## A self-proclaimed rich girl came to our company for an interview today. Her answers were all over the place, yet somehow, she managed to beat out Ivy League graduates. “Oh no, I wasn’t ready earlier. Can we start over?” she said. The panel of interviewers froze, their fake smiles plastered on their faces. And so, the “exclusive” interview began. From morning till evening, it was all about her. By the time the city lights came on, the exhausted interviewers, looking like they’d just aged ten years, announced mandatory overtime for everyone in the company. That night, the rich girl posted a video: “Day 1 of inheriting my family business: Starting with a ‘secret identity’ interview.” I immediately called my mom. “Spill it. Do you have a secret love child, or am I some swapped-at-birth fake heiress?” A self-proclaimed rich girl came to our company for an interview today. Her answers were all over the place, yet somehow, she managed to beat out Ivy League graduates. “Oh no, I wasn’t ready earlier. Can we start over?” she said. The panel of interviewers froze, their fake smiles plastered on their faces. And so, the “exclusive” interview began. From morning till evening, it was all about her. By the time the city lights came on, the exhausted interviewers, looking like they’d just aged ten years, announced mandatory overtime for everyone in the company. That night, the rich girl posted a video: “Day 1 of inheriting my family business: Starting with a ‘secret identity’ interview.” I immediately called my mom. “Spill it. Do you have a secret love child, or am I some swapped-at-birth fake heiress?”
Today was interview day at the office. All the candidates had left, but somehow, the interview wasn’t over. “Didn’t the interviews finish already? Why aren’t the managers out yet?” Zach, who needed some signatures, was pacing back and forth, visibly frustrated. “Shh! You don’t know? The boss’s ‘daughter’ is still in there.” “What?!” “Yeah, the heiress. She even posted about it yesterday.” Suddenly, everyone perked up. Whispers spread like wildfire as gossip flooded every group chat. Curious, I clicked on the link in one of the gossip threads. “Tomorrow’s my big interview—what should I wear?” In the video, the enormous walk-in closet looked disturbingly familiar. And in the back corner? My best friend’s gift—a pair of my silk pajamas. My blood boiled. I immediately called the housekeeper. “Uncle Frank, is everything all right at home?” “Uh… yes, Miss Claire. Everything’s fine…” Uncle Frank’s usual calm demeanor was nowhere to be found. His hesitation sent a chill down my spine. Something was definitely wrong. “How’s my mom doing? Is she okay? When are you coming back?” he asked, quickly changing the subject. “She’s still in treatment. I’ll be back soon,” I said, keeping my voice steady. I’d been abroad since high school, receiving a top-tier education. Six months ago, when my mom suddenly fell ill, I brought her overseas for treatment. Her condition had stabilized, and I’d just finished my studies. It was time to return and take over the family business, as my mom had requested. To get a clear picture of how things were running, I decided to apply to the company anonymously, just to see what was really going on. A little undercover “work experience,” if you will. But I wasn’t expecting to walk into a scene straight out of a soap opera: a fake heiress playing dress-up in my house and pretending to be me. Staring at the messy pile of clothes and accessories in her video, all of which were mine, I clenched my fists. This was going to cost me, wasn’t it? No matter. I was going to find out who was behind this nonsense. That night, the fake heiress posted another video: “Day 1 of inheriting the family business: Starting with a ‘secret identity’ interview.”
The next morning, the gossip group chat exploded again. Someone had leaked photos of the fake heiress arriving at work. Wearing oversized sunglasses, “Mia” stepped out of a car—my car. She clutched an Hermès bag—my bag. And from the slightly ill-fitting suit she was wearing? That was my suit too. Of course, it looked a little loose on her, given her short and stocky frame. Before she even made it to the elevator, the fashionistas in the chat had dissected her outfit from head to toe. “She’s the real deal, all right! It’s like she’s wearing a whole mansion on her back!” “I wish I could be friends with a rich girl like that.” “Who wouldn’t want to be her bestie?” But their admiration didn’t last long. On her first day, the fake heiress immediately stole the team leader’s desk, claiming it had better lighting for her videos. The team leader’s polite smile froze on her face. By day two, she outright plagiarized a coworker’s report and passed it off as her own. By day three, she was randomly berating another coworker for “poor performance.” Every day, she updated her followers with videos portraying herself as the ultimate corporate powerhouse. According to her, the bosses were practically begging her to take over. She painted herself as a workplace prodigy, while the rest of us were reduced to her “supporting cast.” Her fans even gave us nicknames: “Useless Coworker #1,” “Useless Coworker #2,” and so on. The managers, spineless and sycophantic, let her do whatever she wanted. My coworkers were furious but too scared to speak up. Watching all of this unfold, my disappointment in the company’s leadership grew. I quietly documented everything in a little notebook, page after page filling up with her misdeeds.
