At dinner, Tiffany White grabs my fiance's phone and spends 100 thousand dollars on a designer bag. She even sticks her tongue at me.

"Come on, Meredith. You're loaded. You won't mind such a small amount, right? Shawn and I share everything. His money is my money," she says.

Everyone at the table waits for me to lose my temper or smile and let it slide like a saint. Instead, I calmly take out a voice recorder and my laptop from my bag and adjust my gold-rimmed glasses.

"100 thousand meets the threshold for criminal filing. Since you said you two share everything, I have to ask—is this embezzlement or an illegal transfer tied to an improper personal relationship?

"Oh, and what you just said about 'his money is my money'? I recorded that. According to the supplemental clauses in our prenup and the company bylaws, I'm officially initiating an asset-freezing order against Shawn Harrison."

I turn to Tiffany. "Enjoy your free meals in prison, Ms. White."

Shawn is livid. "It was just a joke, Meredith. Is it really necessary to ruin me over this?"

I hit the "enter" key.

"Sorry. In my book, there are no jokes—only bad debt."

My phone buzzed. A bank notification popped up on the screen, indicating an outgoing transaction of 100 thousand dollars. I set my cutlery down and looked at my fiance, Shawn Harrison.

He didn't look back at me. He was busy shelling crab meat for his godsister, Tiffany White. His head was lowered, and he was completely focused.

Tiffany was holding his phone. The screen was still lit, displaying the "Payment Successful" page on a luxury brand's website.

She casually spun the phone in her hand and waved it at me. "Hey, Meredith. I've been eyeing this bag for ages. Shawn said you're usually too frugal and don't understand fashion. So, he figured I could help him spend some money and keep up appearances."

There were seven or eight people at the table. All of them were Shawn's close friends and business partners. Everyone stopped eating, their eyes darting between me, Shawn, and Tiffany. One of them let out a short laugh.

After shelling the crab, Shawn put the freshly picked meat on Tiffany's plate. Only then did he finally look up at me.

"Tiffany's basically a kid. Don't lower yourself to her level. It's just a bag. It's not like we can't afford it."

I stayed silent. Unzipping my briefcase, I pulled out a voice recorder pen. As I pressed the record button, the red light blinked on. Then I took out my ultra-thin laptop, powered it up, and typed in the password.

My movements were smooth and precise, almost habitual.

Tiffany's smile froze. She leaned closer to Shawn, half her body practically draped over his arm.

"Look at her, Shawn. She even brought a laptop for dinner. Is she gonna start doing the accounts again? What a party pooper."

He frowned and slammed his cutlery on the table. "Meredith, is this some kind of work obsession? This is a casual, private dinner. Put that crap away!"

I ignored him, my fingers tapping on the keyboard. I created a new spreadsheet and named it "Shawn Harrison Large Unusual Expenditure Memo".

I pushed my gold-rimmed glasses up and looked at Tiffany. "You said you two share everything and that his money is yours, right?"

She raised her chin. "Yeah. Shawn and I grew up together. It's something called a 'bond', Meredith. Someone like you who only looks at spreadsheets would never understand."

I nodded. "Very well."

Then I turned to Shawn. "And you agree with that statement?"

He waved his hand impatiently. "Tiffany's like a little sister to me. What's wrong with her spending a bit of my money? You're my fiancee, but you can't tolerate something this trivial? Don't be petty. It's embarrassing."

I pressed the "enter" key. The cursor blinked on the screen. I spoke calmly, making sure the voice recorder captured every word clearly.

"According to the law, anyone who misappropriates corporate funds for personal use, especially in significant amounts, can face up to five years in prison.

"Shawn, your card is linked to the company's corporate account. Tiffany isn't an employee of the company, yet she just spent 100 thousand dollars using corporate funds."

I looked at him. "You're the company's legal representative, and I'm the chief risk officer. You authorized a non-employee to use corporate funds for personal luxury spending…"

I paused for effect. "If this isn't classified as embezzlement, then the only other explanation would be an illegal gift tied to a personal relationship. Our company is in the middle of a critical audit before going public.

"If this 100-thousand expense lacks a valid business justification, the auditors will flag your finances as non-compliant."

Silence fell over the table. The man who had laughed earlier froze, his wine glass hovering in midair inches above the table.

Shawn's face flushed a deep, ugly red. He shot to his feet, his chair screeching against the floor.

"Are you out of your mind? This is between Tiffany and me. Who asked you to turn it into a legal lecture? Embezzlement? Prison? Are you so desperate for attention that you can't stand me being nice to someone else?"

Tiffany's eyes immediately reddened. Tears spilled on cue, the big drops sliding down her cheeks.

"Meredith, why are you humiliating me like this? All I did was buy a bag… You're just mad because Shawn treats me well. You can take it out on me, but don't drag him into this."

She sobbed, burying her face in Shawn's chest.

Shawn wrapped an arm around her, patting her back, then pointed a finger at me. "Meredith, I want you to apologize to Tiffany right now. Otherwise, the wedding is off!"

After saving the spreadsheet, I closed my laptop, switched off the voice recorder, and slipped them back into my bag. Then, I stood up.

"Whether the wedding happens or not isn't for you to decide, but I do get to decide whether the company's accounts are clean. 100 thousand dollars—if it's not returned to the corporate account within three days, I'll personally submit the case to the financial crimes unit. Also…"

I turned to Tiffany. "I recorded your statement when you claimed that Shawn's money is your money. Under the company bylaws and the supplemental clauses in our prenup, I have the right to freeze any assets tied to high-risk relationships that could result in a loss for the company."

