"You guys know what the situation is like in this industry this year. I need to cut our end-of-the-year bonus by half in order to overcome this difficult period."

My boss, Peter Hurley, claims that things are difficult in the industry right now, yet his wrist still showcases the luxury watch that he's just bought.

My 20,000-dollar bonus is reduced to 700 dollars. In addition, I also received a plaque that says "Award for Outstanding Contribution".

"This plaque is worth a lot, Soren. It represents the acknowledgement this company has for you. Don't be so petty when it comes to money."

As I stare at the plaque in my hand, I can't help but scoff furiously.

"Fine. I won't be that petty when it comes to money. I hope you won't be that petty either when you're paying next month's rent."

Peter is stunned momentarily.

"What do you mean by that?"

I toss the plaque into the trash can.

"What I mean is, I'm the landlord of this building. From next month onward, the rent will be increased ten times. If you refuse to accept the new rent, you can pack up and scram."

In the meeting room, my boss, Peter Hurley, spoke with a pained tone and a deep frown. "We hope everyone can be understanding and support the company during these challenging times."

If it weren't for the luxury watch on his wrist, I might have believed him. The green of the watch face was so bright that it hurt my eyes.

He had just bought it last week, and its market price was valued at over a hundred grand.

That was what Peter meant by challenging times?

I sat on the left side of the conference table, twirling a pen in my hand until it grew warm.

I was the company's top sales performer this year.

This year, I had generated 30 million dollars in revenue for the company, with a net profit of at least eight million.

According to my employment contract, my year-end commission plus bonus should have amounted to 20,000 dollars.

I had already planned how to use that money.

Dad had been pressuring me to go back for a blind date. I needed to buy a couple of bottles of fine wine to shut him up, as well as use the money to show him what I had achieved from the past few years of me "experiencing life".

Peter's tone shifted, and a smile spread across his face. "Although times are tough, the company won't shortchange those who've contributed greatly."

With a wave of his hand, someone from the administrative department walked in carrying a stack of envelopes.

"Soren, you're this year's top performer. You first."

Peter handed me an envelope, then pulled a clothed item from under the table.

I took the envelope and rubbed it between my fingers. Without opening it, I could already tell from feeling the thinness of the stack. It only contained 700 dollars.

My 20,000-dollar commission had turned into 700 dollars—reduced by a whole 96.5%.

I said nothing and simply stared at Peter.

He grew uncomfortable under my gaze and immediately unveiled the clothed item in his hand.

With a whoosh, the cloth was pulled back, revealing a plaque.

Complete with engravings and made of wood, it had several large characters embossed on it—Award for Outstanding Contribution.

"Soren Neal! This plaque holds immense value!" Peter said loudly. "It represents the company's highest recognition of you! It's an honor!

"Don't focus too much on money. Money is something you can't take with you when you die."

Applause broke out, and a few of his sycophants started cheering.

I looked at the plaque, then at the envelope in my hand.

Feeling frustrated, I laughed.

I came to work at this crappy company to get some peace and quiet, as well as to help my family check out the end-market for medical equipment.

I didn't need the money. But that didn't mean I was an idiot.

I had worked diligently for a whole year, even using some of my family's connections to land deals.

And he thought he could brush me off with this piece of junk?

"Mr. Hurley." I stood up and tossed the envelope onto the table. "You can keep the money for a massage visit.

"When will my 20,000-dollar commission be paid?"

The meeting room fell silent instantly.

The people who had been clapping a moment ago froze, their hands in mid-air. They glanced at each other awkwardly.

Peter's expression instantly darkened, and the smile froze on his face.

"Soren, what do you mean by that?" He slammed the plaque heavily onto the table.

"The company is going through such tough times. As a senior employee and the top performer, not only do you fail to show any consideration for the company, but you also make a scene at the annual meeting?"

"Tough times?" I pointed at his wrist. "Mr. Hurley, did you buy this watch to help you weather the tough times too?"

Peter instinctively retracted his hand, then grew furious with embarrassment. "That's my personal money! What does it have to do with you?"

"That's your business. Meanwhile, my commission is written in black and white in the contract. It's the money you owe me."

I looked at him coldly. "The contract stipulates that settlement will be made at the end of the year. Are you trying to renege?"

Peter stood up abruptly and pointed at me. "Soren! Watch your tone!

"What contract? The company has the final say on this! I decide how much gets paid out!"

He began to act shamelessly, saying, "Besides, didn't it cost the company to train you? The computer you use, the electricity, the opportunities—didn't the company provide all those? Without the company, you're nothing!

"This plaque is proof that we acknowledge your contributions. It's to motivate you to keep working hard next year! But look at you, chasing after money instead!"

Peter grew increasingly agitated. "20,000 dollars? Why don't you take a long look in the mirror and see if you're worth that much! Someone as money-hungry as you doesn't deserve to be in this industry!"

The colleagues around me began to whisper.