3 It was time for our team’s product presentation. I’d spent several nights working overtime, perfecting the PPT slides. Just as I was about to take the stage, Mia strutted over, holding her phone up for a live stream. “Claire, what are you standing there for? Can’t you see the managers don’t have any water? Go fetch some, now!” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, her eyes darting nervously, though she tried to mask it with an air of superiority. “Such a lack of awareness,” she muttered. Turning to her live stream audience, she added in a sickly-sweet voice, “See, my precious fans? I have to be strict with these employees—they’re just too lazy without me!” I squinted at her, pretending to comply, and walked toward the door. But instead of leaving, I stopped just outside, leaning against the wall to listen. Sure enough, Mia had an ulterior motive. She confidently stepped up to the podium, opened the PPT I’d worked so hard on, and adopted a serious expression. “Good afternoon, everyone. I’m Mia, and I’ll be presenting today’s product overview.” She turned to the managers and added with fake humility, “I just joined the company, so my presentation might not be perfect. Please give me your feedback.” The team, catching on to her sly move, turned to look at me, their expressions a mix of disbelief and amusement. I crossed my arms and glared. My icy demeanor made them all shrink back a little. To her credit, Mia had a sweet voice, and she read through my slides word-for-word, as if they were her own. The room erupted into applause when she finished, and she flashed a wide, self-satisfied smile at her viewers, even winking at the camera. But then, someone interrupted. “So, what’s the design concept behind this product?” The applause died instantly. Mia froze, the question catching her completely off guard. The room fell silent as everyone turned to me. “Uh, the concept? Well, it’s… um… it’s designed to… increase revenue! Yes, that’s it—revenue!” Her face turned bright red as she stammered out a response. The room stayed quiet for a long, awkward three seconds before the department manager finally stepped in to smooth things over. “Well, at the end of the day, it’s all about contributing to the company’s success!” The audience murmured in agreement, but I felt disgusted. A market manager with no principles? How could this company ever grow? I sighed, frustrated. Later, Mia began to notice the growing dissatisfaction among her coworkers. To win them over, she began bringing in snacks and drinks every afternoon. “I ordered everyone some treats!” she announced, grinning. “Thanks, boss!” someone joked. “Don’t call me that—I am trying to keep a low profile!” Slowly but surely, her “sugar bombs” worked. My coworkers began warming up to her, overlooking her antics. But of course, Mia wasn’t about to let me off easy. “Oh no, Claire, I forgot you were here! I didn’t order anything for you—oops!” Her acting was atrocious, but the result was painfully effective. I was gradually ostracized by the team, left out of conversations and projects.
The company’s mid-year product sales meeting was fast approaching. The team leader assigned me to handle “service work.” “Service work? You mean, like a waiter?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m just kidding,” he replied with a smirk. “But seriously, Claire, make sure everything’s perfect. No mistakes.” Mia covered her mouth, giggling as she exchanged smug glances with the others. The toxic atmosphere in the team was grating on my nerves. The team leader had no control over the chaos Mia stirred up, and I was running out of patience. Still, he had one announcement that caught everyone’s attention: “This time, Mr. Grant from Kingsman Group will be attending the meeting. He’s a key client, and his investment will determine next year’s orders. So, bring your A-game.” “Mr. Grant?” someone whispered. “THE Mr. Grant? The George Clooney of Wall Street?” The room buzzed with excitement. My female coworkers looked ready to faint, their cheeks glowing red. Mia’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. I, on the other hand, groaned inwardly. Why does it have to be him? The company was pulling out all the stops for the sales meeting. To secure Mr. Grant’s investment, everyone had been working overtime for a week, ensuring every detail was flawless. The day of the event, Mia, who wasn’t even part of the reception team, showed up early. “Claire doesn’t have the experience for this kind of high-stakes event,” she declared to the team leader. “I should handle the reception instead.” “This is too important to risk,” the team leader replied flatly. “You don’t have the expertise.” “Don’t worry. If anything goes wrong, I’ll take full responsibility,” Mia