Pulling out my phone, I called the bank account manager right in front of them.

"This is Meredith Caldwell. Shawn Harrison's corporate account ending in 7788 has a significant financial risk. Under my authority as the Harrison Group's CRO, I'm ordering an immediate freeze on all non-salary transactions from this account."

A professional voice came from the other end of the line. "Understood, Ms. Caldwell. We'll execute the freeze immediately."

Shawn's phone buzzed. This time, it was a notification confirming the account had been frozen.

He stared at the screen in disbelief, then looked back at me. "Meredith, are you serious?"

I straightened the hem of my blazer. "I always am."

With that, I turned and left the private room. Behind me came the sharp sound of porcelain breaking and Shawn's furious yelling.

"Just you wait, Meredith!"

…

The next Monday morning, I sat in the CRO's office, a stack of reimbursement forms spread out before me.

The door swung open. Tiffany strutted in, wearing a skirt that barely reached mid-thigh and holding a cup of coffee.

The finance manager, Mark Levy, followed behind her hesitantly. "Ms. Caldwell, I… Ms. White insisted on coming in."

I didn't look up, my hand circling items on the forms with a limited-edition Montblanc pen worth over a million dollars.

"Out."

Mark bolted as if he had been pardoned, slamming the door behind him.

Tiffany plopped down on my desk, setting her cup of coffee right on top of my documents. Condensation from the cup seeped into the paper, smudging the ink.

I paused, finally lifting my gaze to look at her.

She swung her legs, the tip of her shoe nearly grazing my face. "Meredith, I have to say, you're so petty. Freezing Shawn's account? He had to borrow gas money from the guys today. That must've been so humiliating for him."

She reached for the reimbursement forms on my desk. "And these—the finance manager says you won't sign them, so there won't be any reimbursement. It's just a few outfits. Shawn said it counts as building the company's image."

I pressed the forms down, pulled one out, and held it up in front of her. "Victoria's Secret, lace lingerie, three sets, totaling 600 dollars. Remarks: Office supplies."

I looked at her. "Ms. White, may I ask, during which business operations are these 'supplies' used? Should I specify in the audit report that special services are being conducted in Shawn's office?"

Tiffany barely flinched. She tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing a red mark on her neck.

She was deliberately showing off her hickey.

"Come on, Meredith, don't be such a killjoy," Tiffany said. "Shawn's under a lot of stress. I help him relax at the office. For that, I need special work attire. That counts as contributing to the company, right?"

She reached for the pen in my hand. "Nice pen. Let me play with it."

I didn't let go, and she yanked hard. Her nails scraped the back of my hand, sharp and hot, drawing blood. The pen eventually fell into her hand.

She popped the cap off and, without hesitation, dragged the nib straight across my solid mahogany desk. She drew a donkey, then wrote my name on its back.

Tiffany giggled. "See? It looks just like you—stubborn and slow-witted."

She spun the pen between her fingers, then knocked it twice against the desk corner. The nib broke. Just like that, a limited-edition Montblanc worth over a million was ruined.

I stared at the pen, then at the scribble, and took out my phone to snap photos of the desk and the cut on the back of my hand.

Tiffany pouted. "Gosh. All you ever do is take photos. What are you gonna do with them? Tattle on me to Shawn? He won't entertain you."

The door swung open again. This time, Shawn walked in.

He glanced at the mess on the desk, then at the pen in Tiffany's hand. He didn't even ask why my hand was bleeding. Instead, he frowned at me.

"Why are you giving Tiffany such a hard time again?" he questioned. "She came by for my signature and only passed by your office. Did you have to stop her?"

Tiffany immediately jumped down from the desk and clung to him. "Shawn! She was so mean to me. She said the lingerie I bought was… inappropriate. But it's what you said you liked last time…"

He patted her head, glaring at me. "I've seen those reimbursement forms. I approved them through finance. You're seriously making such a fuss over a few hundred dollars in a company this big? If word gets out, people will think I can't even cover that small amount!"

I pointed at the stack of documents. "It isn't just lingerie. There's also 20 thousand for beauty treatments, 50 thousand for hotel suites, and even three thousand for dog food.

"Every single item is marked as 'office supplies' or 'business entertainment'. This is called false expense reporting, Shawn. It's potential tax evasion."

Shawn walked over and snatched up the stack of documents. Then he tore them into pieces, sending scraps of paper fluttering across my face.

"Now it's gone."

He sneered. "You wanted evidence? There's nothing left now, Meredith. And don't try to use your little auditing rules to pressure me. This is Harrison Group, not Caldwell Group. If you don't like it, you can pack your bags and leave right now."

Tiffany clapped her hands beside him. "You're so cool, Shawn! This killjoy should've retired ages ago!"

She tossed the ruined pen carelessly into the trash and remarked, "Stupid pen. It's not even as smooth as my two-dollar ballpoint."

I stared at the pen in the trash. It was the last gift Grandma had given me before she passed away. I bent down, retrieved the pen, and carefully wiped the coffee stains off it with a napkin. Then I slipped it into my suit pocket.

Heading over to a drawer, I pulled out a new document titled "Notice of Revocation of CFO Authorization".

I didn't show it to Shawn and simply slipped it into my briefcase.

I said calmly, "The papers may be torn, but the underlying tax records are still intact. The bank statements are still there. What you tore isn't just paper—it was your own escape route."

He snorted, draping his arm around Tiffany as they walked out. "What a psycho. Come on, Tiffany. I'll take you to buy a new bag. Let's piss her off."

At the door, she glanced back at me. Sticking her tongue out, she flipped me off and said mockingly, "You're such a loser, you old hag."