For six years, the company's Office Admin, Sarah, has given me the worst holiday bonus gifts. While others walk away with King Crab legs and luxury gift baskets, I'm left with a styrofoam cooler full of rotting fruit. When I confronted her, she sneered, "Trash gets trash." I didn't argue. I kept my head down for six years, silently climbing from an invisible nobody to the Lead Project Auditor. Then came the Annual Core Bidding Meeting. I flipped through a proposal— The legal representative of the bidding company was none other than the "perfect husband" Sarah had bragged about for six years. I picked up my red pen. Under "Corporate Credit Rating," I wrote a single digit: "0." 1 The message from the Admin Department popped up in the company-wide Slack channel, and the office erupted. @everyone: Year-end bonuses are ready in the breakroom! Imported Cherries + Seafood Deluxe Boxes. Please line up by department~ ??? Leo, sitting next to me, jumped up, eyes shining. "Anna! The company really splurged this year!" I didn't say a word. I closed my report on the Cold Chain Logistics project and stood up to join the line. The breakroom was packed like a subway car at rush hour. The sound of tape ripping and excited chatter mixed with the faint scent of the ocean. Distributing the gifts was, as always, Sarah. She didn't check a list. Her eyes scanned the crowd with the precision of a facial recognition scanner. When she saw the male colleagues, especially the managers, her eyes crinkled into crescents, her voice dripping with honey: "Dave! You worked so hard! Your department is number one in sales, you deserve the best!" She pulled a box of dark, ruby-red cherries and a heavy seafood gift box from the neatly stacked front row. through the clear packaging, the spiky legs of King Crabs and massive Tiger Prawns were clearly visible. When it was Leo's turn, Sarah's smile got even sweeter. "Leo! The CEO praised your Tech team's project three times in the meeting!" She stood on her tiptoes, grabbing a visibly larger box from the top shelf and shoving it into Leo's arms. "This is the biggest one! I saved it just for you!" Leo grinned from ear to ear. "Thanks, Sarah! You're the best!" "You deserve it," she winked. "We're counting on you for next year too!" Her affectionate tone was like a honey-coated razor, slicing through the fake harmony in the air. The line moved, and soon, it was my turn. I placed my badge gently on the table. In that instant— The smile on Sarah's face vanished as if someone hit the delete button. She didn't even look up at me. She bent down, reached into a deformed, dusty cardboard box by her feet, and pulled out a container of cherries. The top layer was withered and dark; some had split open, staining the packaging with dark red juice. Then she walked to the seafood section, used the toe of her shoe to hook a plain white styrofoam cooler from the very back, and slammed it down in front of me along with the rotten cherries. Thud. The cooler was dented in one corner. On the lid, written in black sharpie, was the word "SAMPLE." The whole process took less than five seconds. Smooth, decisive, practiced. Whispers rippled around me: "Look, Sarah's 'annual show' is back." "Six years now, right? Anna really has patience." "It's not patience. Sarah just plays favorites." "Look at the guy behind her, the new VP's assistant. Sarah looks ready to empty the warehouse for him." I didn't look up. I simply reached out, calmly picking up the box of rotten cherries and the broken cooler. As I turned to leave, I heard Sarah's voice pitch up again, sugary sweet: "Mike! You're here! This one is the fullest, I hid it just for you!" I carried my things through the crowd and into the hallway. Leo was waiting for me around the corner, looking like he wanted to say something. He looked at the pathetic "bonus" in my hands, opened his mouth, then sighed. "Anna, why do you put up with this? She's just shallow. She only cares about immediate benefits." "Fighting her just hurts you," he leaned in, lowering his voice. "If you ask me, just compliment her, buy her a boba tea. Next year she'll give you the good stuff." "It's easier to deal with the devil than his minions." I stopped. My fingers tightened slightly, leaving white marks on the plastic bag. I didn't look at Leo. My gaze went past his shoulder, through the glass partition, back to the breakroom. Sarah was bowing attentively, helping the VP's assistant organize his boxes, her smile blindingly bright. I withdrew my gaze, my voice calm. "I'm not putting up with it." Leo paused. "I'm waiting." Before he could process that, I turned and carried my boxes back to my office. Six years. Sarah, your show is about to end. Now, it's my turn on stage. 2 It wasn't a deep hatred between us. Not really. It barely counted as a feud. What really made me decide to fight her to the end happened during my second year at the company. That was the coldest winter of my life. My mom was diagnosed with a severe illness. The surgery costs crushed me like a mountain. I worked days, took freelance gigs at night, and spent weekends at the hospital. For three months, I slept less than four hours a night. A week before Christmas, Mom was finally discharged. But the follow-up treatments and meds required money I was terrified to calculate. After paying the final hospital bill, I stared at the number on my banking app for a long time: $13.68. The year-end bonus wouldn't come until January. How to survive the holidays became my biggest problem. So that year, the company's holiday bonus wasn't just icing on the cake. It was a lifeline. Rumor said there would be rice, oil, and seafood. I thought, at least Mom and I could have a decent Christmas dinner. On distribution day, I stood in line, thinking about the $13.68 in my account. I planned to use it for vegetables if the bonus wasn't enough. It was my turn. I placed my badge on the table, hearing my own heart pound. My face was pale, dark circles heavy under my eyes, lips cracked. She glanced at me. No sympathy, just a slight curl of her lip. A silent, utter contempt. She took a plastic bag from under the table, threw in a small bag of rice and a tiny bottle of oil. Then she went to the seafood freezer. Others got whole fish, whole lobsters. She dug around for a while, picking out a few broken crab legs, some shrimp fragments, and the smallest fish she could find, tossing them into the bag. The bag bulged, the thin plastic revealing the pathetic contents inside. My face burned hot. Blood rushed to my head, ears ringing. Shame