HR Picked the Wrong Girl

I shot her a look. "You really think I'd stick around a dump like this? Didn't they dock you a few hundred too? Wanna fight back together?"

"You go first. I'll wait and see."

Cool. No point arguing when we clearly lived on different planets.

Next day, Esther made her next move.

Giselle came to snatch my work laptop.

I asked what gave her the right.

"Idiot. It's company property. I can take it whenever I want."

Couldn't tell if I should laugh at her ignorance or her baby-level naïveté.

Sandra was right—nepotism hires like Esther should be tucked in a corner somewhere, far from where they can screw up everyone else's job.

I told Giselle to fill out a handover form, signature included, clearly stating the company took the laptop. No way I was taking the fall if it went missing.

She didn't like it, but she signed.

Once it was done, I messaged Esther:

[Since you confiscated my work laptop, I assume the company's no longer providing tools for me to do my job. Just checking—what exactly do you want me working on now?]

***

Didn't matter what kind of nonsense Esther threw back—I just kept repeating the same thing: ask her to assign me work. Sent the exact same message to Giselle.

Giselle got so flustered she started blowing up Esther's phone like it was on fire.

Meanwhile, I chilled at my desk, sipping my coffee, watching her pace around like a cornered rat.

Me? Just waiting to clock out right on the dot.

That evening, I was digging through old chats, hunting for bonus proof, when Giselle called.

"Celina, maybe take a few days off? Use your vacation and comp time."

I played along. "All 22 comp days and 8 vacation days?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, no. I'm good. Also, this call's recorded—for my protection. Appreciate it."

She froze, realized what she'd just walked into, then hung up. Too late.

Next morning, I clocked in right on time and hit up both Esther and Giselle for assignments.

Then Esther pulled a new move—ordered me transferred to some admin gig at another branch, said I had three days to show up.

[Esther, your word means nothing. Send a signed transfer notice.]

[Working on it. What's the rush? Sure you'll live that long?]

I smirked at my screen. I wanted to see what else she'd try.

Word spread fast—she warned everyone. 'Back me, and you're out too.'

After that, the silence was deafening. Nobody spoke to me.

Before logging out, I shot her one last message.

[Day three's tomorrow. Still waiting on my back pay and bonus. And that signed transfer notice—don't forget the stamp.]

Thirty minutes later, I was booted from the main company chat.

All my accounts? Deactivated.

Then Esther's email hit:

[Notice of Termination.]

Right after, she called—oozing smug.

"You really think some bottom-rung employee can take me on? I'll bury you."

But I wasn't mad.

Everything I'd collected was about to cash out.