Chapter 1

To save 15,000 dollars in year-end bonus, the company decided to lay me off before New Year's.

The HR director held my attendance record, pointed at the record of leaving work on time, and called me a lazy and self-indulgent employee.

The boss even made a statement at the year-end party. "We need to eliminate employees who lack competitiveness to make the company more efficient."

I did not make a fuss, signing the document and leaving quickly.

They had no idea that this office building had just been transferred to my name last week.

Out of consideration for being colleagues, I originally wanted to offer the company a six-month rent waiver as a New Year gift.

Now, weeding out those who were less ambitious seemed to be what they wanted.

Fine, I didn't have to send this grand gift.

Chapter 1

"Malcolm Lewis, sign here. We're adults; don't make a scene."

A Notice of Termination of Employment Contract was tossed onto my desk. It was light, just like my status in the company over the past two years.

The person who tossed the document over was named Jessica Zimmer, the Human Resources director.

She was wearing a designer suit today — although I knew it was a counterfeit. She also painted her lips a bright red, as if she were ready to devour someone whole.

Looking at me condescendingly, her head was held so high that her nostrils were almost touching the ceiling.

There was a dead silence all around.

Some of the colleagues in the cubicle were pretending to frantically type on the keyboard while some buried their heads in their documents.

Only the new intern, Alexis Yeager from the next cubicle, looked at me worriedly, hesitating to speak.

It was December 28th.

Only three days were left until the company promised to distribute the year-end bonus.

Firing me right before the New Year? I had to hand it to Fred Waller, the boss. He knew how to run a business.

By firing someone, the money saved on bonuses would go straight back into his pocket.

I picked up the piece of paper and glanced at it.

The reason section explicitly stated: [Mismatch in values, lack of competitiveness, repeated refusal to participate in teambuilding activities and a negative attitude toward work.]

I laughed.

The so-called "refusal to participate in teambuilding" referred to me declining to accompany clients to massage parlors on weekends.

The "negative attitude toward work" referred to me clocking out at 6pm sharp every day and refusing to share the boss's long-winded, sycophantic odes to the company on my social media feed.

"What are you laughing at?"

Jessica frowned, her face twisted in disdain. "Malcolm, I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you. Given that your performance has been a major drag on the company, management has decided to let you go. As for severance pay..."

She paused and flashed a fake professional smile. "The company is facing some financial difficulties right now. The boss said that since you're a senior employee, you should be understanding of our situation.

"There won't be any N+1 severance. We'll only pay your salary for this month. That's the best the company can do."

I glanced at my phone.

5:58pm; two minutes until the end of the workday.

I set down my phone, took a pen from the drawer and effortlessly signed my name on the notice. "Sure."

I slid the paper back, my tone as casual as if I were ordering takeout. "But I have one condition."

Jessica clearly had not expected me to agree so readily. She had prepared a whole speech about the struggling economy and how this was for my career growth, but the words were now stuck in her throat.

"What...What condition?" She eyed me warily. "If you're asking for money, forget it; I've got nothing to give but my own life."

"Don't be nervous." I gestured toward a money tree tucked in the corner of my workstation, along with a few rolls of toilet paper I had just collected from the admin department.

"I bought the plant myself, and I just collected the toilet paper. I'm taking them with me."

Jessica rolled her eyes so hard as if I were some unrefined beggar. "Malcolm, is this really the extent of your ambition? Take it all. Just get lost. You're an eyesore. You reek of poverty; you're ruining the company's vibe."

She snatched up the termination agreement and waved her hand dismissively, as if shooing away a fly. "Since it's signed, pack your things and get out.

"Don't bother showing up for the annual party tomorrow either; the boss wouldn't want to see someone pathetic like you."

"You got it." I stood up and stretched.

6pm sharp, the end-of-day bell rang right on cue.

I scooped up my money tree, stuffed the toilet paper into my backpack, and strode toward the exit as my colleagues watched on; their expressions ranged from complicated and sympathetic, to outright gleeful.

At the doorway, I stopped and turned back to take one last glance at Peak Performance Media, Inc. — the company where I had spent the last two years.

