Chapter 2Intern Thinks I Am Her Driver

The phone didn't stay quiet for long. Ten seconds later, it was vibrating across the nightstand again.

"Are you insane?" she shrieked the moment I picked up. "You just hung up on me! Do you have any idea who is sitting right next to me? My cousin. Rick."

I rolled onto my side, staring at the moonlight filtering through the curtains. "Oh. And?"

Brianna let out a sound of pure disgust. "And? God, no wonder you’re stuck in the basement fixing machines. You have zero survival instincts. I’m out tonight celebrating with my cousin’s family because he got me this job. If you had half a brain, you’d get down here, pay our tab at the lounge, and drive us all home. You make a good impression on Rick, and maybe—maybe—I’ll ask him to move you from the warehouse to a real office."

It was a bold play. She didn't just want a chauffeur; she wanted a sugar daddy for her night out.

"You're sure about that?" I asked, keeping my voice neutral. "You’re sure Rick can just move people around with a snap of his fingers?"

HR Directors have power, sure, but not like that. Any mid-level promotion requires a VP’s sign-off, and anything involving core operations comes to my desk. Every significant personnel change ends with my signature.

"Of course he can," Brianna bragged. "Last month, some old guy in Marketing tried to talk back to him. Rick had him transferred to the shipping containers within forty-eight hours. The guy had been there for six years, and he didn't even dare to complain. Rick runs that office. What he says goes."

I went cold. I remembered a transfer request from last month. Bill Higgins. He was a stellar performer, a veteran who knew our brand inside out. When I’d asked why a top-tier marketing lead was moving to the warehouse, the VP of Operations told me it was a "voluntary hardship request"—that Bill wanted a lower-stress environment. I’d felt sorry for the guy and signed it.

Now I realized Bill hadn't stepped down. He’d been pushed.

"Your cousin sounds like a real powerhouse," I said, my voice dropping an octave.

Brianna took it as a compliment. "You’re finally getting it. Rick says that in a few more months, he’s going to have our whole extended family in key positions. We’re going to run the place. It’ll be a family business, and people like you will be lucky to even have a gate pass."

The ambition was staggering.

"Doesn't he worry about the CEO finding out?" I asked.

Brianna snorted. "The owner? Please. Rick says the guy is some billionaire recluse who owns fifty other companies. He doesn't have time for this branch. He hasn't been seen here in years. As long as the numbers look okay, Rick is the king of the castle."

I almost laughed. I do own other companies, and yes, they are stable enough that I don't need to micromanage them. But I had been spending every day at this specific branch precisely because it was underperforming. I’d been playing "undercover boss" in the workshops to find the friction points.

I thought the problem was the machinery. I was wrong. The problem was the parasites.