Скачать или смотреть After I was fired, my boss swore he'd leave me penniless. While laughing, he said no one would...

Hearing this, the lawyer spoke and said there was actually one more thing. When he read it, my boss turned white.
He called me into his office on a Tuesday morning at 9:47. I remember the exact time because I'd been tracking every billable hour on the Henderson account.
I walked in expecting congratulations. We'd just landed our biggest client the day before, a three-million-dollar deal I'd spent six months negotiating. The client had specifically requested me as lead.
Instead, my uncle didn't even look up from his phone. "You're done here. Pack your stuff."
The words didn't register. "I'm sorry, what?"
He finally made eye contact and smirked. "You're fired. Effective immediately."
My stomach dropped. "Why? Did I do something wrong? The Henderson deal just closed—"
He leaned back in his leather chair, the one my grandfather had given him years ago. "You really thought you were irreplaceable? That clients asking for you instead of me was sustainable? I built this company from nothing. You were just the help."
Three years I'd been his right hand. Three years of eighty-hour weeks, missed birthdays, canceled vacations. I'd covered when he double-booked meetings. I'd turned his half-baked ideas into actual strategies. I'd designed half the systems keeping this place running.
"I want you gone by noon," he continued, scrolling through emails. "And don't bother using me as a reference. Actually, don't use anyone here."
I stood there, mind racing through my savings, my rent, my student loans.
Then he looked up again, that cruel smile spreading wider.
"Good luck finding work," he laughed. "You know I chair the regional industry association, right? I sit on three boards. I know everyone worth knowing. By tomorrow morning, your name will be mud. No one's going to touch you."
In our industry, reputation was everything. One bad word from the right person and you were done. If he started making calls, I'd be blacklisted before lunch.
"I gave you three years of my life," I said quietly.
"And I gave you a steady paycheck. We're even. Now get out of my office."
I was turning toward the door when his lawyer cleared his throat from the corner. Mr. Chen. I'd barely noticed him sitting there. Old guy, had to be pushing seventy, always quiet. He'd been with the company since my grandfather founded it thirty-two years ago.
"Robert," he said quietly, using my uncle's first name. "There's one more thing we need to discuss before he leaves."
My uncle waved dismissively, already back on his phone. "Not now, Chen. I'm busy."
"I'm afraid it can't wait." The lawyer's voice was firm in a way I'd never heard. He opened his briefcase and pulled out a thick document, sliding it across the desk.
My uncle grabbed it without looking, still wearing that smug grin. "What, his severance? He's getting the legal minimum—"
Then his face changed. The color drained from his cheeks. His hands started shaking so badly the papers rattled.
"What is this?" he whispered.
Mr. Chen looked at me directly, and I saw something like kindness in his eyes.
"Your grandfather's will," he said calmly. "The original one. Before the revision your uncle filed."
The room tilted. My grandfather had died three years ago, right before I joined. My uncle had been executor. I'd never questioned it.
"What are you talking about?" my uncle stammered. "The will was settled. Everything went through probate—"
"Fraud," Mr. Chen finished. "Your father left your nephew 40% of the company. You received 35%. Your sister received 25%. But two weeks after the funeral, you filed a revised will giving yourself 75% and cutting everyone else out."
My mind reeled. "How do you know this?"
"I witnessed the original will. Your grandfather asked me to keep a sealed copy in my personal files. He didn't trust probate courts with family matters." Mr. Chen turned to my uncle. "I couldn't say anything while the estate was being settled. Attorney-client privilege. But your father died three years ago yesterday."
He slid another document toward me.
"As of this morning, I filed authentication with a notary and two witnesses. The original will is now enforced."
My uncle's face went bright red. "You can't—this isn't legal—"
"It's done, Robert. I filed with the corporate registry at nine a.m."
I stared at the documents. "Does this mean—"
"You own 40% of this company. Your uncle owns 35%. Your cousin Sarah, who I called this morning, owns 25%. Together, you and Sarah control 65% of voting shares. She's very interested in an emergency board meeting."
He looked at my uncle. "Which means you no longer have authority to fire anyone."
My uncle sat there, speechless.
I picked up the empty box and set it on his desk.
"I think you should pack instead."
I turned to Mr. Chen. "How long do we give him?"
The lawyer considered. "Given he just committed wrongful termination and threatened to blacklist you? He's lucky if we give him until Friday."
I looked at my uncle...