It was a house of cards built on fraud, theft, and the arrogance of people who believed they were untouchable.
I saved everything. Every PDF, every receipt, every incriminating email chain where they joked about “dumb donors” and “easy money.” I compiled it all into a single, encrypted dossier.
By the time I left the office, the sun was setting, casting long, dark shadows across the parking lot. I touched my jaw. It still throbbed, but the pain felt distant now. It was fuel.
I wasn’t just going to leave them. I was going to detonate their world.
For the next three weeks, I played the part of the beaten dog.
I transferred small amounts of money to them—just enough to keep them from calling my boss, but not enough to satisfy them. I let them insult me. I let Melissa wave her new Prada bag in my face and say, “This is what your money is for, sweetie. Making the family look good.”
