biggest competitor heard about this move, they'd send a thank-you banner overnight.

Old Simon and Evelyn trembled with rage, but I stopped them with a sharp look.

We silently packed our belongings. Our colleagues avoided us like the plague, terrified of being associated with the fallen champions.

Hudson Pruitt leisurely sat down at my original workstation. The prime spot—facing the entrance with the best view of the floor.

As we moved boxes, my phone buzzed.

Hudson had posted a WeChat Moment visible only to me.

The photo showed him sitting at my desk, legs crossed, with the box containing the $300,000 cash bonus displayed prominently in front of him.

The caption read: *Some positions can't be held just by grinding seniority. [Snickering Emoji]*

I looked at the post.

Sneered.

Casually took a screenshot.

I ignored Hudson's provocation, but that only emboldened him.

Early the next morning, he carried two cups of coffee and sidled up to Whitney.

"Manager, I think the seniors' client maintenance methods are outdated. They don't understand the psychology of young people today."

"I want to use my own methods to manage those VIP customers and bring them a brand-new experience."

Whitney beamed, completely charmed. He made the call immediately.

"Good! You've got ideas! That's how it should be!"

A wave of his hand, and he convened a morning meeting. In front of the entire staff, he forced Evelyn, Old Simon, and me to hand over all our VIP client data to Hudson.

Evelyn's face darkened instantly.

"What?" Old Simon sprang up from his chair. "Whitney, are you crazy? We won those customers one by one. Why should we hand them over to him?"

Whitney's eyes bulged. "Because I am the manager! This is an order! If you don't do it, get out!"

"Manager, this violates protocol." I stood up. "Client information is a salesperson's core asset. How can you demand we hand it over just because someone asked?"

"What I say *is* the rule!" His roar echoed through the showroom. "Elena Henson, if you talk back one more time, believe me, I'll have you thrown out today!"

Hudson stood by the side, hypocritically smoothing things over.

"Elena, Uncle Simon, don't misunderstand. I'm not trying to steal your customers. I just want to learn and help share the workload."

He took the thick stack of files we handed over and bowed ninety degrees in front of everyone.

"Thank you, Uncle Simon and my big sisters, for your guidance. I will study hard!"

His humble act drew another round of praise from Whitney.

The moment he returned to his desk, however, he posted a photo in the sales department's private group chat.

It was a page from our client files—detailing a customer's family situation, hobbies, and even the brand of food their dog preferred.

*Hudson: My god, are client notes this tacky nowadays? It's like a police interrogation. No wonder you can't keep people loyal. [Facepalm]*

The sycophants who loved to flatter the flavor of the month immediately chimed in.

*Colleague A: Exactly, exactly. Too old-fashioned.*

*Colleague B: Hudson's thinking is trendy—this is sales in the internet era!*

Evelyn nearly smashed her phone.

I pressed my hand over hers and shook my head.

"Don't rush. Let him dig his own grave."

"The higher he climbs, the harder he falls."

Hudson quickly selected a target from the pile of client files.

The city's famous Ice Queen—Hailey James.

Hailey was notoriously picky, sharp-eyed, and detested frivolous men. Recognized as one of the hardest clients to win over. Evelyn had spent a full six months building a rapport just to establish initial trust.

Hudson evidently thought his charm was irresistible.

The very afternoon he got the files, he secretly messaged Hailey James, asking her out that night to "have a drink and talk about life."

Even more outrageous? The venue he chose wasn't a high-end club, but a cheap, tacky bar that had recently gone viral on TikTok.

That evening, before we even clocked out, the store's complaint line rang.

Hailey James's assistant. Her voice was pure ice.

"Does your dealership now recruit gigolos?"

"What kind of lowlife dares to ask Ms. James out like that?"

"Tell your Manager Whitney: our Group's procurement plan for this year will permanently blacklist your store!"

The call ended.

The showroom fell into a deathly silence.

Not long after, Hudson came running back in a sorry state.

A bright red handprint marred his face. Red wine stained his white shirt. His hair was a bird's nest.

Before anyone could speak, he let out a wail. With reddened eyes, he threw himself at Whitney, who had rushed over upon hearing the news.

"Manager! You have to stand up for me!"

A shaking finger pointed at me. His voice trembled with accusation.

"It was Elena! The information she gave me was wrong! She deliberately left out the client's taboos—she wanted to see me make a fool of myself!"

"She's jealous of me! She wants to ruin me!"

Whitney whipped his head around, glaring at me with venom.

"Elena Henson! You! How can you be so vicious?"

"Hudson is practically a child! How could you set him up like this? Have you no conscience at all?"

I was so angry I laughed.

I pulled the original document from the handover folder and slammed it onto the table.

"Manager Whitney, open your eyes and look."

"The client handover form is in duplicate. On my copy, the notes regarding Hailey James are written clearly in black and white."

I pointed to the bolded line and read it aloud, emphasizing every word.

"**Values privacy, dislikes male company, and is disgusted by informal or flirtatious approaches.**"

"So." My voice dropped. "Is it that someone is blind and didn't see it?"

"Or did he think his male charm was powerful enough to ignore the rules?"

Hudson's face went pale. Seeing the evidence against him, he immediately pivoted.

He covered his face with his hands.

"Anyway... anyway, the customer is angry now! The deal is dead! Elena, you're happy now, right? You're satisfied?"

Whitney was completely irrational. He pointed at the three of us.

"The customer was handed over by you, so you share the responsibility!"

"Since you can't tolerate a newcomer, go clean the exterior glass of the showroom!"

"You don't stop until it's spotless and Hailey James's anger has subsided!"

Evelyn wanted to charge forward and argue, but Old Simon held her back.

The three of us, holding rags and buckets, were driven out into the pouring rain.