What a grand-sounding name.

It was too bad the office itself was tucked away in the northwest corner of the building — the spot with the absolute worst natural light.

"Jessica!" I called out.

Jessica, who was just about to head back to her office to claim credit for her victory, turned around, looking annoyed. "What now? Having second thoughts? Too late."

I grinned, revealing a set of bright white teeth. "Nothing much; just a friendly reminder. The flu's been going around, so make sure to stay warm. And..."

I gestured toward the flickering light bulb overhead. "Isn't it about time to pay the rent and property management fees? I hear the landlord has a bit of a temper. He cuts the power if you're late."

Jessica acted as if I just told the most ridiculous joke. "Malcolm, did you get your head caught in a door or something? Why are you worrying about this? You'd better worry about whether you can afford your own rent next month. What the hell does us paying the rent have to do with you?"

"Fair point."

I nodded. "I suppose it really is none of my business as an employee."

After all, I was the landlord from this moment on.

Chapter 2

After leaving the company, I did not rush to the subway station to endure the heavy rush hour traffic.

Instead, I turned around and walked into the VIP-exclusive elevator nearby, pressing the button for the top floor.

The moment the elevator door closed, I took out my phone and dialed a number. "Hello, Mr. Wilson?"

"Oh, Malcolm. No, no, no. I should be calling you Mr. Lewis."

A booming voice came through the phone. He was George Wilson, the property manager of this building, the Goldmill Building.

"How's it going? Done playing ordinary for a while?"

"Yes." I watched the elevator numbers rapidly changing, my tone calm, "I was laid off. The reason was a lack of competitiveness and inability to create value for the company."

George roared on the other end, making my ears buzz, "What? Which damn company was stupid enough to do that? How dare they fire you?

"You just finalized the paperwork yesterday to make this entire building your personal property. They have no idea who they're messing with.”

"It's okay, Mr. Wilson. Calm down." I stepped out of the elevator and stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows on the top floor, overlooking the bustling city below.

"Peak Performance Media is in Suite B on the 16th floor, right?"

"Yes, yes, yes, Fred Waller's company. That b*stard's three months behind on management fees. He keeps whining about being broke, saying they're preparing for an IPO and that the money will come soon. I think the whole company's a sham."

I laughed. It was indeed a sham. They even laid me off to save 15,000 dollars in year-end bonuses.

"Mr. Wilson, could you check when their lease expires?"

"One moment. Found it. Oh, what a coincidence? It was supposed to end at the end of the year, but they requested a one-month extension on their rent payment, claiming they were waiting for year-end receivables.

"The contract states that if they don't renew or fail to pay on time, we have the right to reclaim the property — with no liability on our part."

"What's the date today?"

"28th December."

"Perfect." I gazed at my own reflection in the window glass. I was wearing a cheap hoodie, carrying a backpack stuffed with toilet paper, and cradling a money tree that had lost half its leaves.

I certainly looked like a total loser.

Who would have guessed that this building, valued at several billion, now belonged to me?

I instructed, "Mr. Wilson, send out a notice. Peak Performance Media is in serious breach of their lease agreement; they've failed to pay both rent and property management fees.

"They're holding their annual gala tomorrow at 10am, aren't they?

"Even better; everyone will be there. Bring the security team and a technician to cut the power. We're going to give Mr. Waller a big surprise."

After hanging up, I felt a wave of satisfaction.

On my way home, I stopped by a lottery shop downstairs and bought a scratch ticket. I did not win, but that did not dampen my good mood.

I had just arrived home when my phone started buzzing incessantly with WhatsApp notifications.

It was the company group chat.

Of course, I was no longer in it, but that did not matter when I had a mole in there.

Alexis sent me a few screenshots via private message.

Group Name: Wolf-Pack Team: Peak Family (127 members)

Boss Fred: [@everyone Guys, despite the tough economy, we've streamlined our workforce and optimized our company structure. Negative influences like Malcolm have been let go.]

Boss Fred: [This isn't just about saving money; it's about keeping our revolutionary team pure. Those who remain are the company's family and wolves ready to conquer new territory alongside us.]

