Constance stepped into his office, her usual brisk stride softening slightly as her gaze met Hank's. A small, almost hesitant smile touched her lips, a flicker of anticipation in her eyes. "So…" she began, her voice carrying a note of intrigued curiosity, "what do you have for me?"

  Hank returned her smile with a confident smirk. "Quite a bit, actually," he replied, a hint of the dramatic in his tone. He gestured towards the small conference table situated in a corner of the spacious office. "Come, have a seat." He walked over and settled into one of the chairs, the leather cool against his skin. Constance followed, her movements graceful and composed, and sat down beside him, her attention already focused intently on him.

  Hank turned the laptop screen towards her, bringing up the meticulously documented files he had prepared. He started with the banking information, displaying the series of transfers from the company's spending account into James Hanigan's personal account, the dates, the recurring amounts, the sheer volume of the misappropriated funds laid bare. Constance's eyes widened as she scrolled through the transactions, her breath catching in her throat. A look of disbelief, then a wave of hurt, washed over her features. She shook her head slowly, a silent acknowledgment of the betrayal. "Hank… you recovered everything," she whispered, her voice barely audible, tinged with a profound sadness. "I never suspected… I knew he was careless, but I never imagined he would do something like this."

  Hank nodded grimly, allowing her a moment to process the information. Then, he brought up another file, the one he had recovered from the laptop's recycle bin just an hour earlier. He double-clicked it open. "I found this too," he said quietly, his gaze meeting hers. The screen now displayed a list of nine previously unknown accounts. Without a word, Hank navigated to the online banking portal, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he logged into each of the nine accounts. One by one, they appeared on the screen, all registered under James Hanigan's name. Constance watched, her initial shock giving way to a tense anticipation.

  Hank then pulled up the account balances, the numbers slowly loading, revealing the staggering sums held within each. He did a quick mental calculation, the total figure sending a jolt of disbelief even through him. He turned the screen back to Constance. The cumulative balance of these newly discovered accounts came to another staggering forty-nine million dollars.

  Constance gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and disbelief. "Hank… can you… can you pull it?" she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

  Hank nodded, his fingers already hovering over the prepared transfer button. He had anticipated this request, had the system ready to move the funds, but he had wanted her to witness the extent of the theft firsthand. He clicked the transfer button. A confirmation window popped up, and with another decisive click, the digital money began to move. Constance watched the screen intently, her breath held captive. "He stole… he stole over sixty-eight million dollars from me," she whispered, the enormity of the betrayal finally sinking in, her voice laced with a raw pain.

  Hank reached out and gently placed his hand over hers, his touch offering silent support. "Yeah," he said, his voice firm, "but I have the screenshots of everything, Constance. And now the money is back where it belongs. He will go to jail for this, for a very long time."

  Constance pulled out her phone, her fingers shaking slightly as she opened the company's main account. Her eyes scanned the balance, and a look of stunned disbelief crossed her face. "Hank… this is… this is almost eight months of profit," she whispered, her voice filled with awe.

  Hank shook his head gently. "No, Constance," he corrected her softly. "It was registered as expenses, remember? This is net worth. He wasn't just siphoning off profits; he was bleeding the company dry."

  She nodded slowly, her mind still reeling from the sheer scale of James's deception. She was visibly shaken, the weight of the betrayal heavy in the air. After a long moment of silence, she looked at Hank, her expression a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. "I am almost afraid to ask," she said, her voice barely a whisper, "what else did you find?"

  Over the next hour, Hank systematically presented Constance with the evidence he had uncovered, each revelation adding another layer to the already shocking tapestry of James Hanigan's deceit. He showed her the recovered videos, one by one, each depicting her ex-husband engaged in explicit sexual encounters with different women. The encounters took place in various locations: on his office desk, on the floor, on the sofa, and even, with a sickening twist, right there in the office, on the very conference table where they were currently sitting.

  Constance watched in stunned silence, her initial shock giving way to a profound sense of betrayal and disgust. She shook her head in disbelief, her eyes reflecting a mixture of anger and a deep, personal hurt. Hank, with a professional detachment, relayed the information he had gathered. He explained that, in addition to the eleven videos he had discovered the previous night, he had found another four hidden within the laptop's recycle bin files, bringing the total to a staggering fifteen women James had callously used.

  But the revelations didn't end there. "I still have over a thousand files to go through," Hank informed her, his tone businesslike. He then presented her with a list of names of individuals employed by the company. "Three of them you already fired, Tina included," he said, his gaze meeting hers.

  Constance nodded slowly, her expression hardening. She was still watching the last video, her eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched. Hank looked at the screen. "This woman… I can't find her in the system," he said, his voice quiet.

  Constance shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "She doesn't work here. She is supposedly my best friend. Always supporting me about how horrible it was that James fucked around," she hissed, her voice laced with venom.

  Hank shook his head in disbelief. "Some friend," he said, his tone mirroring her disgust.

