I’m Firing Everyone

I went to inspect Dragoncrest Estates, the luxury gated community my family’s company developed.

While I was there, I planned to check on my younger brother, Leo, who was working there as an intern security guard.

But the moment I walked through the gates, I saw the property manager’s wife running wild with a massive, unleashed Alaskan Malamute.

She let her dog attack residents, and when I stepped in, she whipped around and slapped me hard across the face. "Where did this trailer trash come from?

How dare you touch my purebred dog?" "She must be a thief sneaking in to steal from the residents!

Break her legs and throw her out!" Leo rushed over, throwing himself in front of me. "Brenda, don’t you dare cross the line!" Hearing the commotion, the property manager hurried over.

He pointed a finger right at my nose and sneered. "In this community, I am God!

You two broke losers aren't walking out of here on your own feet today!" I touched my swollen cheek, feeling the sting, and smiled. "Let’s see who’s actually rolling out of here today." It was two in the afternoon on a scorching Tuesday.

Dressed in a plain white tee and faded jeans, I took a cab to Dragoncrest Estates. This was the crown jewel of luxury communities, built by the Hayden Group three years ago.

According to our design concept, this should have been the most prestigious neighborhood in the city, boasting toptier security, lush greenery, and fivestar service.

But over the past six months, the headquarters had received dozens of signed complaint letters about the onsite property management.

Some homeowners had even banded together, demanding the manager be fired. Usually, a complaint like this wouldn't require my attention as the CEO of the Hayden Group.

But today, I came in person—and I came alone to investigate. My younger brother, Leo, had just returned from studying abroad. He was arrogant and stubborn.

Our dad had declared that Leo wouldn't be handed a cushy executive job. He had to start from the absolute bottom to build character.

A few days ago, Leo called me, complaining that this place was a living hell. I thought he was just being soft.

Since my afternoon calendar was clear, I decided to swing by and check things out. But as soon as I reached the main gate, my brows furrowed.

The heavy iron gates were wide open, and the security barrier was raised high. Delivery guys on electric scooters zipped inside without even slowing down.

Flyer distributors, couriers, and random scrap metal trucks drove in and out as they pleased. I stood there for five minutes, and not a single soul stopped me.

The guardhouse window was slid wide open, blasting deafening rock music. I peeked inside.

Three security guards were huddled around a table playing cards, cash scattered everywhere amidst a sea of sunflower seed shells and cigarette butts.

Sitting right in the center was the security captain, Marcus Vance, puffing on a cigarette as he raked in a pile of bills.

Suddenly, his walkietalkie buzzed. "Captain, the elevator in Building Seven is stuck again.

A resident is trapped inside." Marcus pressed the button impatiently. "Can’t you see I’m busy? Tell them to wait!

It’s not like they're gonna suffocate!" With that, he switched off the radio. Standing outside the window, I pulled out my phone and recorded the entire scene.

Satisfied with the footage, I tucked my phone away and walked deeper into the community. The sight before me made my face grow even darker. The manicured lawns were dead and patchy.

Priceless Japanese maples and ornamental pines were mostly withered stumps.

The decorative fountains were filled with stagnant, foulsmelling green water, littered with floating plastic bags.

The emergency fire lanes were packed with private cars, some parked directly in front of the fire hydrants.

If a fire broke out, a fire engine wouldn’t even be able to squeeze through. I stopped every few steps to take photos. As I approached Building Three, I finally spotted Leo.

He was wearing an illfitting security uniform, a heavy fivegallon water jug resting on his shoulder, and two massive Amazon packages clutched in his hands.

Sweat dripped heavily down his forehead. At home, he had never lifted anything heavier than a laptop. Just then, Marcus, the security captain, strolled over. "Hey, Leo!

Stop dragging your feet! I told you to go to Building Two and help Brenda move her flower pots.

What are you doing here?" Leo panted heavily. "The resident on the eighth floor is pregnant and desperately needs this water.

I’m taking it up first." "Is a pregnant lady more important than Brenda?" Marcus spat, his voice loud and obnoxious. "Brenda is our manager Richard’s wife!

Asking you to carry her things is a privilege!" Leo held his ground. "I’m a community security guard, not a private servant." Marcus stepped forward, poking his finger hard into Leo’s chest. "You talking back to me?

Your bonus for this month is gone! And you're covering the night shift again tonight!" "I’ve already worked two night shifts in a row!" "Too bad!

In Dragoncrest, you do exactly what I tell you to do!" I stood in the shadow of a nearby maple tree, taking in every single detail. What a joke of a luxury community.

What a joke of a security captain. I forced down the urge to march over right then. Now was not the time to blow my cover.

I needed to unearth every single piece of rot in this place first.

The central park was in even worse shape. The benches were caked in dust, the children’s slide was rusted, and sharp pieces of peeled metal jutted out.

It was a massive safety hazard. As I was taking pictures, a sudden gasp echoed from up ahead. An elderly woman, Mrs. Ruth, was struggling to push a wheelchair down the narrow path.

