Semua Bab My Assistant’s Girlfriend Called Me a Poor Old Hag: Bab 1 - Bab 10

I am the CEO of the illustrious Sinclair Group, a publicly traded company ranked among the top 50 globally.I never thought I'd see the day when I got jabbed in the face by some twenty-something and called a freeloading old hag.Especially since the black card was mine. The room was booked under my name.Five minutes after I hung up, the manager Mr. Davis showed up at the door with two security guards.Justin saw them and dropped his fork. It clattered against the plate.Davis stepped over to me and kept his voice low. "Ms. Sinclair. Which one took your card?""Him." I tipped my chin at Justin.Davis turned. His tone went cold. "Sir. Return the card. We've already called the police."Vivienne still hadn't caught up. She slammed her palm on the table and shot up."Return? That's my boyfriend's card! Who do you think you are, some middle manager waltzing in here?"Davis didn't even look at her. His eyes stayed on Justin.Justin was sweating. "Boss, I mean, Ms. Sinclair, let me explain."

I didn't confront Justin right away.Not because I felt sorry for him. I wanted to see how far he'd go.The answer came faster than I expected.Saturday afternoon. I was heading out to my place in the hills for a couple of days off.I'd bought the property three years ago. Quiet area. I stayed there now and then.Before I left, I called Justin out of habit. Wanted him to check that the cleaning service had been by.He sounded edgy on the phone."Ms. Sinclair, there's actually some plumbing work going on at the house today. Property management said it's not livable until next week.""Plumbing? I had it inspected last week. Everything checked out.""Must be a new issue. They just told me. Maybe stay in the city this weekend?""Fine." I hung up.Twenty minutes later, I drove out there myself.From half a block away I could see four or five cars parked at the gate.One of them was a company sedan.Justin had the keys.I pulled over and walked up to the front door.It was cracked open.Musi

"Ms. Sinclair?"Vivienne's heel was still on my fingers. She heard the name and froze.She looked toward the door. A dozen people in suits.Wesley was already at my side, dropping to one knee. "Ms. Sinclair. Are you all right?"Behind him, Lou, head of security, didn't say a word. He reached over and shoved Vivienne off me.She stumbled and went down on her tailbone."You. Who are you people? Why'd you push me?" Her voice was shrill.Nobody answered.Lou helped me up. I brushed the dust off my knee and got my feet under me. There was a shoe print on the back of my hand. My fingers were going numb.Wesley looked at the scratches on my arm. He turned to the legal team. "I want photos. Everything."Then he scanned the room. His voice was as flat as someone reading off a memo."Everyone here entered private property without authorization, then assaulted the owner. That's trespassing and aggravated assault.""I'd recommend you all stay exactly where you are."The laughter and music were lon

Monday morning. I went into the office as usual.Zoe at the front desk saw the bandage on my arm. Her mouth opened, then closed. She didn't ask.Wesley's report was waiting in my inbox.His team hadn't taken the weekend off. They'd torn through every account Justin had ever touched.Three categories.One: misappropriation of corporate funds. Two hundred and fourteen thousand.Two: leaking of confidential client information to a competitor. Direct stall on seventy million in contracts.Three: unauthorized use of company assets, the corporate vehicle and the villa keys, resulting in property damage.Initial damage assessment on the villa came back ugly. The Persian rug alone was forty thousand. Sofa, coffee table, wall repairs, close to six hundred thousand combined.Last line of the email: All evidence has been turned over to law enforcement. Charges expected to be filed this week.I marked it read. Closed it.Ten o'clock. Zoe called up. Said someone was making a scene in the lobby.It

Once the evidence was with the police, Vivienne was picked up at her apartment.The story going around was that when they came to the door, she had a half-finished Facebook post open on her phone.A new selfie. Full makeup.Caption typed out halfway: "Life is all about being hap—"She didn't finish it. The knock came.Word got back to the office and the place lit up.The kitchen, the elevators, the hallways. Everyone was talking.It wasn't the money people wanted to talk about. It was the locket.Someone said it was the only thing Ms. Sinclair had left of her mother.Someone said her mother had made it by hand. Three months of work.Someone said Ms. Sinclair had worn it since she was four. Twenty-three years. Never came off.I didn't comment on any of it.That afternoon I got a long text.From Mrs. Brennan."Ms. Sinclair, this is Justin's mother. I heard what happened. This is my fault, I didn't raise him right. I'm sorry for everything you've done for us over the years. I know now tha