HR Jessica: [Brilliant, Boss. Giant babies like him who clock out the second the workday ends should have been let go a long time ago. Everyone, be on your best behavior at tomorrow's annual gala; Boss has a surprise in store for you all.]

Sales Director Hugh Lorden: [I fully support the company's decision. Let's kick off tomorrow's annual gala with a big team rally. We'll push for an IPO next year!]

Alexis sent a meme of a cat with teary eyes.

[Malcolm, they're so out of line! You've been doing the work of three people — handling admin, logistics and even fixing their computers.]

I replied with a comforting head-pat emoji.

Malcolm: [It's alright, Alexis. Just make sure to sit far away from the stage at tomorrow's annual gala.]

Alexis: [Huh? Why? I heard there's going to be a big lucky draw tomorrow!]

I smiled and replied: [Because the stage might just collapse tomorrow.]

After sending the message, I tossed my phone aside and grabbed a soda from the fridge.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow was going to be quite the spectacle.

Chapter 3

I wanted to see if Fred's pack of wolves could still howl when their cutthroat work culture collided with a tough landlord.

Peak Performance Media’s ceremony kicked off on December 29th at 10am.

The venue was in the company's large conference room. With over 100 people crowded inside, the atmosphere was stuffy and uncomfortable.

The bright red banner was glaringly striking.

[Wolf-Pack Team, Lean and Mean, Ready to Conquer 2026.]

Fred stood onstage, spitting as he spoke. "Everyone, yesterday we made a difficult decision. We laid off Malcolm Lewis to purify our team. Employees who leave work on time and are not dedicated are like cancer.

"Although there are rumors outside that our financial situation is bad and we can't afford your year-end bonus, I want to tell you all that those are all rumors."

Fred suddenly waved his hand, pointing at a pile of bright red gift boxes on the stage. "See those? They're the year-end gifts that the company prepared for everyone.

"As long as you sign this "Striver's Commitment Letter" today and voluntarily give up the weekends and overtime pay next year, everyone will get one."

The audience was grimly silent.

Alexis huddled in the corner, looking at the gifts, which contained two bags of peanuts and a bottle of generic cola.

This was their so-called New Year gift.

Standing in the front row, Jessica was decked out in a glaring red suit, looking like an overexcited flamingo.

She led the applause and screamed in a high-pitched voice, "Brilliant, Boss! Stick with Mr. Waller and next year you'll all be driving a new car! Everyone, let's hear some applause!"

The applause was sparse and anemic, as if everyone were too famished to clap.

Just then, the conference room door swung open.

"Quite a lively scene." I strode in, wearing a cheap sweatshirt with a backpack slung over my shoulders.

Behind me was the stern-looking George, followed by two rows of fully-armed security guards dressed in black.

The security guards stopped in the shadows by the entrance, so no one inside got a good look at them.

The conference room fell instantly silent as every gaze locked onto me.

"Malcolm?" Jessica was the first to react. She rushed over on her high heels, her expression shifting from sheer disbelief to thick mockery.

"How did you get in? Didn't your access card get deactivated?"

She looked me up and down before covering her mouth and bursting into laughter. "Oh, everyone, look. Isn't this the ex-employee who left with toilet paper yesterday?

"What's the matter? Did you sleep on it, realize you couldn't afford your rent, and are now having second thoughts? Are you back to beg the boss for another chance?"

Once she finished speaking, snickering was heard throughout the stifling conference room.

Hugh chimed in mockingly, "Malcolm, you young people are just too full of themselves. It's not exactly easy to find a job out there. Look at you. You hit a few walls and came crawling back, tail between your legs."

Standing on the platform, Fred looked at me with a taunting smirk. He picked up the microphone and spoke as if teasing a pet. "Oh, Jessica. Don't be so harsh. Since Malcolm's back, it means that he’s realized his mistake."

Fred strolled leisurely off the stage and came to a stop in front of me. Holding a glass of red wine, he looked condescendingly at me. "Malcolm, it's not impossible for you to return. After all, you're a senior employee here, and I'm not the type to leave a man with absolutely no way out."

