Chapter 3

Someone tagged me in the chat.

[Amy, my wife's allergic to shrimp. Steam her a separate grouper when we're there.]

Another message popped up right after.

[My dad's got gout, no shellfish for him. Make him a private bowl of oatmeal with foie gras, freshly made — don't you dare fob him off with day-old leftovers.]

I gave a cold, silent laugh. Eating and drinking for free wasn't enough for them — now they wanted to work me like hired help?

I didn't reply. The next morning, I went straight to Gerald's office.

Gerald was on the sofa, drinking coffee. I got straight to the point.

"Gerald, you saw the message I sent yesterday, right? That seafood restaurant really isn't—"

Gerald's face darkened. He set his cup down, not gently.

"Amy, your attitude is a real problem."

My stomach dropped.

He frowned and rapped his knuckles hard on the desk. "Do you honestly think I care about some birthday party? You think I'm dying for a taste of your seafood? I'm doing this for the company!"

He slammed his hand on the desk, looking genuinely wounded. "Denise is a longtime employee. She's paying out of her own pocket to organize a team event, running herself ragged — and why? So a new hire like you could get some face time with leadership.

"If you're not going to show any gratitude, fine. But standing here, lying to me on top of it? That's just disappointing."

My fists clenched, my voice rising despite myself. "I'm not lying—"

He raised a hand to cut me off. "Enough. Team spirit weighs heavily in your probation review. Go think about that."

With that, he steered me out of the office and shut the door behind me with a bang.

I'd barely sat back down at my desk when a shadow fell over me. Denise stood there, arms crossed, a smile playing at her lips.

"Amy, you're new here. Don't be so uptight. Sometimes, taking the loss is actually good for you.

"It's just one seafood dinner. Make the boss happy, and getting your contract renewed practically takes care of itself."

She said it like she was doing me a favor.

"When I first started here, I spent a whole year running around after the senior staff, hand and foot. You think I complained?"

I said nothing. I started clearing my things off my desk.

Denise's expression shifted. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I quit."

A few coworkers nearby looked up at once.

Denise blinked, then her voice climbed. "Over one dinner? You're quitting over that?"

She raised her voice to a shriek for the whole office to hear. "Listen to this, everyone! Young people these days are so fragile. One meal at her place and she's acting like we've committed some crime against her!"

The coworkers around me wrinkled their noses.

"Using quitting as a threat, seriously?"

"If she wants to go, let her go. She hasn't even made it through probation, and she's already acting like she owns the place."

"Drop the act. If you wanted more money, you could've just said so. Isn't this a little pathetic?"

I ignored them and walked straight back to Gerald's office. I handed him my resignation letter.

He knocked it off the desk without even looking up. "Wait for approval."

I tried to speak, but he slammed his hand on the desk, impatient. "This is a company, not your house. You don't get to come and go as you please. Wait for approval."

I looked at him in silence for a moment, then turned and walked out.

Back at my desk, Denise sneered at me. "Weren't you quitting? Go on, then, leave."

Murmurs rippled around me.

"Such a drama queen. Who's she even performing for?"

"Denise, maybe just let it go. Acting like eating one meal at her family's restaurant is a death sentence."

Someone else chimed in, dripping with sarcasm.

Denise gave a cold laugh. "I'm having this dinner whether she likes it or not." She glared at me, venomous. "Amy, you'd better wise up. Don't make an enemy of everyone here, or nobody's going to be able to save you when the time comes."

I looked down and opened my chat with Marcus.

Me: [Marcus, there's something I want to run by you.]