My Wife Spoils a Poor Student and Tosses Me Spare Change

"Mr. Crane and Ansel are joining the same conference, yet Ansel gets a two-million-dollar allowance for clothes while Mr. Crane gets 100 dollars. It's pretty clear who matters more around here," a colleague said.

"Honestly, I think Mr. Crane isn't that impressive anyway. He's hardly ever in the office, and his performance is just average. At least Ansel is young and good-looking."

I couldn't help but let out a cold laugh. I'd been out there grinding day and night, just to bring in investments for the company, yet the colleagues thought I was just an incompetent loafer.

Then, Ansel added, looking slightly embarrassed, "I'm so sorry, Mr. Crane. While you were away the last few days, Ms. Fletcher gave instructions that you should move your office to the tenth floor when you get back, and I'll be using your current office."

The tenth floor? The entire floor hadn't been cleared out yet, and the rooms were full of old desks, chairs, and cobwebs. How was I supposed to work there?

"Are you daydreaming, Ansel? You're a driver, so why on earth would you work in a director's office?"

Someone standing nearby chimed in, "You're out of the loop, Mr. Crane. Ms. Fletcher has been mentoring him lately. She says he's a fast learner and incredibly sharp."

"That's right. Weren't you informed when Ms. Fletcher decided to promote Ansel to a director?"

If Jenna decided that a driver could take my place, either she'd lost her mind, or I had.

"I'm not moving," I solemnly declared.

Ansel grinned sinisterly as he said, "Mr. Crane, Ms. Fletcher likes people who get things done fast. I had the items on your desk packed up and moved to the tenth-floor hallway yesterday, and you can take a look."

He pulled out his phone and showed me a photo. Sure enough, all my belongings were piled outside the door like trash.

Rage hit me like a blow as I grabbed his tie and demanded, "What gives you the right to touch my stuff?"

Just seconds ago, he was gloating, but his eyes suddenly shifted. He slipped out of my grip and fell backward in one smooth motion.

After he hit the lobby floor with a loud thud, his voice turned pitiful and sounded full of hurt. "I'm sorry, Mr Crane. If you don't want me using your office, I'll work on the tenth floor instead.

"I was too hasty in moving your belongings, so it's only fair that you beat me up."

While I was baffled, Jenna came clicking toward us in her heels and looked utterly devastated as she helped him up.

"Ms. Fletcher," I started. "Why is my office—"

I could barely finish when a hard slap landed across my face.

"Did you seriously slap me for him?" I asked in disbelief.

Her gaze was cold, and her voice was devoid of warmth as she said, "Elton Crane, you either disappear for days or come back just to assault my staff. Shouldn't I slap you for that?"

Ansel jumped in and pitifully pretended to defend me again. "I'm fine, Ms. Fletcher. Don't make things tough for Mr. Crane.

"I'm just a driver who doesn't deserve an office, after all. I'll clear out my belongings right away."

Jenna immediately clutched his arm, and her expression softened into concerned distress. "Don't say that. You're mine, and if I say that the office is yours, it is. Don't you dare move a single thing."

"Jenna!" I roared at her. "What has he ever done for this company that you let him take my place, just like that?"

"Are you seriously questioning my authority, Elton? When did you become so unreasonable? You're acting like a violent lunatic!"

"I didn't push him! He fell on his own!" I protested.

But the people around us, eager to suck up to Ansel, immediately backed him up.

"Mr. Crane was clearly the one who shoved Ansel, while Ansel was perfectly polite the whole time."

"Exactly. Mr. Crane is just a bully who uses his title to throw his weight around, while Ansel has a great attitude and real talent. You made the right choice, Ms. Fletcher."

I stumbled back, stunned, and could barely believe the blatant lies coming out of their mouths.

"There are security cameras in the lobby, Jenna. Do you have the guts to check the footage?"

"I trust Ansel. He would never lie," she said flatly. "You, on the other hand, should know when to stop, or it'll be a lot worse than just a slap."

Ansel tugged at her sleeve and intimately said, "Let me take you to your magazine interview, Ms. Fletcher."

Jenna didn't bother giving me another glance as she got into the car, while Ansel shot me a mocking smirk before starting the engine and speeding away.