The Pie-Maker’s Final End
Language: en
My year-end bonus finally came through. Three hundred for me, eighteen thousand for everyone else. My general manager, Mr. Wang, clapped me on the shoulder, his smile dripping with false sincerity. "Claire, you're young. Don't focus on the money. Focus on the platform we provide." I smiled back, nodded, and accepted the pathetically thin red envelope. A week later, my contract expired. The company did not renew it. On the day I left, Mr. Wang was popping champagne to celebrate. His phone, however, wouldn't stop ringing.