In the chair sat a little girl, Lily, her leg in a plaster cast. A massive Mercedes GWagon was parked sideways, completely blocking the wheelchair ramp. Mrs.

Ruth was looking around frantically, tears in her eyes.

I stepped forward. "Don't worry, let me help you." But just as I reached for the wheelchair, a vicious bark shattered the air.

A massive, unleashed Alaskan Malamute charged straight toward the wheelchair. Lily screamed, covering her head, while Mrs. Ruth slipped and fell to the ground in terror.

Acting on instinct, I kicked the dog hard in the ribs, sending it tumbling away. "Oh my god!

My baby!" A woman wearing a tight pencil skirt and ridiculously high stilettos came running over.

She clutched a Hermès Birkin bag, her face painted in makeup so thick it looked like wet plaster. This was Brenda Miller, the wife of the community manager, Richard Miller.

Brenda rushed to her dog's side, then whipped her head up to glare at me. "Did you just kick my dog?!" "Your dog wasn't on a leash. It almost attacked a little girl." "Bullshit!

My baby would never bite anyone!" She eyed me up and down, her gaze lingering on my plain white tee and canvas sneakers.

A look of pure disgust crossed her face. "Look at you, dressed like a beggar.

You couldn't even afford a single bag of my baby's premium dog food!" "Where did this trailer trash come from?

How did you even sneak into a highend gated community?" I ignored her, turning around to help Mrs. Ruth up. Mrs. Ruth’s face was pale. "Sweetheart, just go.

You don't want to mess with her." "Hey, old hag! Who are you calling a monster?" Brenda shrieked.

I let out a cold laugh. "Your car is blocking the ramp, making it impossible for an elderly woman and a child to pass. And yet, you're blaming them?" "Damn right!

It’s my car, and I’ll park it wherever I want! My husband runs this entire place!" Suddenly, her eyes caught a faint, preexisting scratch on her car door.

Her eyes gleamed with malice, and she began to scream. "Aha! Not only did you kick my dog, but you also keyed my car! This is a threehundredthousanddollar GWagon!

You can't afford to pay for this!" "First of all, I didn't touch your car.

Second, parking on the pedestrian ramp is illegal." "Shut up!" Brenda reached out and grabbed my collar. "You're just a thief scouting the neighborhood!

You're not leaving until you pay me fifty grand!" I slapped her hand away. "Watch your hands." Brenda stumbled back half a step, staring at me in absolute disbelief.

The next second, she raised her right hand. SLAP! A stinging blow landed squarely on my left cheek. My head snapped back, and I tasted copper in my mouth. Mrs.

Ruth screamed, "How can you hit her?!" Brenda put her hands on her hips, sneering. "So what if I hit her?

I’m going to have her legs broken and throw her out of this gate!" I turned my head back and stared at her coldly, as if looking at a dead woman.

"Iris!" Leo dropped the water jug, rushing over like a madman.

His eyes welled with tears the moment he saw the red mark on my cheek. "Who did this?!" Brenda recognized his security uniform and burst into a mocking laugh. "Oh, look, it’s the new security boy, Leo.

This cheap girl is your sister?" "No wonder you both look like trash. It runs in the family." Leo’s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Brenda!

What gave you the right to lay a hand on Iris?!" He stepped forward, shielding me behind his back. Brenda flinched and took a step back, screaming at the top of her lungs, "Help!

The security guard is assaulting a homeowner! Security!" In less than two minutes, Marcus Vance arrived with five other guards. "What’s wrong, Brenda?

Who upset you?" Marcus wheedled, looking like a loyal lapdog. Brenda spun a wild, exaggerated tale.

In her version, I was a thief who had kicked her dog, keyed her car, and assaulted her. My brother was my inside accomplice. Marcus whipped around to glare at Leo. "Leo!

How dare you disrespect Brenda! Get on your knees and apologize right now!" Leo grit his teeth. "Her dog was unleashed and almost bit a child! And she slapped Iris!

She’s the one who needs to apologize!" "Silence!" Marcus whipped out his collapsible baton and pointed it at Leo's nose. "Hold him down!" The other guards, intimidated by Marcus, began to close in.

More and more residents gathered around to watch, but no one dared to speak up. "Her husband is Richard, the manager...

If we cross her, they’ll cut our water and power..." someone whispered. Brenda grew even more arrogant. "Hear that?

In this community, I make the rules!" "Marcus, tie this girl up and bring her to the management office!

Let my husband handle her personally!" Marcus approached me, twirling his baton. Leo spread his arms to block them. "Don't you dare touch her!

Iris is the—" Realizing he was about to blow my cover in a desperate attempt to protect me, I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Leo, don't be reckless." I gave him a look, silently telling him that our investigation wasn't finished.

Leo understood, but his eyes burned with resentment. "But Iris!

