Blurb：
When **Quentin Quinn**’s nine-year loyalty to **Sherry Twain** implodes over an $860 A/C bill and **Daniel Jenkin**’s draconian HR rules, he walks out of AetherTech with his sales team. But **Sherry Twain** isn’t done – changing door codes, smearing his reputation, and stealing his $5M deal. Trapped in a leaking warehouse with collapsing morale, Quentin’s last hope arrives via **Giselle Besnier**, the enigmatic heiress of **TrueNorth Capital**, who demands one condition: "Shut every mouth that ever looked down on you."
Key hooks:
- **Shocking exit**: Quentin drowns **Daniel Jenkin** in champagne during the confrontation
- **Ruthless new rules**: 5-minute bathroom limits, essay requirements for printer paper
- **Sherry’s venom**: Public humiliation, financial extortion ("Pay back EVERYTHING"), blocking suppliers
- **Giselle’s gamble**: $300k project that pits Quentin against **Sherry’s Harvard-educated HR star**
Will Quentin’s ragtag team survive **Sherry Twain**’s corporate sabotage? Can **Giselle Besnier**’s secret agenda turn him from "discount menu item" to industry titan? Explosive workplace drama perfect for fans of **The Firm** meets **Succession**.
Content：
At the company's celebration dinner, the new HR guy slapped a bill on the table—$860 for A/C and venue costs from our last all-nighter.I shot a look at Sherry—my girlfriend, my boss—thinking she'd have my back.
Nope. She latched onto HR's arm and said, Quentin, this isn't your daddy's company. Quit freeloading.
And just like that, nine years of busting my ass for this company, and turns out—I was the discount item on the menu.
Chapter 1
A bill hit the table between Sherry Twain and me.
Daniel Jenkin—new HR guy with a Harvard ego—flashed a smug grin. "AC charges for sales' overtime. $860. Split it."
His voice was so oily I felt like I needed a shower. "Sherry says we're trimming fat. Gotta boost efficiency."
Silence. Like, dead silent.
Our sales crew had just landed a million-dollar deal, and now their smiles were stuck mid-celebration.
I shot Sherry a look sharp enough to slice steel.
She was the boss. My girlfriend for nine years.
Right now? Her hand was curled around Daniel's arm.
Didn't even look at me. Just threw shade at the whole team. "Quentin, this isn't your daddy's company. Quit freeloading."
Daniel, riding high on Sherry's approval, whipped out a tiny notebook.
"New rules," he announced. "One: to save water, bathroom breaks get timed. Five minutes a day, tops.
"Two: wanna use an A4 sheet? Cool—just write a 2,000-word essay explaining why.
"Three: break room water cap—500 milliliters per person. Go over? We dock your pay."
Each line landed like a slap. My team's faces darkened by the second.
Ronnie finally snapped. "Daniel Jenkin, what is this? Are we slaves now?"
Daniel barely blinked. "If you can't handle advanced management, you're replaceable."
Sherry jumped in like a reflex. "Ronnie! Show some respect! Don't like it? Leave."
I laughed, dead cold. "Come again, Sherry?"
Sherry's brows pinched, dripping with attitude. "Daniel's a Harvard star, elite HR. His word's policy. You're just sales. Stay in your lane."
"Harvard?" I laughed louder. "Did they teach him how to kill a celebration dinner mid-toast?"
Daniel's face went ghost-white.
Sherry slammed the table. "Quentin Quinn! How DARE you!"
I grabbed the champagne in front of me and strolled over to the tower.
Everyone froze.
Then—crash.
The champagne poured down like gold rain, flooding every glass.
Soaked Daniel head to toe.
He exploded. Literally screamed.
I tossed the glass and faced Sherry.
One word at a time: "This celebration? Canceled. Sales director? I quit."
Grabbed my bag. Walked.
Behind me, no hesitation.
"Quentin, wait up!"
"Screw this dump. Let 'em drown in their own mess!"
Chairs scraped back like thunder. All twelve of them followed me out of that suffocating room.
Sherry's voice shrieked behind us. "Quentin! You walk out that door, don't come back! We don't need you!"
I didn't even flinch.
Without us, Sherry, you're done.
Chapter 2
When I got back to the place Sherry and I called "home," the door code was changed.
Called her. No answer.
Stood outside in the cold for half an hour.
Then she finally rolled up—with Daniel riding shotgun, dragging it out just to rub it in.
He got out first, rocking my limited-edition sneakers.
Clung to Sherry's arm, smirking like he owned the lease.
Sherry unlocked the door, all attitude. "What are you whining about now? Can't you see the company's a mess?"
I didn't say a word. Just headed straight for the bedroom, yanked out two suitcases, and started packing.
Opened the closet—half my stuff was on the floor. Daniel's clothes took over the rack.
He leaned in the doorway, smug as hell. "Sorry, Quentin. I've got a lot of stuff. Sherry said you barely used yours anyway, so we packed it up."
I bit down the fury and kept packing, one item at a time.
Then I saw it—the old Marketing notebook Sherry and I used to study with—jammed under a table leg.
I pulled it out, ready to toss it.
Daniel shrieked. "Don't touch that! That table's custom Italian, worth tens of thousands! You break it, you're paying!"
Sherry stormed in, finger in my face. "Quentin! What is YOUR problem? Pack your crap and leave!"
I snapped. "Did you forget how this company started? Who sold off their only inheritance to fund it? Who stood in a storm for eight hours to land our first client?"
Every word hit like a slap.
Her face lit up red. Not from guilt. From rage.
She tried to wipe it all clean. "Why dig up the past? I'm the CEO. My rules. You lived off me for nine years! Without me, you'd still be crammed on the subway! Who do you think you are, yelling at ME?"
That one cut deep.
I stared at her—face twisted with guilt masquerading as pride—and felt it.
I was done.
"Every bite I took, I earned. The deals I closed could buy a hundred of you. Without our sales team, your little empire's a hollow joke. Starting now, we're done."
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The End