On any normal day, when I treated them to boba or ordered afternoon snacks for the office, every single one of them called me "Beryl" with a smile on their face.

Seeing their true colors now was enough to make my stomach turn.

I propped my chin on my hand and stared at the sunlight outside the window. It hit me all at once that I had no reason to keep wading through this swamp alongside them.

I opened my laptop and began typing my resignation letter, word by careful word.

I had just finished and was about to hit send when Kathy dropped a message in the group chat.

It landed like a drop of water in hot oil. The whole chat erupted.

“The banquet venue is The Peony Grand.”

The moment she posted the full address and name, everyone lost it.

“Are you serious? The Peony Grand is the most famous seafood restaurant in the city. Last time I took my mom there for her birthday, one table alone cost me close to ten grand.”

Derek, who never passed up a chance to wine and dine on someone else's tab, immediately fired off a message the second he heard "Peony Grand"：“It's really twenty-one dollars a head?”

He was terrified of spending a cent more than necessary.

Kathy sent back a sticker that said "No problem."

“That's the price, Mr. Harrington.”

“I already talked to someone on the inside. As soon as we show up, it's twenty dollars a head.”

Derek fired off a string of thumbs-up emojis, then, still not fully convinced, added：“Send us the menu first. I don't want them passing off cheap dishes as the real deal.”

Before Kathy could even respond, her loyal lapdog Sarah jumped in.

“Boss, omakase doesn't come with a menu. That's the whole point.”

Derek caught himself and quickly backtracked：“Right, right, right. Got ahead of myself. This is a company perk for the employees, so Kathy, make sure you put your heart into it.”

“Absolutely. I'll make sure everyone eats and drinks like royalty.”

Watching the group chat glow with warmth and camaraderie, I couldn't help myself. I threw a bucket of cold water on it.

“The Peony Grand is a Cantonese seafood house. I've never once heard of them doing omakase.”

A place where a single plate of greens cost over fifty dollars. Did anyone honestly believe they offered a twenty-one-dollar-a-head omakase?

Anyone with half a brain could figure it out. But this crowd wasn't thinking. They were too busy hoping they'd scored the deal of a lifetime.

The group chat went dead, as if someone had pulled the plug on the internet. For a long time, no one typed a word.

Finally Kathy resurfaced：“Of course you guys wouldn't know. This is an insider-only thing.”

That was all it took. A wave of sycophants flooded the chat, falling over each other to praise Kathy, gushing about how she was obviously some heiress slumming it in a regular job for the experience.

Derek bought it too. If Kathy had the nerve to promise The Peony Grand at that price, she had to be a rich girl playing office for fun.

With the mindset that passing up a bargain was the same as losing money, he typed：“Any chance we can add more people? I'm thinking we invite our clients to dinner too.”

After all, at twenty bucks a head, not milking this for everything it was worth would be criminal.

He didn't even notice it himself, but somewhere along the way his tone toward Kathy had started to border on fawning.

Kathy waved her hand with grand generosity：“No problem at all. Just give me the headcount and I'll reserve the spots. Let's invite the suppliers too while we're at it!”

In the end, Derek scraped together every contact he had. He practically wanted to drag along his distant aunts and third cousins twice removed. The final tally came to a staggering 150 people.

Ten to a table. Fifteen tables.

Derek made a show of hesitating：“Is that going to be too much trouble for you?”

Kathy, the same woman who wouldn't normally spring for a single cup of boba, was suddenly the picture of magnanimity：“Not at all. The more the merrier.”

A table that normally ran close to ten grand, now supposedly two hundred.

Was that even remotely possible?

I shook my head with a quiet laugh, content to sit back and wait for Father's Day. The show was going to be spectacular.

What I didn't expect was that after I submitted my resignation, Derek's response nearly made my jaw hit the floor.

He waved it through without a second thought, but not before squeezing in a few backhanded jabs.

“You've been with the company for a few years now. Ask yourself honestly, what have you actually brought to the table?”

“Your salary is well above market rate, but your contributions? They don't even measure up to Kathy's, and she's brand new.”

Anger shot straight to the top of my skull. My nails dug into my palms so hard they left crescents in the skin.

I forced myself to stay calm, refused to let the fury steer.

“Mr. Harrington, the company's annual performance reviews are all on record. Every project and contract I've handled has been error-free. If I were really that useless, someone as budget-conscious as you would never have paid me a premium salary.”