  Constance nodded, her expression grim. "Constance," Hank said, his voice firm, drawing her attention back to the matter at hand. "I need a new computer. This one you will need. All the evidence you need to have your divorce settled quickly is on here, along with the evidence to have him arrested."

  Constance looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and a newfound respect for his thoroughness. "You will have one within the hour. I will send someone out to buy it right away," she said, her voice decisive.

  Hank looked up, his gaze sweeping over the silent office space visible through the windows. "None of the ones working here, I hope," he said, his tone carefully neutral.

  Constance looked at him, her brow furrowed. "Why?" she wondered, her curiosity piqued.

  Hank pulled up his notes, the small map he had sketched earlier. He then proceeded to explain his morning observations, detailing the arrival times of each employee, the late logins, and the general lack of productivity he had witnessed.

  Constance's eyes narrowed, her initial gratitude giving way to a stern, businesslike demeanor. "Well…" she said, her voice low and dangerous, then she stood abruptly, her movements sharp and decisive. She walked towards the door, her gaze sweeping over the office. "Everyone that logged in after eight AM on the company system will lose half an hour's pay. Everyone after nine AM loses an hour, and so on. As of this day, time will be controlled. If you are not working, you do not get paid. It is as simple as that." Her voice carried a new authority, a clear message that things were about to change.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Hank handed her the note with the names of the four employees he had observed doing the bare minimum. "Charles, Frank, Gloria, and Sophie, come in here, please," she said, her voice ringing with command. The four individuals mentioned stood up, their faces a mixture of confusion and apprehension, and walked towards the office. "The rest of you better be working," she added, her tone leaving no room for argument, the implied threat hanging heavy in the air.

  As the four employees, Charles, Frank, Gloria, and Sophie, filed into the office, Constance closed the door with a firm click, the sound echoing through the room, a clear indication that this was not a casual conversation. "Please sit," Constance said, her voice cool and authoritative, leaving no room for argument. The four individuals, their faces a mixture of confusion and apprehension, reluctantly took seats around the conference table. Hank, his gaze steady and unwavering, sat at one end, while Constance took her position at the other, her presence commanding and formidable.

  "Do you have any idea why you have been called in here?" Constance asked, her voice sharp and precise, cutting through the silence. The four of them exchanged nervous glances before shaking their heads in unison.

  Hank turned the laptop around, presenting the screen to them. "I have been going over the progress reports of everyone," he began, his tone measured but firm, "and the four of you do nothing all week, and then on Fridays, you put in the investments just before you leave. This isn't just about laziness; it's about actively risking the company's financial stability because you are not checking weekly fluctuations. It's also about the hours you claim for doing absolutely nothing."

  One of the men, Frank, let out a derisive snort, his eyes narrowed with defiance. Hank turned to him, his gaze unwavering. "You have a problem with my observations?" Hank asked, his voice low and dangerous.

  "First off," Frank began, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "and no disrespect to you, Mrs. Hanigan, but this young man comes in here, and all of a sudden, we are supposed to take his word that he knows what he is doing?"

  Hank's smirk widened, a predatory glint entering his eyes. "You must be Frank…" he said, his voice laced with amusement. "First off," Constance interjected, her voice rising with a controlled fury, silencing Frank's objections. Everyone turned to her, her eyes blazing. "It is Miss Hanigan, James Hanigan, my soon to be Ex-husband is no longer part of this company, and will be divorced from me, MISS Hanigan soon enough." Her words were delivered with a cold, cutting edge, each syllable emphasizing her authority.

  "And second…" Constance continued, her gaze sweeping over the four of them, her voice dropping a few registers, becoming even more menacing. "Mr. Avery here has already recovered over sixty million dollars that was lost to the company just yesterday. That is now safely back in the company's bank account." Her words hung in the air, a stark reminder of Hank's capabilities and their own incompetence.

  Hank's smirk deepened. "As of this moment," she said, her voice firm, "you have one week to change your work methods. If I do not see progress commensurate with the money you are paid hourly, I will terminate your employment."

  "You can't do that," one of the other men, Charles, blurted out, his voice tinged with panic.

  Hank's gaze snapped to him, his eyes burning with a cold fire. "Oh, but she can," he said, his voice dripping with icy certainty. "You see, I pulled up the records for the last three years, and in total, you, Charles, have earned the company a total of nine hundred dollars. And that's not even considering the coffee you've drunk, the water you've consumed, or the food you ate during those days Miss Hanigan gave to the company." He displayed his findings on the screen, the numbers stark and damning. "Of the four of you, Gloria is actually the only one making a decent profit," Hank said, showing Gloria's sheet. She had made the company two hundred thousand dollars this year, most of it pure luck, Hank guessed, but it was profit nonetheless.

  Hank looked at the others, his gaze sharp and unforgiving. "If it was my choice," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "only Gloria would leave here today still having a job. But Miss Hanigan is giving you a chance."

