"Ha! Listen to this guy—talking big like he’s someone important!"
"Right? If you didn’t have Everett, you'd be nothing but a stray dog!"
"If Everett hears this, you’ll probably have to kneel on a washboard all night when you go home."
They laughed, enjoying the spectacle.
I said nothing. Instead, I calmly memorized every single one of their faces.
Then, I turned to Gideon, my expression unreadable.
"If I’m not mistaken, you and these clowns… you’re all in the same group, aren’t you?"
The laughter faltered—just for a moment.
As a sharp businessman, keen insight is second nature.
From the moment this meeting started, I had noticed how these people clung to Gideon, laughing at his every word, nodding along like obedient lapdogs. They had also received the largest red envelopes at the start of the year—so full they were nearly bursting.
The company had a clear policy: the annual start-up red envelopes were to be equal for everyone, regardless of rank or position. Yet, these people were different. It was obvious Gideon had manipulated things from behind the scenes.
And Everett, foolish as ever, had actually entrusted him with such an important position.