Mistakenly Received 3 Million from the Ruthless CEO

Just as I was about to clock out for the day, a text message lit up my phone.
A deposit of over three million dollars. Memo: Salary.
My first thought was that it had to be a scam. I scrambled to open my banking app.
But there it was, plain as day. Three million dollars sitting in my account. The sender? My own company.
I was completely stunned. I couldn't earn that much money in a lifetime of work.
My first instinct wasn't to keep it, but to run straight to accounting.
Call me a coward, but I'd seen the news stories. Keeping quiet in a situation like this is illegal. It's called unjust enrichment. If it went to court, paying it back would be the least of my worries. I could end up with a criminal record.
I'm a man with a clean record, and I planned on keeping it that way.
.
1
"Did the company just send me a wire transfer?" I asked the woman in accounting, my voice tight with urgency.
Her expression was even more nervous than mine. "Yes," she said. "And you'd best not ask me about it. I just do what the boss tells me to."
"Do you have any idea how much money you sent me?!" I exclaimed.
"Are you deaf?" she snapped. "I told you, if you have a problem, take it up with the boss!"
Our company was small. The accountant, Heather, also handled HR and admin. She was also the boss's sister-in-law. She used that connection to boss everyone around, but today, her attitude was just bizarre. I was here to return a massive sum of money, and she was acting like I owed her.
Our raised voices had attracted the attention of the few other people in the office. Just then, the boss poked his head out of his office.
He glanced in our direction. "Cole," he said. "My office. Now."
He shut the door.
Heather shot me a triumphant glare. I had no idea what was going on, but I squared my shoulders and walked to the boss's office.
When I stepped inside, I saw the boss's wife was there too, sitting beside him. She was dripping with jewelry, an Herms bag perched on the desk in front of her as she casually clipped her nails.
My boss, Ross, gave me a toothy smile and asked with feigned concern, "So, you have a problem with your commission?"
I was completely lost. "Was that transfer my commission? The amount is wrong"
Before I could finish, Ross cut me off. "Oh, come on. Three thousand is nothing to sneeze at. In this economy, you can't be picky."
Suddenly, it all clicked into place.
A few months ago, our second team took on a new project, but the project manager had just been forced out by Ross. Ross came to me, asking me to step in and manage it. He promised me a three-percent cut of the final project value as a bonus.
It was a million-dollar project. Three percent was thirty thousand dollars.
Even though my own team was swamped, I'd agreed. Thirty grand was several months' salary. I worked myself to the bone for two months, pulling strings, calling in favors, dealing with vendors, drawing up quotes. I lost ten pounds.
But after the project wrapped, the promised bonus never appeared.
So that was it. The client had paid today, and Ross was only planning to give me three thousand dollars.
No wonder Heather was so jumpy when she saw me. If she hadn't made that massive typo on the transfer, I would have been the world's biggest sucker.
Just to be sure, I asked cautiously, "So, the thirty-thousand-dollar commission we agreed on is now three thousand. Is that right, Ross?"
The smile vanished from his face. He stared at me blankly. "You're not satisfied with three thousand? And when did I ever promise you thirty?"
"You said it yourself," I insisted. "A three-percent cut. On a million-dollar project, isn't that thirty thousand?"
Ross actually laughed. I couldn't figure out what was so funny.
He turned to his wife. "What did I tell you? Give them an inch, they take a mile. Some employees are just ungrateful. I knew he'd make a fuss."
His wife nodded sagely.
Ross turned back to me, his expression sour. "I said three percent, yes. But do you think projects run on thin air? Don't they have costs? You've managed projects before. You should have that much common sense."
His words left me speechless.
That wasn't his tone when he was begging me to take over the project. He'd invited me into his office for tea, told me the company was in a tough spot and that this client was too important to lose. He'd promised me, hand on heart, that if I saved the day, I'd get not only the three-percent commission but also a promotion and a raise at the end of the year.
So, according to his logic now, he'd always meant three percent of the net profit.
He was just playing word games.
And even if it was three percent of the net, the commission shouldn't have been only three thousand dollars.
My patience was wearing thin. "Ross, if I'd known I was going to kill myself for two months for just three grand, who in their right mind would have taken this project?"
"Am I not paying you a salary on top of that?" he shot back. "Show me another company that even offers a commission for project work. I've been more than generous!"
His words hit me like a bucket of cold water.
The company was short-staffed. I had stepped up to save a major project. Even if there was no glory, there was certainly hard labor. I thought he would at least acknowledge that. I was wrong. In his eyes, giving me three thousand was an act of charity.
Sensing the rising tension, his wife stepped in to play peacemaker. "Cole, you're partly to blame here too. Why were you arguing with Heather out there? It's bad for morale. Something that could have been discussed calmly is now impossible."
I was dumbfounded. I wasn't arguing with Heather. I was trying to return the three million dollars she'd mistakenly sent me.
The irony was laughable. Ross was playing me for a fool, and I was worried about giving him his money back. In that moment, I felt like a complete idiot.
Seeing my silence, the wife continued, "And don't blame your boss. You think he doesn't want to give you more? Blame the client. They're the ones who screwed us!"