insisted, her tone laced with veiled threats. “And don’t forget—I’m going to inherit this company one day.” The team leader caved, unwilling to argue. I, meanwhile, couldn’t have been happier to avoid dealing with Mr. Grant. As the biggest investor, Mr. Grant arrived last, making an entrance that turned heads. Tall, sharp, and effortlessly charismatic, he strode into the room like he owned the place, his piercing gaze sweeping across the crowd. Mia’s face lit up as she rushed forward, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Mr. Grant, I’m Mia. I’ll be assisting you today,” she said with a forced giggle. He didn’t even glance at her, walking straight past as his eyes scanned the room. “Mr. Grant, you’re so funny!” Mia called after him, mistaking his indifference for teasing. “My dad owns Titan Group. He told me our families go way back.” Mr. Grant stopped abruptly, turning to look at her. His expression darkened, his piercing gaze now cold and scrutinizing. “Excuse me,” he said icily, “but the Grants and the Lee family are not ‘old friends.’” The room went dead silent. In reality, the Grants were close with my family—the Charlestons. Without us, the Lee family was nothing. Mia’s face turned pale as she stumbled back. Quickly, the team leader stepped in, trying to defuse the situation. “Mia, apologize to Mr. Grant. He’s just joking with you!” “Uncle!” Mia whined, her voice trembling, clearly trying to play the victim. Across the room, the other company executives exchanged knowing smirks. No one took Mia seriously anymore—except me. I clenched my fists, anger boiling inside me. Titan Group had been built by my grandfather and nurtured by my family for three generations. It was the heart of the Charleston legacy. And I wouldn’t let anyone—least of all Mia—tear it apart.
The product sales meeting was a disaster. As the chaos wound down, Mr. Grant—aka Ethan—shot me a knowing look, raising an eyebrow. I gave him a small nod in return. At the coffee shop downstairs: “Why are you here, Ethan?” I asked, sipping my coffee. “Someone’s been back in town for weeks and didn’t even bother to let me know. What was I supposed to do? Wait for a formal invitation?” He leaned back in his chair, his usual playful grin on full display. “And don’t pretend you didn’t miss me.” Ethan’s casual charm was in full force, complete with exaggerated winks and flirtatious smirks. “Alright, enough. What’s the deal with this Mia?” “Don’t worry,” I said, smirking. “She’ll be handled soon enough.” We hadn’t seen each other in ages, and the conversation flowed so easily that neither of us noticed the pair of angry eyes glaring at us from outside the café window. When I returned to the office, things felt… off. Everyone was staring at me, their expressions a mix of judgment and disdain. “Hmph, does she even know her place? Imagining she could catch Mr. Grant’s eye?” “Exactly. Throwing herself at him during the company event—what a disgrace! She embarrassed all of us.” Two coworkers who used to be friendly with me were now taking turns mocking me in whispers loud enough for everyone to hear. “Claire, how do you even have the nerve to show your face here?” Mia suddenly interjected, pointing a furious finger at me. “You’re shameless! Flirting with Mr. Grant instead of focusing on your work? Do you even want this job?” Her face was flushed with anger, but her tone was laced with triumph. “That’s ridiculous,” I replied calmly. “Ethan and I are just friends.” My words were met with laughter. “Friends? You? With someone like Mr. Grant?” Mia sneered, her voice dripping with condescension. “Yeah,” one of the others chimed in. “If you want to marry into money, maybe try reincarnating into a rich family first!” I glanced around at their mocking faces, keeping my composure. Then, I let a slow, deliberate smile spread across my lips. “Well, since you’re all in such a good mood,” I said, my voice sweet but cold, “you’ll be thrilled to hear the news: because of Mia’s poor performance during the meeting, the entire marketing department’s year-end bonuses have been canceled.” The office fell silent. The laughter stopped instantly, and everyone turned to me, their mouths agape in shock. Just moments earlier, I had contacted the head of the finance department—one of my mother’s most trusted employees. Ever since Mia had joined the company, the marketing department had descended into chaos. The leadership was spineless, the employees were lazy, and everyone spent more time scheming against each other than actually doing their jobs. When things went wrong, no one tried to fix them. Instead, they pointed fingers and gossiped. If they couldn’t self-correct, they deserved to face the consequences.
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