washed over me like ice water. Maybe exhaustion broke my reason, or maybe the $13 in my pocket made me desperate. I gathered my courage, voice trembling with a plea I despised: "Sarah... could you... swap this for a normal one? My mom just got out of the hospital, she needs nutrition..." My voice was small, but she stopped. The room went quiet. Sarah looked up, eyes arrogant. "Oh, is your family special?" She lifted her chin, scanning the silent room, showing off her power. "Company benefits are for everyone, not just you! Don't want it? Leave it! People are waiting!" Boom. The string in my mind snapped. Humiliation turned into red-hot needles, driving into my bones. I saw people look away, some with pity, others exchanging glances with Sarah, enjoying the show. Every look was a knife. I shook uncontrollably. I wanted to scream, to smash that bag into her face! But I didn't. My mom was waiting at home. I needed that rice, that oil, even those broken crab legs. I didn't say another word. I picked up the pathetic red plastic bag and walked away quickly, head down, under everyone's gaze. The bag was too thin. A sharp crab leg pierced it. The hole opened and closed as I walked, like a mouth laughing silently. That night, I made porridge with the rice and soup with the seafood scraps. Mom ate happily, saying, "The company treats you so well." I smiled and nodded, throat choked with cotton. The wind howled outside. The last bit of naive hope for "fairness" or "humanity" in my heart was crushed that winter, along with that beggar's handout of a "bonus." It was replaced by a clear, cold, hard thought: Dignity is never won by begging or yielding. Some debts must be collected, with interest. And Sarah... We have a long time ahead of us. 3 After that winter, I never spoke to Sarah unless it was work-related. Even when our eyes met, we looked away coldly. I threw all my energy into work. I devoured the hardest industry analyses, taught myself supply chain systems, and spent countless nights building models and running data. I once stood before the Director of Operations with a thick stack of reports, my voice calm: "We aren't failing to penetrate this market; our method is wrong." He frowned at first, then listened in silence. Finally, he said, "Try it." I took on the high-end fresh food cold chain project that no one wanted. I built the partnership network from scratch, running to ports, squatting in warehouses, monitoring temperature controls personally. When partners were difficult, I smiled and accepted all demands, then returned with a flawless plan that shut them up. When my team complained it was too hard, I never explained. I just stayed up late optimizing routes. Gradually, the complaints stopped. More people followed. Year four: the first test order passed, and the client signed a long-term intent. Year five: we won the "Cold Chain Innovation of the Year" award at the industry expo. Year six: the company established the Fresh Supply Chain Division. I became the head. Reporting directly to the CEO. People who used to call me "Annie" now respectfully called me "Director Anna." Even Leo stood straighter when he saw me. "Director Anna." The pity in his eyes had turned into absolute caution. At the executive table, my words carried weight. I was the "problem solver" in the boss's eyes, the sharpest nail in "Project Dawn." My world had turned upside down. But in one corner, time seemed to have stopped. Behind the reception desk, Sarah's attitude toward me was the same as six years ago. She could still pick the smallest, most battered box for me out of a mountain of gifts. Rotten fruit, broken boxes—like a label of humiliation I couldn't tear off. Her smirk never changed because of my promotion. In her little game of power, I was frozen as that trembling newbie from six years ago. She even started bragging loudly about her husband in front of me: "My husband just got promoted to VP! His logistics company is a huge supplier for our group!" "He's reliable and well-connected. If we need logistics, one word from me is better than all the effort some people put in—" After speaking, she'd glance at me. A light look, but it cut like a dull knife. Every time, I took the box calmly and walked away. No arguing, no anger. The ice lake in my heart never rippled. Because I knew— Every time she bragged, she pushed her husband's company one step closer to the cliff. And I didn't have to wait much longer. 4 The opportunity came fast and direct. A week before the fiscal year-end, Director Lee called me into his office. "Anna, phase one of 'Project Dawn' finished a month early. The board is very happy." He handed me a file, unable to hide his excitement. "This is the plan for phase two next year. We need to integrate more efficient logistics partners to handle the order explosion." I took the file. The paper edge was sharp against my fingertips. "You're leading the bidding process." Once the tender was announced, proposals flew into my office like snowflakes. My team filtered them down to three. I had to pick one. I brewed a black coffee, closed the door, and shut the blinds. First: Swift Logistics. Stable plan, but expensive. Second: JD Express. Strong systems, but inflexible. Third: Rapid Transit Logistics. I opened the cover. The company profile was beautiful, printed on glossy paper. Every line screamed "Strength" and "Connections." Under "Core Team," the photo of VP Chen took up half the page. Forty-something, slightly overweight, a slick smile. Resume: 15 years in logistics, deep connections, long-term partnerships with major groups. Last line, family info. Spouse: Sarah Miller. Current Front Desk Supervisor, Admin Department. I stared at that line for ten seconds. Then I leaned back and closed my eyes. The office AC hummed like a sleeping beast. My mind wasn't filled with anger or excitement, but a cold clarity. It was as if six years of suppressed memories snapped into place, forming a complete map. That cold winter. My mom's pale face. The laughing hole in the plastic bag. $13.68. Her contemptuous smirk. And every year, the arrogance in her eyes as she handed me trash. And every time she shouted "My husband's company," "My husband's connections," "Better than some people." The triumphant look she threw my way. Turns out, the prey I was waiting for wasn't Sarah. It was the mountain she stood on to step on others. And now, the lifeline of that mountain was in my hands.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "391006", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel