On New Year’s Eve, my boss fired me. He publicly announced that he’d given me an 8 million dollar severance package. Overnight, I became the internet’s lucky, overnight millionaire. Even though my bank account only held $325.6, I was slammed online, accused of photoshopping my bank account to fake poverty, a heartless miser unwilling to share my supposed millions. Because of this, my own mother stole my ID to take out a predatory loan! She bought an 8-million-dollar mansion. The debt collectors smashed my house to pieces, forcing me to hand over the massive sum that didn’t even exist. Amidst public condemnation and violent shoves, I fell from the eighteenth floor, shattering into a million pieces. That so-called 8 million was a sham from beginning to end, a fake expense account my boss created to avoid taxes! When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my boss posted that official announcement video. My heart pounded fiercely, cold sweat soaking my back. I looked down. My phone screen was looping the “humanitarian” video. “Considering Quinn Hayes’ dedication and hard work, even if not for her achievements, the company has approved an eight-million-dollar severance package!” “This is our corporate responsibility, our commitment to our employees!” In the video, Mr. Sterling’s face was flushed with success. He held a red termination letter, speaking with an air of righteous indignation. The comment section below had already exploded, full of praise for “conscientious boss” and “angelic company.” My hands and feet turned icy cold. I stared intently at that video. In my previous life, this very video had pushed me into the abyss. Mr. Sterling had unjustly fired me to fabricate expenses and avoid taxes, then concocted this enormous severance pay. When I confronted him, he said it was just to satisfy tax audits. He claimed I wouldn’t have to pay a cent, and I could even build a persona as a rich woman. I was too naive then, thinking as long as I didn’t take the money, everything would be fine. So I went along with it. The result? Relatives swarmed like leeches, netizens doxxed my address, demanding donations, and my own mother stole my ID to go on a spending spree. Finally, I was forced to jump from a building, shattering into a million pieces. Mr. Sterling, meanwhile, gained countless followers with that video and became an industry benchmark. Heaven gave me a second chance. This time, I would never be the silent scapegoat again! Messages were still flooding the team chat. Colleagues were all @-ing me, their tones dripping with envy. [@QuinnHayes Quinn, you’re rich! Eight million, you’ll never have to worry again!] [Seriously, we always thought you were so quiet and kept to yourself. Who knew you’d walk away with such a fortune!] [When are you treating us? Such big news, you’ve gotta take us all out to a fancy dinner, maybe at the Hilton?] I sneered at their words. These very colleagues had been the loudest in condemning me in my past life when I clarified I had no money. They accused me of photoshopping my bank account to fake poverty, called me a heartless miser, and even led the charge in doxxing my desk photos in online hate posts. Mr. Sterling spoke up in the chat then too. [@QuinnHayes The money has been given, but a company non-disclosure agreement still needs to be signed.] [And everyone, don’t just focus on the money. Work hard, and you’ll all have opportunities in the future!] He was sending me a clear message. He was hinting for me to keep my mouth shut and play along with his charade. I took a deep breath, typed out a line, and sent it. [Mr. Sterling, did you transfer the money to the wrong account? My bank account shows zero received.] The group chat went silent for a few seconds. Mr. Sterling never expected me to call him out in front of everyone. A private message popped up immediately. [Quinn Hayes! Don’t you understand the rules?] [That was for show! If you dare to spill anything, I’ll make sure you can’t find another job in this industry!] But having died once, what was there to fear? I ignored the private message and continued to reply in the group chat. [Mr. Sterling, the finance department’s termination settlement clearly states zero severance pay.] [The eight million you mentioned in the video, do you have a specific remittance slip for it?] [My Uncle Mark is classmates with someone at the IRS. Shall I ask him to help us check where this money might be stuck?] He didn’t reply in the chat; he called me directly. I hung up. Want to settle this privately? No way. Just as I hung up, Brenda from the next cubicle, always looking for a handout, leaned over, her face a mask of fake smiles. “Oh, Quinn, Mr. Sterling wouldn’t stiff you on such a small amount, would he? It must be processing.” “But honestly, eight million in hand and you’re still so stingy, not even willing to treat us?” A few other colleagues chimed in. “Yeah, we work ourselves to the bone our whole lives and won’t earn eight million.” “Quinn, you’re being so unfair.” “Exactly, don’t be so selfish.” I looked at Brenda’s greedy face and just felt disgusted. I stood up, holding my phone directly in front of her, and opened my mobile banking app to the balance screen. “Go on, find the eight million for me.” The balance on the screen: $325.6. Brenda froze for a moment, then rolled her eyes, her face full of disbelief. “Oh, Quinn, you’re such a good actress. Who only has one card these days?” “You must have transferred the money to another card, or invested it, right? You’re being too secretive with us.” I laughed bitterly. People only believe what they want to believe. In the face of overwhelming jealousy, the truth didn’t matter at all. Just then, the office door pushed open. Mr. Sterling walked in, his face ashen.