I looked at her, confused. The project had been exhausting, but the client, a liquor company, had been surprisingly decent. They were straightforward, no corporate nonsense, and always polite.
"What did the client do?" I asked.
"They cut our payment!" she declared. "You didn't know? They only paid out half a million on a million-dollar project. That's why Ross could only give you three thousand."
I glanced at Ross.
He quickly chimed in, "That's right! After all the costs, there's barely anything left. And you know we're a small company. We still owe money to suppliers, the account is nearly empty. I had to scrape this three thousand together for you because you worked hard."
Listening to them plead poverty was almost comical. Ross owed a lot of people money, sure, but the two of them never skimped on themselves. One look at his wife's designer outfit told you that.
I just couldn't understand it. Why were they so tight-fisted when they clearly had money? When it was time to make money, they expected you to give your all. When it was time to share it, they'd rather let it rot in their hands than give you a dime.
The old me might have believed their sincere performance.
But with three million of their dollars sitting in my bank account, how could I?
I didn't bother calling their bluff. I just asked coldly, "Are you sure the client only paid half a million?"
"Why won't you believe me?" Ross said, his patience gone. "Would I lie to you? You want me to get Heather in here to confirm?"
I took a deep breath. "Fine. Then just give me fifteen thousand. I won't ask for more."
Ross's eyes bulged. "Are you deaf? I just told you, there are costs to deduct!"
"Alright," I said with a sigh. "Then let's calculate the costs. I managed the project. I know the numbers."
I regretted it now, not getting our original agreement in writing. He was going back on his word, and I had no real proof. But who could have predicted he'd be this shameless?
I'd made up my mind. I would take the loss, but I was going to get as much as I could. This was also me, giving Ross one last chance. If he decided to be a decent human being, I'd return the three million. If he kept playing games and crying poor, then I'd have to start thinking about where that money should really go.
Ross was taken aback. He probably thought his little song and dance with his wife would be enough to make me back down. He never expected me to dig in my heels over the commission.
He stared at me in disbelief and sneered, "You want to audit me?"
"It's not an audit," I said. "It's about settling the account properly. I can't just take three thousand dollars without understanding why."
I pulled out my phone, brought up the project quote, and started listing the expenses on a piece of paper right in front of him.
He knew better than I did that a PR project like this had huge margins. The bulk of the cost was in media distribution, paying some content farms to post articles, hiring a few cheap influencers to make some videos, and slipping the client's marketing head a kickback. It was all smoke and mirrors.
The quote was ridiculously high, but the actual cost of the project was only about two hundred thousand dollars.
Even if the client had only paid half a million, the profit was still three hundred thousand.
And by his own logic, three percent of that profit should have been nine thousand dollars, not three!
As I scribbled down the numbers, Ross's face grew redder and redder.
"You're just an employee!" he finally exploded. "How dare you come in here and try to audit my books?"
I tossed the pen on the desk. "What's there to be scared of? Business is business. Look, even after costs, you're left with over three hundred thousand."
Ross glanced at my figures and waved a dismissive hand. "Those are just the obvious costs! What about overhead? Does the office internet pay for itself? Do the lights and computers run on magic? What about the rent? Those are all costs!"
I was floored. I couldn't believe he had the gall to say that.
But I was done arguing. I drew a line through my numbers and subtracted another twenty thousand. "There aren't that many people in this company. You can't pin the entire office's utility bills on my project. Twenty thousand is more than generous. That still leaves two hundred and ninety thousand."
He was furious. "Are you an idiot?" he screamed. "What about the client kickback?!"
Fine. I subtracted another ninety thousand. "Happy now? That's still two hundred thousand left!"
At this point, my commission had dwindled to just six thousand dollars. But I was determined. I was going to get every last cent of it.
But I had clearly overestimated Ross's moral character. He was cornered.
He glared at the paper, his face twisting in anger. Suddenly, he pointed a trembling finger at me. "Fine! You want to play with numbers? Let me tell you something. Without this company, you're nothing! You want to calculate costs? You're the biggest cost of all!"
I almost laughed. I was so angry, a laugh actually escaped. I had worked my ass off for this company, poured my soul into this project, not to mention the countless hours of unpaid overtime.
And now, I was the biggest cost?
"What cost am I, Ross?" I asked, my voice ice cold. "My salary is my salary, the commission is the commission. Don't tell me you're counting my salary as a project cost."
"Heather!" Ross roared. "Get in here! And bring Cole's file! All of it!"
A moment later, Heather walked in carrying a thick folder.
I stood there, completely baffled. I worked diligently. What violations? What file?
Heather shot me a cold smile and spread the documents across the desk, one by one.
Ross was practically vibrating with rage. He jabbed a finger at the papers, spittle flying from his mouth. "I was trying to be nice! You got some nerve, arguing with me? Look at this! Since the day you started, how many times have you been late, left early, or been absent without leave? How do we calculate that!"
I looked down at the printouts of my attendance records and my blood ran cold.
So this was his "evidence."
I'd only ever seen this kind of thing in the news. Companies digging up years of attendance records to find a reason to fire someone. Even being one minute late or leaving thirty seconds early was counted.
