Lock Me In The Basement

At the investors’ meeting, our intern suggested serving Yoo-hoo chocolate milk to the investors. My fiancé indulgently agreed, and the other shareholders quickly nodded along.

In my past life, I’d firmly opposed this. It was the most critical round of our company’s funding-one failure, and our entire cash flow would collapse, saddling every shareholder with massive debts.

But my fiancé had accused me. “You’re just petty. Admit it, you’re jealous that she’s younger.”

The other shareholders impatiently chimed in, “Yoo-hoo is fine! Besides, the investors only care about the company’s strength.”

We had founded this company from scratch with our own sweat and tears. I couldn’t bear to watch everyone’s efforts crumble.

So before the meeting, I’d replaced all the Yoo-hoo snacks with investors’ preferred refreshments-Earl Grey and White Blossom Herbal Tea, fresh fruit platters, and artisan pastries.

The investors had been pleased, and we successfully secured funding, going public with a soaring market valuation.

Yet the intern had stormed out in tears, only to be hit by a truck. She survived-but was left paralyzed from the waist down.

She went live, crying as she accused me of workplace bullying-saying I’d pushed her under a truck out of jealousy.

My fiancé’s silence further fueled the public outrage.

Angry protesters doused me in gasoline and burned me alive. My mother had died of a heart attack, and my father had been hit by a car and left to die in the street.

Now, in this life, when I heard the intern suggest Yoo-hoo again, I kept my mouth shut. Yoo-hoo sounded wonderful-perfect with animal crackers.

Quietly, I made a call. “That offer you mentioned-high salary, shares in the company-is it still valid?”