His gaze was dark, fixed intently on me. “Quinn Hayes, my office, now.” He turned and left, not even bothering to close the door. The office was dead silent. Colleagues exchanged glances, all with expressions of eager anticipation. I tidied up my desk, grabbed my voice recorder, and followed him. Once inside his office, Mr. Sterling slammed the door shut. “Quinn Hayes, are you out of your mind?” He lowered his voice, pointing at me viciously. “The company’s tax planning is so everyone can get a bigger year-end bonus!” “You just have to make a scene and make everyone look bad, don’t you?” I looked at him calmly. “Mr. Sterling, I understand tax planning, but it has to be based on legality.” “You publicly claimed you gave me eight million. This money, on the books, is a company expense, which you used for tax deductions.” “But what about me? This money counts as my personal income, and I’d owe millions in personal income tax!” “Are you planning to pay this tax for me, or should I go to jail?” Mr. Sterling paused, not expecting me to bring that up. The old me would have been timid and submissive, just burying my head in the books, never daring to argue with him. His eyes flickered, and his tone softened slightly. “You don’t need to worry about the personal tax; the finance department will cook the books.” “This whole thing will blow over in a few days; no one will remember it once the hype dies down.” “After that, I’ll privately give you fifty thousand dollars as compensation for emotional distress. How about that?” I shook my head. “Mr. Sterling, I don’t want the fifty thousand. I just want to clarify the facts.” “Your video has already been shared over ten thousand times. If I don’t clarify, I’ll have to report myself to the IRS tomorrow.” “Either you post a video clarifying it was a verbal mistake, or I’ll call the police myself.” “You wouldn’t dare!” Mr. Sterling slammed his hand on the table, the jowls on his face trembling. “Quinn Hayes, don’t push your luck! If you dare call the police, I’ll make sure you can’t make a living in this city!” “You can try.” I said coldly, turning to open the door. Mr. Sterling lunged to grab me, but I was ready, sidestepping him and shouting loudly. “Mr. Sterling! Control yourself! I’m here to process my resignation, not to help you commit fraud!” The colleagues who had been secretly listening outside the door jumped back, scattering quickly. Mr. Sterling’s face was beet red, frozen in place, his outstretched hand suspended in mid-air. In front of so many people, if he actually laid a hand on me, the situation would escalate dramatically. He gritted his teeth, pointing at me, “Fine, you’ve got guts. Quinn Hayes, don’t you dare regret this!” I ignored him, went back to my desk, and started packing my personal belongings. Brenda sidled over again, her eyes full of curiosity and schadenfreude. “Quinn, did the negotiations fall apart? Mr. Sterling isn’t giving you the money?” “I knew it, there’s no such thing as a free lunch. But you shouldn’t be too greedy, just settle for what you can get.” I glanced at her, my hands not stopping. “Common sense is a wonderful thing, Brenda. I’ll say it one last time: there is no eight million. Not a single cent.” “Believe it or not.” My phone vibrated wildly. Caller ID: Aunt Carol. My heart sank. In my past life, it was also around this time that my relatives’ calls started pouring in. They weren’t calling to ask about my unemployment; they were calling to borrow money. I took a deep breath and pressed the answer button. Before I could speak, Aunt Carol’s shrill voice came through. “Oh, Quinn! You’ve really made it big! I saw the news, eight million dollars!” “Our family has truly hit the jackpot!” “Just so happens your cousin needs fifty thousand for a down payment on his wedding house. Transfer it over quickly!”