He gestured toward a trash can in the corner and pointed to the peanut shells scattered all over the floor. "How about this? Clean all this up.

"Then, say this out loud three times in front of the entire company: 'I'm a man-child who can't handle the real world. I lack competitive drive and I'm grateful to Mr. Waller for giving me a job.'

"If you're sincere, I might make an exception and let you come back as a janitor. 2,500 dollars a month, with no benefits. What do you think? I'm being more than generous.”

The whole room burst out laughing.

Jessica laughed so hard she was shaking all over. "You're too kind, Boss! Even 2,500 dollars is more than he's worth. A loser like this wouldn't even be hired to sweep the streets! Hurry up, Malcolm. What are you waiting for? Hurry up and thank Mr. Waller. The broom's by the door; get to work!"

Humiliation.

Nothing but raw humiliation.

Chapter 4

They were enjoying the thrill of trampling people underfoot, as if this could somehow mask the fear of the company's impending collapse.

Alexis was so anxious that she was on the verge of tears. She motioned frantically to me to hurry up.

I looked at Fred's greasy face in amusement. "Fred."

I spoke calmly. My voice was not loud, but everyone in the room heard me clearly. "Did you misunderstand something?"

Fred froze. "Misunderstand what? That you're actually a wealthy heir? Don't kid yourself. You haven't changed your shoes for two years; why pretend?"

I shook my head. I took out a piece of paper from my backpack. It was not a resume, nor an apology letter; it was a copy of an official document bearing an embossed seal. "I'm not here to apply for a job. I'm here to inform you."

I waved the paper in my hand. "Due to Peak Performance Media, Inc.'s failure to pay three months of management fees and one month of rent, with no response to our payment demands, we are terminating the lease in accordance with the terms of the rental agreement."

I stared into Fred's eyes and uttered, "I won't rent this place to you anymore."

The air froze for three seconds.

The room erupted in even louder laughter than before.

Fred laughed so hard that tears streamed down his face. Even his finger trembled as he pointed at me. "Hahahaha! Did you all hear that? He says he's not letting me rent it anymore.

"Malcolm, have you lost your mind? Who do you think you are? The landlord of this building? If you're the landlord, then I'm Zeus!"

Jessica was doubled over with laughter. "Oh, I can't take it anymore! Malcolm, are you trying to kill me with laughter just so you can inherit my debts? If you're delusional, go get treatment; don't embarrass yourself. Security. Where's security?"

Fred waved his hand, his expression becoming ferocious. "Drag this lunatic out of here! Throw him straight onto the street. Don't let him run rampant here and ruin our team rally."

"I'd like to see who would do so." A roar echoed through the room.

From the shadows near the entrance, two rows of security guards in black marched in in perfect unison.

The heavy, rhythmic thud of their boots against the floor created an oppressive atmosphere that instantly stunned the entire room into silence.

Brandishing riot shields, the guards swiftly secured every exit to the conference room.

The employees who had been mocking me suddenly fell completely silent, as if they were chickens whose necks had been grabbed.

Jessica recoiled in terror, nearly twisting her ankle.

Flanked by the security guards, George icily stepped inside, adjusting his suit.

Fred froze. He knew exactly who George was — the head of property management for the Goldmill Building and a big shot whom he would normally need an appointment just to catch a glimpse of.

"Oh, Mr. Wilson!" Thinking his savior had arrived, Fred immediately put on a fawning expression and hurried over obsequiously.

"You've come at the perfect time! There's a fired lunatic here causing a scene. He's even masquerading as the landlord! How lawless. Have security seize him and hand him over to the police!"

Fred reached out, hoping to shake George's hand.

However, George did not even glance at him. He walked straight past Fred, as if he were merely stepping around a pile of trash.

Whilst over 100 people watched with shock, confusion and bewilderment, George walked up to me. He snapped to attention and bowed a perfect ninety-degree angle. "Mr. Lewis."

His voice was loud and resonant, echoing through the deathly silent conference room. “The maintenance team is in position. Security is in position. We're ready to clear the building. Please give us your orders.”