My probation ended. I got fired.

The bank had no open positions this year, so an intern who'd just been told to leave stormed straight into President Fox's office.

She claimed I'd been sitting on my position to line my own pockets, skimming fifty thousand in gift cards every month—the ones purchasing set aside for clients.

I didn't even bother looking up at her. "I have deposits here. That makes me a client too. Those gifts were mine to begin with."

She sized me up, lip curling. "You, a client? You've got what, a few thousand to your name? And you think that entitles you to fifty grand a month in gift cards? You think this bank is your personal ATM?"

I looked at her—swaggering, shameless—and at Nelson, sitting there in silence. I smiled, stood up, and packed my things.

She wanted this job so badly? Fine. She could have it.

Only she got one thing wrong. The bank wasn't my ATM.

Of the bank's two hundred and thirty million in annual deposits, two hundred million were mine.

*I* was the bank's ATM.

……

I clocked out right on time, tucking this month's fifty-thousand-dollar batch of gift cards into my pocket.

That's when the president's office erupted.

Every colleague who loved a good show crowded toward the door.

I had zero interest in the drama. I grabbed my best friend and headed for the restaurant—figured we'd blow through the fifty grand over dinner.

I'd barely stood up when I heard my name ripping through Virginia Austin's shouting.

"From what I know, Tracey Butler didn't even take the entrance exam before they let her in! She sits at her desk every single day doing absolutely nothing. Fine, she collects a paycheck for free!"

"But in just the three months I've been interning here, I've watched her go to purchasing every single month and walk out with gift cards. Why should someone like her take up a spot at this bank?!"

I pushed through the crowd of colleagues, walked into the office, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

Watched her go off.

Virginia's face was flushed crimson. She lunged at me, hands clawing wildly across my clothes, desperate to dig out proof.

It didn't take long. Her fingers found the stiff edges of the cards.

She grinned, yanked them out, and slapped them down on the desk.

"President Fox, didn't I tell you? Right here. Evidence!"

"Ten thousand a month she makes, late every morning, out the door every afternoon, never on the counter, never drumming up business—just hiding away in her own private office drinking coffee and playing on her phone."

"And she's still not satisfied! Gift cards, client gifts, she stuffs them into her pockets one by one!"

I'd heard enough. I reached over and pinched the gift cards off the desk between two fingers.

"These were given to me by the bank. I have deposits here. I'm a client. These are mine."

Virginia burst out laughing like I'd just told the funniest joke she'd ever heard, looking me over head to toe.

"You? A *client*? Look at yourself—you've got a couple thousand sitting in there and now you're some premium client?"

"Oh please. You're screwing the purchasing manager, and the two of you are treating this bank like a cash machine!"

I'd always kept a low profile at the bank.

Hair pinned up, standard-issue uniform, same as everyone else.

Apart from Nelson Fox and Greg Lambert, the purchasing manager who handled client relations, nobody knew how much I actually had on deposit.

Whispers rustled at the doorway. It wasn't hard to notice the way my colleagues were looking at me now.

"No wonder Manager Lambert's always so attentive to her, running to her office every other day. Turns out he's been spending the bank's money to keep his little girlfriend happy."

"And the bank gave her a private office. Turned into their little hookup spot, didn't it."

"Ten thousand a month plus the year-end bonus isn't enough for her? I'd be thanking my lucky stars. She even has the nerve to take gifts meant for top clients. Over a year, that's got to be close to a million, easy!"

Watching her coworkers turn on Tracey one by one, Virginia drew herself up, riding the momentum.

"President Fox, we may be a private bank pulling in two hundred and thirty million a year in deposits alone, but we can't afford someone bleeding us dry like Tracey has."

"Instead of keeping a parasite on staff, why not cut her loose and bring me on full-time?"

"Six thousand a month—I can develop business, maintain clients, do everything out in the open. And I won't be stealing while I'm at it."

"Don't talk nonsense! Tracey and I aren't like that. She's actually—"

"Enough!"

Greg stepped forward to explain, but Nelson cut him off before he could finish.

He'd been silent this entire time. Now he looked at me and let out a quiet sigh.

"Tracey, hand off whatever you're working on."

He was telling me to go.

I smiled and stood up without a word.

Honestly, none of this surprised me.

He'd sat there the whole time Virginia was smearing my name and hadn't said a single thing to stop her.

What was that, if not approval?

"Fine. I'll get my things."

At the doorway, my coworkers parted for me like I was contagious.

I didn't have much to pack.

Virginia was right about one thing: most days I just sat in my office drinking coffee and scrolling my phone.

What she didn't know was that Nelson had begged me to come work here in the first place.

I rinsed my coffee mug, packed the espresso machine into a cardboard box, unplugged my charging cable from the desk, and dropped it into my bag.

That was everything.

Virginia didn't bother knocking. She strolled right into my office like she owned it.