Aunt Carol’s tone was so righteous, as if the money had always been hers. I could also hear the sound of other relatives cracking sunflower seeds in the background. “Aunt Carol.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “That video is fake. It’s just my boss making things up. I was fired, and I didn’t get a single cent of severance.” “Fake? How could it be!” Aunt Carol’s voice grew even louder. “How could a big boss like that put out a fake video? It’s all over the internet!” “Quinn, I carried you around a lot when you were little. How can you now forget your family just because you’ve gotten rich?” “You can’t forget where you came from! It’s just fifty grand, pocket change from your eight million!” The phone’s speaker was loud, and the surrounding colleagues all heard. Brenda immediately covered her mouth, giggling as she whispered to the person next to her. “See? Even her family is asking for money. She definitely got it.” Liam also chimed in sarcastically. “Exactly. So stingy with her own family, no wonder she doesn’t want to treat us.” My knuckles were white from gripping the phone. In their eyes, I was fresh meat, and everyone wanted a bite. “Aunt Carol, I’m telling you one last time: I don’t have the money.” I hung up immediately after saying that, then blocked her number. Before I could even catch my breath, my phone vibrated again. My Uncle Bob, my Aunt Sarah, and classmates I hadn’t spoken to in years. SnapChat messages were exploding, all asking for “money,” “contributions,” or “help.” I looked at the constantly flickering screen, feeling both ridiculous and sad. In my past life, I explained to each one, sending them screenshots of my pay stub. But they called it photoshopped and accused me of being a miser. This life, I was too tired to explain. I simply put my phone on silent, threw it into my bag, and walked out of the company doors with my box. The whispers behind me felt like daggers in my back. “She really left? So dramatic!” “Why would you work if you had eight million? I’d travel the world.” “Acting all high and mighty. She’s probably just afraid we’ll ask her to treat us.” Stepping out of the office building, the cold wind on my face helped me clear my head a bit. The current situation was very disadvantageous for me. Mr. Sterling insisted he’d given me the money, and my relatives and friends all believed him. If I wanted to turn this around, I needed ironclad proof of Mr. Sterling’s fraud. But I had already handed over all the company accounts, and Mr. Sterling kept the core ledgers under strict control. As I waited for a car by the roadside, a familiar figure rushed towards me. “Quinn!” My mom, Susan, carrying her old canvas bag, ran up, panting, and grabbed my hand. “Mom? What are you doing here?” I was surprised. Our hometown was two hours away. How did she get here so fast? My mom’s eyes gleamed, and her grip on my hand was terrifyingly strong. “I saw it on TikTok in the village! Is it true, eight million? Where is it? Is it in your account?” Seeing her greedy expression, my heart sank. In my past life, when I was being brutally attacked online, She didn’t defend me. Instead, she stole my ID and household registration. She took those documents, swayed by a real estate agent, and bought an 8-million-dollar mansion, racking up massive predatory loans! She claimed she wanted to help me manage my money, to save it for me. But what was the result? Debt collectors showed up, smashing our house to pieces. She knelt on the ground, begging me to take out “that eight million” to pay off the debt. When I refused, she cursed me for being unfilial, for watching my own mother die. Looking at that familiar face, a chill ran down my spine. “Mom, that video is fake. I was fired. My boss just made it up to avoid taxes.” I tried to make her see reason. My mom didn’t listen at all. She suspiciously scrutinized me, her eyes sharp with cunning. “Fake? How could a big boss like that just spread rumors?” “Quinn, are you afraid I’ll manage your money? Let me tell you, you’re young and not good with money. That much money isn’t safe with you.” “Give me your card and ID. I’ll put it in a fixed deposit for you. The interest alone will be enough for us!” As she spoke, she reached for my bag.
