Blurb：
In a cutthroat corporate environment, Whitney Lynn faces relentless adversity after advancing 9,999 from her savings for hospitality expenses tied to the late Mr. Collins. As she navigates office politics and personal sacrifices, she confronts antagonists like Mindy Carter, who weaponizes company rules to humiliate her. With stakes involving multi-million-dollar deals with Mr. Walker and the legacy of Mr. Collins, Whitney's resilience is tested. When Kai Young, the Deputy Director handpicked by Mr. Collins, steps in, Whitney's hope for justice ignites. This gripping tale explores themes of loyalty, betrayal, and the quest for redemption in a world where the living often dismiss the dead.
Content：
I advanced 9,999 for hospitality expenses on behalf of the late Mr. Collins.That money was three months' rent I had saved up, all so I could secure Mr. Walker's deal priced at several million.
The Finance Office door was open, and when I walked in holding the reimbursement form, Mindy Carter was putting on lipstick in front of the mirror.
She glanced at the form in my hand, smirked briefly, but didn't stop what she was doing.
"Whitney, you're quick to hand in this form."
She snapped the lipstick cap shut with a sharp click, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
I set the expense reimbursement form on her desk, my fingertips trembling slightly. "Mindy, this is the hospitality expense I covered out of pocket the day Mr. Collins had the accident. Over on Mr. Walker's side..."
"Mr. Collins—why do you keep bringing up Mr. Collins?"
Mindy cut me off, pushing the reimbursement form to the corner of the desk like it was something filthy.
"The whole company knows that reimbursements need the boss's signature."
She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, her wine-red nails tracing lines on her arm. "Go get Mr. Collins to sign it. Once he signs, I'll process the reimbursement."
I gripped the hem of my shirt tightly, my voice cracking a bit, "Mr. Collins passed away three days ago... in a car accident..."
"So once he's gone, we can't sign anymore?"
Mindy Carter suddenly raised her voice so sharply that the calculator on the table even shook. "Do you not understand plain language, or are you just trying to stir up trouble? Using a dead man as an excuse—that's some nerve you've got."
The colleagues nearby stopped what they were doing and sneaked glances over here.
Some lowered their heads, some pressed their lips, no one spoke, but everyone was watching the show.
"Look at Stella Scott."
Mindy Carter ignored my expression and went on, "On the seventh day after Mr. Collins passed, she had dinner with Mr. Walker, and the contract got signed right then."
"Unlike you, who just throws money around and ends up the sucker? You're supposed to take care of the living first, then worry about the dead's accounts—how could you not get that?"
I clenched my fists so tight, my nails digging into my palms, drawing blood without me even noticing.
It wasn't pain. It was anger—angry at myself for being stupid, angry at them for being ruthless.
I fronted this money in the hospital corridor the night Mr. Collins had his accident.
Mr. Walker made over a dozen calls, threatening to cancel the deal. I was there, listening to the emergency room alarms while forcing a smile for him, and in the end, I used my own savings to keep him on board.
But now, I'm the one 'using a dead person as an excuse.'
Mindy Carter looked at my red-rimmed eyes and smiled even more smugly: 'What? Don't like it? Rules are rules. No signature, and not even the king can change that.'
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The End