The look on her face—pure petty triumph.

"Nobody ever teach you to knock before walking into someone's office?"

I was taping up the box. Didn't even look up.

Virginia sneered. "You don't get to lecture me. The bank just swept you out the door—what exactly do you have to be proud of?"

"This office is mine now!"

She dropped into my chair, and her eyes lit up.

"Wow, you really did help yourself. This chair's nicer than the one in President Fox's office. Looks like hand-stitched leather."

That actually reminded me. I'd bought that chair with my own money.

"Get up."

"Make me. You skimmed enough cash—be grateful the president didn't send you straight to jail. And now you want to walk off with the furniture too?"

I stared straight into her smug, clueless face and let my voice go cold.

"I paid for that chair myself."

When she didn't move, I closed my hand around her wrist and pressed down, keeping my expression perfectly still.

That startled her enough to stand, eyes wide.

Her mouth, though, kept going.

"Paid for it with money you stole from the bank! I've never met a woman as shameless as you!"

I'd lost count of how many times she'd called me a thief today. Even my patience had a limit, and she'd found it.

"Stealing?"

"Virginia, you were told on your very first day as an intern that there were no open positions. No path to a full-time offer."

"You threw dirt on me and tried to force me out just so you could stay. Tell me—who's greedier?"

I grabbed my things and brushed past her shoulder toward the door.

A hand caught my collar from behind and yanked me back.

She blocked my path.

"Leave the money and then you can take your junk and get out!"

I looked her dead in the eyes.

"The gift card is in President Fox's office. I didn't take it."

Virginia let out a cold laugh.

"I'm not talking about that one card. Every gift card, every gift you've taken since the day you set foot in this bank—you're giving back all of it. Every last cent."

The others ate it up—Virginia's little power trip had them nodding along, thumbs-up behind my back.

I was silent for a few seconds.

Everyone watched me clench my jaw and figured I was about to lunge at her.

After all, in their minds, a nobody like me who'd never had real money must have spent it all long ago. No way I could pay anything back.

But I pulled out my phone, unhurried, and transferred three million to the bank's account.

Didn't even blink.

I held up the payment screenshot. "Three years at this bank. The gifts never hit eight hundred thousand in any single year. That's three million. Is that enough, or do you need more?"

I didn't wait around for their shock.

I didn't turn around for Virginia's screaming behind me that I must have embezzled bank funds.

I slowed as I passed Nelson Fox's office, my eyes catching the nameplate on the wall—President's Office. Three years ago his bank had barely any business. It was on the verge of collapse.

Now it was the largest private bank in the city, and I was the one who'd put him there.

"President Fox, Tracey is our biggest client. Out of the bank's two hundred and thirty million in deposits, she alone accounts for two hundred million!"

"You're letting her walk out? You're burning that bridge on purpose?"

I was about to move on when I heard Manager Lambert's exasperated challenge.

Nelson's answer was nothing but impatience.

"All she does is keep her money in our bank. She didn't hand it to me."

"I pay her two million a year in interest!"

"And the gifts your purchasing department sends her every year are worth close to a million. Whose money do you think that is? It's mine."

Greg let out a heavy sigh.

"President Fox, that's not how the math works. The bank's entire operation runs on Tracey's two hundred million. Without her there's no way we turn a profit. If she—"

"There is no 'if'!"

Nelson slammed his palm on the desk.

"She makes her living off that interest every year. When you get right down to it, she owes everything she has to me!"

I rubbed my fingertips together, and the only thing I could manage was a quiet laugh at how pathetic he sounded.

He actually believed he mattered that much.

Believed I survived on the interest from two hundred million, and was fool enough to think I had nowhere else to put it. His rate was the lowest in the city. Any other bank would have paid me three million a year minimum.

But we'd been classmates once, so I'd never bothered to fight him over it.

And all this time he'd convinced himself he was getting the raw deal—that I was the one feeding off him.

Greg was kicked out of the office.

He came through the door looking defeated, then froze when he saw me standing right there.

I gave him a nod.

"Come with me. Stay here working under someone like him, and it won't end well for you."

Greg had more sense in his little finger than Nelson had altogether. He handed in his resignation without a second's hesitation.

"I didn't drive today. Give me a ride?"

He took my box and followed me out.

Virginia came chasing after us, and the second she saw Greg at my side her voice cut across the lobby.

"Oh, would you look at that—I always said those two had something going on."

"Tracey gets the boot and Manager Lambert goes scurrying right out the door after her. Real subtle."

"Manager Lambert, aren't you worried your wife will find out?"

Greg stormed back toward her, glaring down at Virginia, looking ready to swing.

"One more word out of you and I swear I'll shut that mouth myself."

Virginia stepped closer, daring him. "Go ahead. Hit me."

"Good riddance to both of you. I'll have President Fox hand purchasing over to me—and I'll show him exactly who knows how to keep clients in line."