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Stolen by My Trainee / Chapter 10: Standing My Ground
Stolen by My Trainee

Stolen by My Trainee

Author: Gregory Meza


Chapter 10: Standing My Ground

My boldness paid off: they made up the rest of my monthly performance bonus that same day. But the $15,000 was still unresolved.

I wasn’t worried. I was waiting for my triple salary payout. With my salary, I was determined to make them cough up thousands. But I didn’t expect the three of them, who never did their jobs, to suddenly turn their attention to my past projects.

Karen came to me first, saying there were problems with my previous projects and demanding explanations. It was a blatant trap—I could see through it blindfolded. I just ignored her. Those projects were completed and accepted long ago. What’s it got to do with me now?

Karen was bitter, threatening me outright. “Matt, don’t think the company’s scared of you just because you called the inspectors.”

I just sneered. If not for the inspectors, I’d have been screwed by you lot.

“You won’t deal with the old projects? Fine, here’s a new one—finish it before New Year’s.” She tossed a folder on the floor in a huff.

I snorted: “Send me the electronic copy. My back’s stiff these days—can’t bend over.” Then I turned and left her office.

Soon after, Karen sent the electronic version. I opened it—another trap. Hadn’t this project been abandoned for over half a year? Now they were dusting it off just to set me up.

But I had no excuse to refuse. If I did, they’d say I was refusing company orders and fire me without compensation.

Right at that moment, Mark Johnson walked by, talking loudly on the phone: [Hey, Officer Lewis, this is Mark Johnson. Got time for dinner soon?] [It’s nothing much, just that there’s a troublemaker in the company—causing us problems and using your enforcement team to pressure us.]

Mark spoke sarcastically, deliberately raising his voice as he passed me, as if afraid I wouldn’t hear. The office smelled of leftover pizza from last night’s late shift, and the sound of his voice echoed in the open-plan room. I straightened my shoulders, thinking, Let them play their games. I’d survived on less—and I wasn’t about to back down now.

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