"And my commission from last month's eight-million-dollar deal. The second that money hits my account, I'm gone."
That money was the only thing standing between my grandmother and her ICU bills. Her next round of targeted therapy.
Dean let out a mocking laugh, reached behind him, and flung a financial statement at my face. The paper slapped against my cheek and fluttered to the wet floor.
"Commission?" He tilted his head, grinning. "You actually have the nerve to ask?"
He turned to face the entire staff and raised his voice. "Listen up, everyone!"
"After a thorough internal investigation, the company has confirmed that Vincent Sullivan has been using psychological manipulation disguised as mystical guidance to brainwash and extort our clients."
"He has severely damaged the reputation of Delgado Group. Every single one of those contracts was obtained through superstitious nonsense and fraud."
"Therefore, his commissions are hereby confiscated in full as restitution for the damage done to the company's name."
"And that's not all. Given the harm you've caused to this organization—" Dean held up a document. "You'll also be signing this five-million-dollar claim for damages."