I stepped back, guarding my bag. “Mom! I told you, I don’t have the money!” Passersby openly stared, some already pulling out their phones to record. I knew this was bad. The “8 million severance” story was trending. If I was seen arguing with my mother on the street, and it got posted online, that would only add fuel to the fire. “Look at you, child! Why are you hiding things from your own mother?” When my mom saw I wouldn’t budge, her eyes immediately reddened. She plopped down on the ground, slapped her thigh, and began to wail. “Heartless! I raised you all these years, and now that you’re rich, you don’t recognize your own mother!” “Eight million dollars! You go enjoy yourself while your mom has to struggle in the countryside!” “Everyone, come judge! This daughter is unfilial!” More and more people gathered, their murmurs growing louder. “Isn’t that the woman who got eight million? I saw the video!” “She looks honest, but how could she treat her own mother like that?” “Money changes people. There are so many ingrates these days.” Someone even shoved a camera in my face. Mr. Sterling hadn’t even made his move yet, but my mother had already plunged the first knife into my heart. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. I couldn’t fight her directly; that would only confirm I was a “heartless rich miser.” I crouched down, my eyes red-rimmed, my voice neither too loud nor too soft, just enough for the surrounding people to hear. “Mom, please don’t make a scene. If I really had eight million, would you be wearing these cheap clothes?” “Look at my phone; the screen is shattered, and I haven’t even replaced it.” “My boss is deliberately spreading rumors to avoid paying actual severance, trying to ruin my life!” “I’ve even lost my job now; I can’t even pay next month’s rent.” “If you keep this up, we’ll both end up begging for food!” The murmurs around us shifted slightly. “She doesn’t look like she has money…” “Yeah, no big boss would really give eight million; it’s probably just a gimmick.” “This mother is out of line. Whether it’s true or not, you don’t publicly shame your daughter like this.” My mom saw the shift in public opinion. She paused, then got up from the ground, wiping her nose. “He… he really didn’t give it to you?” “No! If you don’t believe me, we can go to the bank right now and check!” I grabbed her hand, ready to go. My mom’s eyes flickered, and she pulled her hand back. “N-no need. Well, if you don’t have money, can you at least let me borrow your ID?” “My ID expired, and since I’m in the city now,” “I wanted to apply for a senior citizen’s card, but they said I need a local resident permit, or to use my child’s.” My heart lurched. In my past life, she used this exact excuse to trick the documents out of my bag. I looked at her evasive gaze and understood everything. She wanted to use my documents to “confirm,” or perhaps… she had already been brainwashed by that real estate agent. Mr. Sterling’s video was the best “proof.” “My ID is at home; I didn’t bring it with me,” I lied. “Then hurry home and get it!” My mom became anxious, no longer crying. She grabbed me, pulling me towards the subway station. I smirked inwardly, showing no emotion on my face, obediently following her. You want my ID? Then I’ll give you a “surprise.” Back at my rented apartment, in front of her, I rummaged through drawers and cabinets for a long time, then spread my hands helplessly. “Oh, Mom, I think I left it at the office.” My mom’s face instantly changed. Just as she was about to explode, my phone rang. I had an ominous feeling. “Hello, is this Ms. Quinn Hayes?” The voice on the other end was a man’s, polite but with an unsettling coldness. “This is Prime Loans. Your mother, Susan Hayes, just submitted a loan application on our platform.” “Due to the substantial amount, we need to verify with you.” My blood ran cold. My mom was right next to me! I turned to look at my mom. She guiltily averted her gaze, her hand unconsciously clutching her canvas bag tightly. Inside that bag… could it be? “How much did she apply for?” I asked, trembling. “Three million dollars. The collateral used is a down payment proof for a property currently under purchase, as well as…” “A high-definition printout of Mr. Sterling’s video promising the eight-million-dollar severance package.”
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