They Called Me the Freaking Rulebot

I replied:

[Head hurts. Can't read the reimbursement forms.]

By a little after 4, the company group chat was blowing up with Bella fan club energy.

[Bella's so efficient!]

[Finally, no more that old rule-spewing robot. Some folks really needed to make room.]

And of course, Bella couldn't help herself. Drenched in compliments, she got bold.

She tagged me in the main chat:

[@Rina, no offense, but I think you were just overcomplicating reimbursements. Things have been way smoother since I stepped in.]

I didn't reply.

Bella clearly hated being ignored, so she started sending me daily updates on her "progress." Like I needed a play-by-play of her approval spree.

She was greenlighting every single prepayment request now—some with extra fluff.

I saw one where she handed Sales Team 2 a $100K "team-building" budget for the second half of the year. I didn't say a thing.

That team had been bleeding red for two straight quarters. Mr. Gainey was already whispering about layoffs.

Meanwhile, Winnie made her own little catwalk past my desk every day—new outfit, new designer bag, same smug face.

Whenever our eyes met, she'd tilt her chin and drop another jab. "Some people get way too emotional about handling other people's money. At the end of the day, she's just a guard dog. And when a dog misbehaves? You replace it."

Bella was right on her heels, practically synced up. "Ms. Dunn, is that crocodile leather? Just say the word—I'll file the reimbursement ASAP."

Then someone from another department walked up. "Rina, the account's short by a dollar. Should we organize a check?"

I pressed my fingers to my temple. "My eyes are killing me. I seriously can't deal with this."

Bella jumped in before I could finish. "What's there to check? It's a dollar. I'll cover it. Crisis averted."

Next, someone else popped over. "Rina, the tax deadline's coming up. What's the plan?"

Bella rolled her eyes. "File what? Rina's been clueless about taxes forever. I'll just wine and dine the rep a little—save us a fortune."

I stared at them like I was watching a slow-mo shipwreck.

But this time? I wasn't going down with it.

Month-end closing came fast. I double-checked everything—backups done, responsibilities handed off—then logged into HR and cashed out my unused vacation days.

A second later, Winnie's reply popped up:

[Vacation approved. You're an eyesore anyway. The sooner you're gone, the better!]

Predictable. I shut down my computer, feeling weirdly satisfied, and started getting ready to leave.

But just as I stood, my phone buzzed.

Mr. Gainey's voice came through sharp and shaky.

"Rina, what the hell is happening? Where's the money? The account's been drained—dozens of transfers just cleared. We're missing almost $800,000! Where is it?!"

I didn't flinch. "Mr. Gainey, Bella's managing the company account now. She was assigned by Ms. Dunn—with support from your department heads. What she approved and how? Not my responsibility."

Right then, I heard fast footsteps outside.

A coworker burst in, white as a sheet.

"The tax bureau's here! The system flagged some warnings—they're launching a full audit!"