The heavy glass doors of the showroom slammed shut with a mechanized hiss. Every digital display across the dealership flickered, then flatlined to a glowing crimson: *INVENTORY FROZEN.*
Tiffany’s smug grin vanished.
“Mr. Davis, what is this?!” she screeched at the manager, frantically tapping her iPad. “Why is my corporate account locked?”
The manager didn’t look at her screen. He looked at Tiffany like she was a walking corpse. “You didn’t just insult a customer,” he wheezed, his tailored grey suit suddenly drenched in sweat. “You just threw a set of keys at the head of Eleanor Hayes. The sole shareholder of Vanguard Automotive. She doesn’t just own this dealership, Tiffany. She owns the land it’s built on and the bank that finances it!”
Tiffany’s face drained of color. She stared at the elderly woman in the simple cream suit. “No… no, I’m your top earner! I sold four Ferraris this month! You can’t fire me!”
Mrs. Hayes paused near the exit, her silver jewelry catching the chandelier’s light. She slowly turned around. She didn’t raise her voice, but it cut through the dead silence of the showroom like a scalpel.
“I’m not firing you, dear,” Mrs. Hayes said, her tone absolute ice. “I’m auditing you.”
Tiffany stumbled backward. Behind her, the red sports car she had so aggressively defended—the one she paraded around as her own—chirped loudly. The headlights flashed as the company’s remote lockdown engaged, bricking the engine.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you financing floor models under dummy LLCs?” Mrs. Hayes smiled thinly. Sirens began to wail in the distance, growing louder by the second. “The police are pulling up now.”
Mrs. Hayes pushed the glass door open, not looking back. “Oh, and Tiffany? Keep the keys. You’ll want a souvenir where you’re going.”