He clearly hadn't expected me to push back. Surprise flashed across his face first, then curdled into indignation.

His face turned the color of raw liver. He jabbed a finger at me, sputtering "You— you— you—" without managing a single coherent sentence.

I stood up：“If there's nothing else, I have work to finish.”

I walked out without looking back.

I'd already resigned. Who in their right mind would sit there and let him gaslight them?

That same afternoon, Derek made two announcements in the company group chat.

First, Kathy Swanson's title was changing from purchasing assistant to secretary.

Second, any employee who had submitted a resignation would not be eligible for the Father's Day company benefit.

I was the only person who'd resigned recently.

I almost laughed. Petty and cheap to the bone. Classic Derek.

The group chat erupted with cheers.

“Kathy's talent speaks for itself. Making her secretary is long overdue.”

“Just thinking about future team dinners at places like The Peony Grand makes me realize how much we were missing out before!”

“Hear, hear! People who quit shouldn't be shameless enough to mooch off company perks.”

I watched the messages scroll by, then got up, walked right over to the people typing them, and held my payment QR code in front of their faces.

“You still owe me your share from the last team dinner.”

Their expressions went pale in an instant, mouths opening and closing without producing a single word.

I posted the receipts, the invoices, and my payment code directly into the group chat.

“Would everyone who hasn't paid their share from the last dinner please send me the money? I'd rather not have to come collect in person and make things awkward.”

They grumbled and cursed under their breath, but one by one, the transfers came through.

I felt nothing. These were people I'd never have to see again after I left. They weren't worth the energy.

Besides, they had no idea that I was looking forward to Father's Day even more than they were.

Because I'd already called ahead to check. Our company had no reservation at The Peony Grand. None.

So I was genuinely curious: where exactly were fifteen tables' worth of people going to sit?

Father's Day arrived before I knew it. I brought my parents to The Peony Grand early.

I studied the welcome board at the entrance carefully. Our company wasn't listed anywhere.

I also asked around and confirmed that every private room, banquet hall, and VIP space had been booked well in advance. Only the main dining hall on the first floor had any availability.

And if there was one odd thing, it was this: the first-floor hall clearly had extra tables sitting empty.

Yet the sharp-eyed hostess steered us straight past them and up to the second floor.

“I'm sorry, those tables are reserved.”

I counted the empty tables on my way past. Exactly fifteen.

Was it really just a coincidence?

But the tables weren't clustered together. They were scattered across the entire floor, and none of them had a company name card on display.

After my parents and I were seated on the second floor, my eyes kept drifting back down to the first floor.

My mom and dad called my name several times before I snapped out of it.

Then Kathy and Derek walked through the entrance with a crowd trailing behind them, and my chopsticks clattered to the floor.

What was going on? They actually showed up. Did Kathy really have that kind of pull?

Derek surveyed the tables scattered across the main dining hall and frowned：“Why are we out here in the open? Why wasn't a private room booked? And these tables are all spread apart.”

Kathy jumped in with an explanation：“There was nothing I could do. The whole thing got dumped on me so last minute that every good spot was already taken.”

Derek's expression softened slightly as he realized he was being unreasonable.

“Blame Beryl. No skills, but she just had to hog the assignment.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Once the group was seated, Derek started pressing Kathy to get the food coming.

“No rush.” Kathy's eyes darted around the room as though she were searching for something.

Derek's lips parted, but in the end he said nothing.

They were already inside the restaurant. What could possibly go wrong?

Derek's son, Clifford Harrington, looked like he'd been stamped from the same mold as his father: round-faced and overfed.

He gripped a pair of chopsticks in one hand and a spoon in the other, banging them on the table：“Dad, I wanna eat! I want seafood!”

“Kathy, can you hurry the food along? Everyone's starving.”

Gina chimed in：“For real! My dad and I haven't eaten since last night just to save room for this!”

Kathy's brows shot up and she snapped：“What are you, starving ghosts? Quit hounding me!”

The outburst shut everyone up. Faces soured across the table.

But nobody dared talk back. Kathy had spent weeks cultivating the image of a restaurant heiress, and the group was still buying it.

Thirty minutes later, our food upstairs was already served.

Downstairs, all fifteen tables still sat empty of food. Derek was about to lose it.

Then Kathy finally stood up, and Derek and the others let out a collective breath of relief.

They all assumed she was going to hurry the kitchen along.

What she did next, no one saw coming.