"Soren is being so unreasonable. Mr. Hurley is really angry."

"Exactly. 700 dollars isn't that bad. I only got 200."

"Talking back to the boss at a time like this is just asking for trouble."

The loudest voice belonged to Curtis Warner, who usually ranked last in performance but was best at sucking up to Peter.

He stood up and gave Peter a respectful, apologetic nod, practically radiating subservience. Then, he turned to accuse me. "Soren, you're the one in the wrong here. Mr. Hurley usually treats us so well. How can you be so ungrateful?

"Think bigger! You've got to have some perspective! Is it worth falling out with the company over this small amount?"

Perspective? I had hundreds of properties in Northspire, but he was telling me to think bigger?

I was just taking back what I had earned, yet that made me narrow-minded?

"Fine, then. You're all so noble indeed."

I nodded and swept my gaze across the room. "So, you're not planning to pay me the money, is that it?"

Peter snorted coldly, sat back in his chair, and crossed his legs. "No. Stay if you want and leave if you don't.

"Let me tell you this, Soren—if you walk out that door today, I'll blacklist you in the industry. I'll let everyone know you're a backstabbing, money-hungry ingrate with zero ethics! Let's see who dares hire you after this!"

He wanted to blacklist me? No one in all of Northspire dared to say that.

I took a deep breath, suppressing my anger. Making a big deal now was a crude way of handling things. I preferred to play things a different way.

"Alright." I smiled. "Since Mr. Hurley has put it so bluntly, I give up."

I picked up the plaque from the table.

The corner of Peter's mouth lifted. He thought I had given in. "That's more like it. Young people need to learn patience—"

Before he could finish, I turned and walked to the trash bin by the meeting room door.

I let go, and the plaque fell in with a dull thud.

The "highly valuable" plaque fell into the trash bin, which had already been filled with waste paper and food wrappers.

The plaque was too long, so half of it was sticking out of the bin.

"You!" Peter's eyes widened. "Soren! How dare you throw away the company's honor?"

"Honor?" I dusted off my hands. "I wouldn't even display this thing in my toilet—it's too trashy.

"Since you gave it to me, it's mine, and I can do whatever I want with it."

I turned to look at Peter, my expression calm. "Peter, remember what you said today. You said I don't deserve the commission, and that I'm a money-hungry nobody.

"I hope you won't come begging to this nobody later."

Peter was shaking with anger. He grabbed his cup from the table, wanting to smash it, but he couldn't bear to part with his favorite cup. So, he forcibly held back.

"Get out! Get the hell out right now!"

"Finance! Settle his wages, then kick him out!"

"I'd better not see you in this industry ever again!"

Beside him, Curtis flamed the fans. "Where's security? Call them over! Don't let him steal anything from the company!"

I ignored them. I just went straight back to my workstation and quickly packed up my personal belongings.

There wasn't much to pack, really. It was just a cup and a few books.

As for the client files? They were all in my head.

Besides, these clients recognized me, not this crappy company.

I walked out while carrying a cardboard box.

As I passed by the reception desk, the receptionist, Lily Turner, looked at me sympathetically.

"Soren, are you really leaving?" she asked.

"Yeah, I am."

I smiled at her. "This place has bad vibes. You'll go broke if you stay too long."

Behind me came the sound of Peter roaring in the meeting room. He was still cursing up a storm.

I walked to the elevator and looked back at the office. This floor was about 10,000 square feet, and it was in a good location, right in the heart of the CBD.

Back then, Peter insisted on renting this place purely to show off. The rent here wasn't cheap.

I pressed the down button on the elevator. The elevator doors slowly closed, cutting off the noise.

I took out my phone and dialed a contact saved as "Gary".

Gary Rhodes was the property manager of this office building.

"Hello, Mr. Neal? How may I assist you?" Gary asked respectfully.

"Tomorrow morning, bring the lease contract for this floor to the lobby and wait for me."

"Understood, Mr. Neal. Are there some changes happening?"

As I looked at my somewhat tired face in the elevator mirror, I smirked lightly. "A big change."

I, too, wanted to see for myself just how much "perspective" Peter really had.

…

The next day, at ten in the morning, I woke up late and stretched. Even the air seemed fresher to me.

After washing up, I put on a T-shirt, slipped into flip-flops, and hung a bunch of keys from my waist.

I hailed a cab and headed straight to the company—no, wait—straight to my building.

When I arrived at the lobby, Gary, dressed in a suit, was already waiting there with two security guards.

At the sight of me, not only did he show no contempt, but he even lowered his head in greeting.

"Mr. Neal, you've arrived."

"Did you bring the contract?" I asked.

"Yes, everything is here." Gary handed over a folder.

I flipped through it. The lease term was due to expire next month, and it was initially set to renew automatically.

"Let's go. Time to collect the rent."

I shook the keys at my waist, making a metallic jangling sound.

The elevator went straight to the 18th floor.