She slapped you!" "I know." I wiped the trace of blood from the corner of my mouth and looked at Brenda. "You want to take me to the management office?

Fine." "I’d love to see just how powerful your husband really is." Brenda blinked, clearly caught off guard.

She had never seen a "poor girl" remain so calm and defiant in this situation. "Bitch! Marcus, drag them away!" Holding Leo’s hand, I didn't resist. We quietly followed them.

Leo lowered his voice, whispering, "Iris, why didn't you just tell them who you are?" "If I expose myself now, she’ll just get a few days in lockup for assault." "But will that fix the rot in this community?" Leo froze. "Since I’m already here, I’m going to tear this corrupt system out by its roots.

Otherwise, my name isn't Iris Hayden." Brenda marched at the very front of our group like a victorious queen, shouting to the onlookers, "Take a good look, everyone!

This is what happens when you try to steal from our estate!" Listening to her screeching, I let out a cold mental laugh. Keep dancing, Brenda.

The higher you jump now, the harder you'll crash.

The leasing and management office was located in the center of the community.

It was originally designed as a luxury clubhouse for residents to enjoy for free, but now it bore a plaque that read "Management Office." Stepping inside, I almost laughed out of sheer anger.

Imported Italian marble floors, crystal chandeliers, genuine leather sofas, and expensive paintings.

While the community outside was practically falling apart, this place looked like a fivestar hotel. These parasites sure knew how to live.

When Marcus pushed open the door to the Community Manager’s office, the thick scent of cigars and expensive perfume hit us.

The manager, Richard Miller, sat comfortably in his leather executive chair, blowing smoke rings.

A young woman in heavy makeup was sitting on his lap, peeling grapes and feeding them to him.

It was Tiffany Cole, the head of finance. "Richard!" Brenda wailed the moment she stepped in. Richard jumped in fright, and Tiffany quickly stood up, smoothing down her skirt.

Brenda glared at Tiffany. "You little homewrecker!" Tiffany smiled awkwardly. "Brenda, you’ve got it wrong.

I was just here to present the financial reports." Richard quickly cleared his throat. "What’s with all the yelling?" Brenda didn't have time to press the issue.

She plopped down on the sofa, pointed at Leo and me, and launched into her dramatized version of the events. Richard’s face darkened as he stared at Leo. "You're Leo, right?

I pay your salary, and you turn on us?" He slammed his hand on the desk. "Marcus! Strip him of his uniform and fire him immediately!

Withhold his salary, bonus, and deposit as compensation for my wife's mental distress!" Leo scoffed. "You have no legal right to withhold my pay!

That’s a direct violation of labor laws!" "Labor laws?" Richard laughed hysterically. "In Dragoncrest, my word is the law!

A trash security guard like you wants to talk about the law?" Then, he turned his cold gaze toward me. "As for you... you scratched my wife’s car.

That’ll be three hundred thousand dollars." "No money? We’ll lock you in the basement for three days without food.

Let’s see if your family miraculously finds the cash then." He pointed to the phone clutched in my hand. "Marcus, grab her phone! She’s definitely been filming.

Delete everything!" Marcus lunged forward, but I stepped back, easily evading him. I looked at Richard, my expression perfectly calm. "Mr.

Miller, quite the authority you have here." "You ignore the open gates, you let the greenery die, you block fire lanes, and you ignore residents trapped in elevators." "And now, you're looking at false imprisonment and theft of private property." "Is Dragoncrest Estates your personal kingdom?" Instead of showing any guilt, Richard only smirked. "You've got a sharp tongue, little girl." "The homeowners here are just rich, clueless idiots.

Their money is ours for the taking!" "In this community, I am God!

I run things however I want, and no one can stop me!" I nodded. "What if the headquarters of the Hayden Group decides to stop you?" Hearing the words "Hayden Group," Richard froze for a fraction of a second.

Then, his laughter echoed through the room even louder than before. "The Hayden Group? Hahaha!" He pointed at me. "Brenda, this girl is insane!

A beggar in thriftstore clothes wants to threaten me with headquarters?" Brenda spat. "Who do you think you are? The CEO?" I ignored their mockery.

I pulled a wet wipe from my pocket and slowly, meticulously wiped my hands.

Then, I looked straight into Richard’s eyes. "I’m giving you one last chance." "Pick up your phone and call Arthur Sterling, the General Manager of Property Management at Hayden Group." "Ask him: If the CEO of the Hayden Group gets slapped in her own community, does he still want to keep his job?" The office fell into a dead, suffocating silence.

The smirk on Richard’s face froze. How could a random, penniless girl know the exact name of the division's General Manager?

Doubt and panic flickered in his eyes, but he quickly shook his head, refusing to believe it. "Stop bluffing! You think you can scare me? Marcus, grab her!" "Fine.

Since you won't make the call, I will." I dialed the number directly on my phone and hit speaker.

After two rings, a frantic, highly respectful male voice came through the line. "Miss Hayden? What are your instructions?"