Mr. Cross belittled an employee so terribly she cried herself into a two-week coma. (She also claims that Mr. Cross’s “demanding hours” and “distracting looks” endangered her sex life.)
Mr. Cross caused severe emotional damage & trauma by insulting a Bugatti salesman for wearing “a cheap-ass suit.”
Mr. Cross sneakily purchased Company A in good faith, but fired every employee days later after purchasing its competitor, Company B.
Okay, I might be guilty of this last one…
Maybe.
Checking the “might consider paying for this one” box, I made it through thirty more cases before needing a break.
“Can you please just settle this second-degree burn case with Leighton Taylor?” My advisor, Aaron, plopped into the seat across from me.
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Because you’re racking up legal fees for no reason, and you’re not going to win any money.”
“It’s not about the money.” I looked at him. “It’s the principle. People need to learn to stop suing me in hopes of getting a big payday.”
“That’s not why people sue you, and Miss Taylor is only asking for a hundred thousand dollars.”
“Only?” I arched a brow.
“You did accidentally spill your morning coffee on her, and it’s not like that amount of money affects you.”
“First of all,” I said, closing the files, “I’m glad you said ‘accident,’ because that’s exactly what it was. I even offered to pay her nonexistent medical bills with a year’s worth of therapy, because that’s what this woman actually needs.”
“Harrison…”
“Second of all—” I refused to buy into any emotional games. “It was anicedcoffee, so how the hell did she get burned?”
He smiled. “No third of all?”
“Of course, there is,” I said. “Third of all, she should be apologizing tomefor wasting my time.”
“Right…” He rolled his eyes. “I just think that now would be a good time to show a bit of goodwill, to help your reputation. Don’t you care about your legacy?”
I gave him a blank stare.
“Now landing at Teterboro Airport, Mr. Cross and guests.” My pilot’s voice came over the speakers as the plane began its descent.
“Surely you want your biographer to have something nice to say about you when you’re dead and gone,” Aaron prodded. “Please…”
“Okay, fine.” I tapped my fingers against the woodgrain. “You can tell my lawyers that I’ll happily settle with Miss Taylor.”
“Good.” He smiled. “For the full one hundred thousand?”
“For a cup of iced coffee and a ten-dollar gift card to reality.”
“Forgive me for trying.”
“You’re forgiven.” I smiled, ignoring his glare until we made it to the hangar.
Unbuckling my seatbelt, I grabbed my files and moved to the front of the plane. Then I waited for the pilot to step out of the cockpit and open the door.
Below, a red carpet and a line of black luxury cars awaited my arrival.
I stepped off with Aaron and slid into the first car while my remaining core staff slid into the others.