I never thought it would happen to me.
I saw records dating back to 2022. Heather had them all printed out. Which meant Ross had been preparing this for a long time, just waiting for a moment to use it against me.
He had gone back three full years, to the very beginning of my employment.
I felt a chill run down my spine. No wonder people always said the smaller the company, the shadier it is. No wonder the project manager Ross forced out had warned me to watch my back. They had learned from bitter experience.
Seeing me frozen in place, Ross sneered, "See for yourself. You should be grateful we've kept you around this long!"
Heather added with a smirk, "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue? You were pretty cocky when you were demanding an audit from me earlier. Don't worry, I've got a record of everything."
I was shaking with rage.
When I was hired, Ross himself told me that small companies were flexible and that clocking in was just a formality. Now, those same instances were being used as evidence against me. And many of those "late" arrivals were because I had been working at the office until three or four in the morning! How was I supposed to show up on time after that?
I glared at Heather. "Are you serious?! You know damn well why I was late!"
She stared past me, a smug look on her face. "I have no idea what you're talking about. You never reported anything to me."
"I was working overtime on the project!" I yelled. "Ross knew! How could I possibly get up on time after working that late?"
"Did we force you to work overtime?" she retorted, her voice dripping with condescension. "No. That sounds like a personal efficiency problem." She threw her hands up. "Why should we have to pay for your problems?"
She glanced at Ross and his wife, who both nodded in approval.
Looking at her smug, punchable face, I felt a murderous rage boil up inside me. I had voluntarily worked overtime to get the project done, and now they were using it as leverage against me.
And to think, I was actually going to return their three million dollars.
Just then, the boss's wife coughed. "That's enough, Heather. No need to rub it in. Why don't you step out and let me have a word with Cole."
Heather shot me a look of contempt. "I just can't stand his arrogance. My brother-in-law is a successful business owner, and even he doesn't nitpick over every penny like this."
She gathered the attendance records from the desk and reluctantly left the office.
Once she was gone, the wife put on a sincere expression. She sighed and said, "Cole, I don't usually get involved in company business, but you've really gone too far this time."
"How have I gone too far?" I asked, confused.
"Relationships are a two-way street," she said sagely. "How your boss treats you, and how you treat him in return it's all very clear, isn't it?"
Ross, hearing his wife's words, put on a magnanimous air. "Cole, I might have been a bit heated earlier. But think about it. Without the company as a platform, where would you get the chance to manage a project like this? I gave you an opportunity. And what do you do? Instead of being grateful, you turn on me."
I stared at them, dumbfounded. How could they say things like that? This was a simple business transaction: I do the work, you pay me. But in their world, my job was some kind of moral test. It was an opportunity they had graciously bestowed upon me, and I was expected to be eternally grateful.
But one thing his wife said stuck with me.
Relationships are a two-way street.
They were clever.
But I wasn't a fool anymore.
"Are you sure about that?" I asked coldly. "That it's a two-way street?"
"Of course," she said. "As long as you buckle down and do your job from now on, we can pretend none of this ever happened."
"And the commission is off the table?" I pressed.
"What do you think?" Ross snapped. "Of course, you're free to leave the company. In that case, I'll just consider that three thousand dollars as a handout to an ungrateful dog."
I nodded. "Alright. I'll think about it."
The wife smiled. "We know this is a lot to take in Why don't you take some time? We have to go meet a client, but we'll be right back."
With that, she grabbed Ross and they hurried out of the office.
As I watched them leave, a stampede of a thousand wild animals thundered through my mind.
This was absolutely insane. These two bloodsucking capitalists reneged on a promised commission, threatened me with termination, and were now trying to gaslight me?
Fine. Let's play.
Even if I lose my job, I'm out a few months' salary.
But you two? You won't see a single cent of that three million dollars by the end of today.
I took a moment to calm myself. The coast was clear. I pulled out my phone and called my wife.
"Honey," I said, "I need you to go to the bank right now. Withdraw the maximum amount you can from my account. In cash."
She was terrified. "Did you do something illegal?"
"Don't ask questions. Just get the money. I'll explain everything tonight."
After hanging up, I dialed another number, a supplier.
"Hey, Sam? It's Cole. I need you to find out how much money our company owes in outstanding debts. The boss is settling all accounts today."
Sam was ecstatic. "What?! Did hell freeze over? Since when does that deadbeat Ross pay his bills?"
"No time to explain. Just find out who else he owes money to, and fast!"
"Well, I know of at least five or six other suppliers off the top of my head," he said. "We're talking two, maybe three million in total."
"Perfect," I said, my heart pounding. "Tell every single one of them to get down to the office right now. If they're late, I can't guarantee they'll get paid."
Sam was skeptical. "Brother, are you messing with me? We've tried to collect from that bastard a dozen times. He always dodges us."
"He'll see you today," I assured him. "If security tries to stop you at the door, just force your way up."
After hanging up, worried he still might not believe me, I sent him a screenshot of the three-million-dollar deposit.
A series of three triumphant emojis popped up in response, and then silence.
Just as I finished my calls, the boss walked back in, looking pleased as punch.

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