Chapter 3Thirty Minutes of Laughter After I Lost All Assets

How did I know exactly what happened on Oliver's first day?

Sarah texted me.

My former secretary. Yesterday, Beatrice ordered her to become Oliver's personal assistant starting today.

Sarah's text read exactly like this:

"Mr. Pendleton, the new boss told me to clear everything out of your office. Do you want me to mail you that little cactus?"

I typed back:

"Throw it away. I've been watering that thing for three years. It only survived out of sheer spite. Just like the company."

Sarah sent back a crying-laughing emoji.

Half an hour later, my phone buzzed again.

"Mr. Sterling just finished his introductory meeting with the execs. Richard presented last quarter's financials. Mr. Sterling has now locked himself in his office. The door is deadbolted."

I was sitting at home, eating instant ramen.

Yes. Instant ramen.

Not because I was broke.

Because for the last three years, Beatrice banned me from eating it. She said it made the house smell cheap.

Now that I was a free man, I went to the supermarket and bought one of every single flavor on the shelf.

Spicy beef. Chicken teriyaki. Shrimp combo.

Right now, I was slurping down the chili lime flavor.

I hadn't tasted this in three years.

I took a massive bite, so incredibly satisfied that I could feel my toes uncurling.

Absolute heaven.

I typed back to Sarah while chewing:

"Don't panic. Last quarter was just the appetizer."

Sarah: "What does that mean?"

Me: "Wait until he sees last year's annual report."

Sarah: "Mr. Pendleton. I'm actually a little scared."

Me: "Scared of what? You're an employee. The company got a new owner. As long as you get your paycheck, you're fine. And if the checks bounce, it's not your problem anymore."

Sarah: "No. I'm scared Mr. Sterling is going to pass out and no one is in there to catch him."

I choked on my noodles and nearly died coughing.

At 1:00 PM, another text came through.

"Mr. Sterling ordered Richard to pull up the detailed ledgers for the last three years. Richard was on the phone for forty minutes. He just wheeled three massive boxes of archives in there. The office door is locked again."

At 2:00 PM.

"Three suppliers just showed up demanding payment. Mr. Sterling came out to handle it. He talked to them for twenty minutes. When he walked back in, his glasses were totally fogged up and the muscle in his cheek was twitching."

Three suppliers.

Only three.

Before I left, the actual number of suppliers with outstanding balances was fourteen.

And these three were the polite ones.

The other eleven were probably warming up their engines right now.

I put my phone down and turned on the TV.

I flipped through a few channels until I found a stand-up comedy special.

The sound of jokes mixing with the smell of cheap ramen. My soul was at absolute peace.

At 6:00 PM, Beatrice called.

I hesitated.

Not about whether to answer it.

I was hesitating about what tone of voice I should use.

Ultimately, I chose the best option. I let it ring out.

She called back two more times.

On the third try, I picked up.

"Hello?"

"Oscar Pendleton! You better explain to me right now why this company owes Apex Construction one point two million dollars!"

Her voice was an octave higher than usual. It was so piercing I had to pull the phone two inches away from my ear.

I got sick of that tone three years ago.

"That was the final payment for the October project last year. I told you about it. You were vacationing in the Bahamas. Your exact reply to me was, 'Stop bothering me with this trivial garbage.'"

Dead silence on the other end.

"Then why didn't you handle it!"

"I tried. I drafted a payment plan. It required your signature for approval. But that was the day you and Oliver went to that symphony in the city and skipped work. I followed up twice after that. You ghosted me."

More silence.

Longer this time.

"What about the rest of it? Richard says there's a whole pile."

"I told you about all of them. By email, by text, and in person. Seven different times. You didn't acknowledge a single one."

"You."

"Beatrice, you're the majority shareholder now. These problems belong to you and your CEO. I'm just the ex-husband who got kicked out with nothing. I really can't help you."

"You son of a!"

"Oh, by the way. A few more suppliers might drop by tomorrow. Try to be nice to them. Don't do what I did. I was way too polite, and they ended up chasing me around the parking lot."

I hung up.

Then I brewed myself a cup of tea.

Green tea.

When Beatrice lived here, she only drank espresso. She said tea tasted like dirty water.

Dirty water?

I took a sip.

The aroma was incredible.

It didn't taste like dirty water at all.