The morning bustle at Grand-Ver headquarters was in full swing. Employees hurried between the elevators and their offices, exchanging conversations, rushing to meet deadlines. No one paid attention to the young woman who had just stepped into the lobby, glancing around with quiet determination.

“Well, Anya, it’s time to act,” she whispered to herself, gripping the resume tightly in her hand.

Her real name was Amylee Belsa, daughter of Gendard Belsa—one of the largest shareholders of Grand-Ver, a company specializing in eco-friendly products that had recently expanded into the fitness nutrition industry. Yet officially, no one knew this. Her documents bore her mother’s surname, allowing her to apply for a job without the privileges or biases that came with her father’s name.

My father wants to place me on the board of directors immediately, Amylee thought. But I need to understand how this company truly operates—from the ground level.

Approaching the security desk, she took a steady breath.

“What is this regarding?” the guard asked curtly, raising an eyebrow.

“I have an interview with the purchasing department. My name is Amylee Zenka,” she answered with a friendly smile.

“Alright, come in. Please register at reception,” the guard nodded.

As she entered the elevator, her pulse quickened. She was the daughter of one of Grand-Ver’s most influential figures, yet here she was—just another job applicant. But this was necessary. She wanted to uncover how ordinary employees were treated.

Up on the fifth floor, she was greeted by HR manager Irene, who skimmed through her resume.

“Amylee Zenka, right? Not much experience, but you have a degree in management…”

“Yes, I recently completed my master’s and want to develop a career in purchasing,” Amylee replied confidently. “I’m ready to learn.”

Irene nodded thoughtfully. “Our purchasing department is quite demanding. The head, Glexan Ivanich Sana, is strict—he prefers to do things his way. But if you manage, there’s room for advancement. Will you give it a try?”

Amylee smiled. “Of course. I’ll try.”

Half an hour later, she was ushered into Glexan Ivanich’s office. He was around thirty-five, with a sharp, dismissive gaze. As he scanned her resume, a frown crept onto his face.

“Your experience is minimal… But alright, we need a junior specialist. Question—are you prepared for overtime and an irregular schedule?”

“Yes, I am,” Amylee nodded firmly.

Glexan shrugged. “Salary is modest, just so you know. There are constant projects, no time to waste—you’ll need to work hard. If you agree, start tomorrow.”

Amylee accepted without hesitation.

“Go on, get registered. That’s all,” he waved her off, already losing interest.

As she left his office, her emotions were mixed. Glexan sees me as nothing more than cheap labor, she thought. But she was relieved—she had been hired without any special treatment.

The next day, she settled into her small desk by the window, sat at an aging computer, and began working on spreadsheets.

A woman in a business suit approached her.

“Hi, new here? I’m Olive, chief accountant. If you need anything related to accounts, just ask.”

“Thank you,” Amylee smiled.

Moments later, a man in his forties with a friendly smirk stopped by.

“Oh, new girl? I’m Shaun, head of transportation logistics. Need help? Just ask. If not—well, figure it out yourself.”

Amylee nodded politely, observing the fast-paced environment, feeling a slight nervousness creeping in.

An hour later, she needed clarification on something. Approaching Glexan’s desk cautiously, she asked:

“Glexan Ivanich, excuse me, where can I find the archive of old contracts? I need a sample.”

“Find it yourself,” he snapped, barely glancing up from his screen. “Check the folders by that wall.”

That was it. No guidance, no further explanation.

So this is how things work here, Amylee thought. You either learn to swim—or you sink.

A week later, the first crisis struck.

A supplier missed a crucial deadline, and complaints poured in. Clients were furious.

Glexan called Amylee into his office, irritation evident in his tone.

“Why didn’t my assistants keep track of the deadlines? You should’ve called the supplier and controlled the situation!”

“But you didn’t tell me I was responsible for—”

“There was no time for warnings!” he snapped. “Figure it out yourself. Learn to act swiftly.”

Amylee clenched her jaw but kept her composure. Is this what passes for management? No instructions, then getting blamed when things go wrong?

Still, she did what had to be done. She quickly contacted the supplier, negotiated compensation, and resolved the issue. Glexan seemed surprised by her swift action—but offered no praise.

One late evening, long after everyone else had gone home, Amylee stayed behind to finish work.

As she packed up for the night, she noticed a familiar figure in the corridor…

It was Deryn. Her cousin.

He worked in one of the satellite branches in marketing, or so she thought.

“Deryn?” she whispered, startled. “What are you doing here?”

He looked equally surprised. “Amylee? What—wait, you’re using a fake name?”

“Shhh!” she panicked, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the empty breakroom. “Nobody knows. I’m working here under a different name to prove I can do it without my father’s help.”

Deryn looked at her, then nodded slowly. “I get it. I won’t tell anyone. But… you should know. Not everyone here plays fair. I heard Glexan’s been angling for a promotion—and there are rumors he’s sabotaged people to clear the way.”

Amylee frowned. “Sabotaged how?”

Deryn hesitated. “Deleted reports. Blamed others. Quietly passed off others’ work as his own. Nothing ever proven, but watch your back.”

The next few weeks, Amylee began to notice things.

Emails she never sent showing up in the department log. Mistakes in reports she knew she had triple-checked. Glexan growing more critical, more aggressive—yet strangely smug.

Then one day, HR called her in. “We’ve received several complaints,” Irene said, not unkindly. “That you’ve misfiled orders and delayed shipments.”

Amylee’s heart sank. She knew immediately. This wasn’t a mistake. Someone was trying to get her fired.

But she wasn’t going to give up.

That night, she stayed late again. With Olive’s help from accounting, and Shaun quietly digging through old transportation logs, she pieced together a clear picture. Someone had been altering files logged under her name—on Glexan’s login credentials.

She took screenshots. Compiled a timeline. Sent it all anonymously to the ethics committee.

Within two days, Glexan was suspended pending investigation.

And just like that, the weight lifted.

Two weeks later, Irene called her in again—but this time, with a smile. “You’ve shown persistence, intelligence, and loyalty. We’d like to offer you a new role—lead purchasing coordinator.”

Amylee accepted with quiet pride.

Her father eventually learned the full story and smiled when she told him everything over dinner. “You could’ve had that corner office six months ago,” he said.

“I know,” Amylee replied. “But now I deserve it.”

She didn’t take the board seat. Not yet.

She wanted to keep learning. Building. From the ground up.

Because when success is earned—not handed—it means more.

💬 Have you ever worked hard to prove yourself when the odds were against you?
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