  Gloria blushed, her surprise evident. She was clearly not accustomed to anyone standing up for her. Constance smiled, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "So, Thursday next week, we see if you have improved," she said, her voice laced with a promise of retribution. "You can go, but Gloria please stay." Constance added, her tone leaving no room for argument. The three others stood, their faces a mixture of resentment and fear. There was some unhappy mumbling, but Hank ignored it, his gaze fixed on Gloria.

  As the door clicked shut behind the disgruntled trio, a palpable shift occurred in the atmosphere of the office. Hank leaned back in his chair, a silent observer, recognizing that this was Constance’s stage now, her moment to address the lingering issues within her company. Gloria, left alone with her two powerful superiors, looked at Constance nervously, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

  "Gloria," Constance began, her voice softening slightly, yet retaining a core of authority. "You've been with Hanigan Investment for four years now, and I've always been aware that you've been under a particular kind of pressure." She paused, her gaze direct and empathetic. "My ex-husband… well, to be direct, he was trying to get you to sleep with him, wasn't he?"

  Gloria’s cheeks flushed crimson, her eyes darting down to her lap. She nodded almost imperceptibly, a silent acknowledgment of the uncomfortable truth.

  "I hired you, Gloria," Constance continued, her tone becoming warmer, more personal. "You are the daughter of one of my dearest friends, and this job… this was your way out, wasn't it? A chance to finally gain your independence, to move out of your parents' house and build a life for yourself."

  Gloria nodded again, a single tear escaping her eye and tracing a lonely path down her cheek. She swiped at it quickly with the back of her hand.

  "Listen to me, Gloria," Constance said, leaning forward slightly, her voice now filled with a genuine sincerity. "Hank was right. Of the four of you, you are the only one who has consistently pulled your weight, who has actually generated profit for this company. Now, I need you to show me that you will continue on this path. If you have any concerns, any at all, about anything happening in this office, I want you to go to Hank. I know he will always have his door open for you." She glanced at Hank, a small, reassuring smile passing between them.

  Hank nodded in agreement, his expression conveying his willingness to support Gloria.

  Gloria looked at Hank, her voice barely a whisper, still tinged with disbelief. "I'm… I'm not fired?" she asked, her eyes wide and questioning.

  Hank shook his head firmly. "No, Gloria, you are not fired. In fact, I need your help. You know the people here, you've worked alongside them. I don't. I need you to keep an eye out for everyone. I need to know what they are saying, what the general atmosphere is, and most importantly, what they are actually doing when they think no one is watching."

  Gloria looked at Constance, a flicker of apprehension in her eyes. "You want me to… spy?" she asked, the word hanging in the air.

  Constance leaned back in her chair, a confident, almost amused smile playing on her lips. "Hank will be here for years, Gloria. He has already proven to me that I can trust him implicitly. Hell," she added, her smile widening, not bothering to hide the playful intimacy in her tone, "I fucked him too."

  Gloria’s eyes widened, and she glanced quickly at Hank, a blush creeping up her neck. She had to admit, now that she looked at him more closely, he was undeniably attractive, with a quiet intensity that was rather compelling.

  "You can too, if you like," Constance added casually, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

  Gloria’s blush deepened instantly, spreading across her cheeks. "Listen, Gloria," Constance clarified, her tone becoming more serious but still carrying a hint of amusement. "Hank is free to do as he wants in his personal life. He is the director now. However," she emphasized, "we have an understanding. He won't engage in any… personal relationships with employees here in the office. That he has to do at home or at a Hotel. That is a deal we made. But he is in charge. You don't have to sleep with him to keep your job, but if you want to, I'm sure he wouldn't object. Your job is secure no matter what. Just help him out, be his eyes and ears."

  Gloria nodded slowly, processing the unexpected turn of events.

  "Good," Constance declared, her voice regaining its businesslike edge. "From now on, you are Hank's personal assistant. You will still handle investments, as that is clearly your strength, but your desk will be moved. It will be right outside his office."

  Hank smirked, a silent acknowledgment of the strategic move. Gloria was indeed strikingly beautiful, about five feet three inches tall, with a nicely toned waist and a noticeable, firm C-cup bust. Her long, brown hair was threaded with vibrant red stripes that caught the light, and her eyes were a warm, inviting brown, like the rich hues of an autumn leaf.

  "Now, Hank will be here early every morning," Constance continued, her gaze pointedly directed at Gloria. "So, perhaps not coming in late again would be beneficial."

  Gloria nodded quickly, a sheepish expression on her face.

  "Good. Now, go get your things from your old desk and move them to your new workspace," Constance instructed. Then, she stood up and placed a reassuring hand on Gloria's shoulder, her touch conveying a sense of genuine care. "And while we're at it, Gloria, I'm giving you a fifteen percent raise for your new position."

  Gloria looked up at her, her eyes wide with surprise. "For real?" she asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

  Constance nodded, a genuine smile gracing her lips. "Yeah. You can thank Hank for that one. He was the one who clearly identified your contributions and your potential."