ALTAR OF JUSTICE My Manager Fired Me To Please The Chairwoman Daughter But He Had No Idea He Was Talking To The Real Heir

The atmosphere in the data department of Vance Corporation at 3:00 p.m. was usually drowned in the rhythmic clatter of keyboards and the frantic shuffling of files. On this particular Tuesday, that daily tranquility was shattered by a harsh, piercing slam. A thin manila folder was thrown violently onto my desk, skidding across the laminate surface. I looked up slowly, pushing my cheap, thick, black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of my nose. Standing before me was Thomas, a manager who held a mid-level title but carried himself with the unearned arrogance of a crown prince. He wore a custom-tailored gray suit with a loosely tied silk cravat, a poor attempt to pull off a high-society aesthetic. The look in his eyes held undisguised contempt.

Pack your things, Thomas barked, his voice echoing across the open-plan office. HR will send the official termination notice this afternoon. Do not bother showing up tomorrow.

His voice was loud enough for every employee in the room to hear. Curious eyes immediately darted toward my corner. There I was, an unremarkable, slight intern buried behind piles of disorganized spreadsheets. Some colleagues cast me sympathetic glances, while others smirked in amusement. In the cutthroat arena of corporate America, watching a nobody get tossed to the curb was free entertainment.

And the reason is? I asked calmly. My voice betrayed none of the panic he was so desperately hoping to see.

Thomas sneered, leaning his heavy frame forward and planting both hands firmly on my desk. The reason? Gross incompetence, sluggish performance, and severely damaging the image of this corporation. Do you think Vance Corporation is a charity running a shelter for useless drifters? He paused, lowering his voice to a menacing register. Let me be blunt with you. This is a direct order from Mia, the Chairwoman’s daughter. She took one look at your report yesterday and found it an absolute eyesore. Now, get out before I have security drag you to the curb.

Hearing Mia’s name, I couldn’t help but laugh. The light chuckle sounded incredibly out of place in the tense room. Mia was the biological daughter of Professor Sterling from his previous marriage, a man who had married my mother several years ago. She was a delusional brat whose only talents were burning through cash and parading around falsely claiming to be the heir to the Vance Empire. Thomas frowned, his face flushing with anger. He reached out, attempting to snatch the corporate ID lanyard from my neck.

What are you laughing at? Take off the badge and get out!

I swatted his hand away. The movement was light but decisive, carrying enough force to make him stumble back. Slowly, I took off the thick glasses and placed them neatly on the desk. These glasses had been my camouflage for the past three months, hiding the sharp gaze and a face deliberately kept out of the media by my mother to protect my privacy. Without the lenses, my demeanor became razor-sharp.

You say I am an embarrassment to the corporation, I repeated methodically, staring into Thomas’s wavering pupils. And you claim this is an order from the Chairwoman’s daughter. So, let me ask the Chairwoman directly and see if she is aware that her corporation has suddenly changed ownership.

Thomas burst into roaring laughter, mocking me to the breathless employees. Did you hear this lunatic? Ask the Chairwoman directly! Even division directors book appointments a month in advance. Being fired has driven you insane!

I ignored him. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a battered, screen-cracked smartphone—part of my masquerade as a struggling nobody. I accessed a highly classified encrypted app and tapped the only contact saved in the directory: Mom. I put it on speakerphone. The entire office was dead silent as a video call connected.

The image of a woman in her late fifties appeared. Her face exuded absolute authority, framed by piercing eyes and a perfectly styled updo. It was Helen Vance, the Iron Lady of Wall Street. Lisa, I am listening, she said, her voice dropping like a bomb in the room. What happened that required you to use the secure line?

Thomas’s eyes widened in sheer horror. His legs began to tremble. I maintained my casual tone. I apologize for interrupting, Chairwoman, but Manager Thomas here just informed me that my sister, Mia, wants to kick me out of my own family’s company. I just wanted to verify when an outsider with a different last name was allowed to usurp your authority.

On the screen, my mother’s eyes hardened. Who is Thomas? Put him on the screen.

I shoved the phone toward Thomas. His face was a sickly paper white. Madam Chairwoman, I am Thomas Reed, he stammered, his voice dripping with sycophancy. There has been a massive misunderstanding! I had no idea about Miss Lisa’s identity!

My mother’s voice was ice. I sent my biological daughter there as an intern to learn the ropes, not for you to trample on her. Stay exactly where you are. I am coming down personally.

The screen went black. Thomas stood rooted to the spot, beads of cold sweat drenching his forehead. He frantically snatched the termination notice off my desk, tearing it into confetti and dumping it in the trash. He began to plead, blaming Mia for everything. I simply sat down, crossed my arms, and watched his pathetic attempt to rewrite history.

Right at that moment, the click-clack of designer heels echoed from the hallway. Mia walked in, wearing a skintight red dress and carrying a six-figure Birkin bag. She marched toward my desk, oblivious to the terror in the room. Thomas, why is this piece of trash still sitting here? I told you to throw her out!

I stood up, my commanding height eclipsing hers. You call me trash, Mia? I asked. Tell me, do you have any idea whose money paid for that bag you are holding?

Mia’s face flushed scarlet. My father is a prestigious professor! I am his daughter, and I will be the legal heir! You are just a random brat! You are fired!

Since when did Vance Corporation adopt your last name? a freezing voice echoed from the doorway.

The employees parted like the Red Sea. Chairwoman Helen Vance walked in, flanked by security executives. Mia’s face drained of color. Aunt Helen! Why are you here?

In this building, you address me as Chairwoman, my mother snapped. You name yourself the heir? You fire my employees? She turned to me, her gaze softening into pride. You did excellently, Lisa. You observed the true nature of the people here.

Then, she faced the department. I am officially announcing that Lisa is my only biological daughter and the sole legal heir to Vance Corporation. There is no second in line.

Thomas collapsed to the floor. My mother wasted no time. Secretary Taylor, terminate Manager Thomas immediately. Initiate a full audit into his embezzlement. If there is fraud, hand him to the FBI. As for Mia, strip her of all titles. Reassign her to the logistics department in the basement. Her salary will be minimum wage. Zero privileges.

Following the declaration, two security guards dragged a sobbing Thomas out. Mia fell to her knees, her luxury lifestyle vanishing in an instant. My mother turned to me. As of this moment, Lisa’s internship is over. She is now Special Assistant to the CEO with full executive authority.

Before leaving, I walked over to Lily, the only intern who had dared to defend me. I placed my notebook in her hands. It contained all my core analysis of the Westside Smart City project. Keep this, Lily. We need people with talent and a clean conscience. I will be watching your career closely.

As the elevator doors closed, my mother looked at me. This is just the beginning, Lisa. Your ascension will rattle many interest groups. I nodded, fully prepared for the war ahead. My new office awaited me, along with a gold-plated nameplate: Lisa Vance.

The next day, I shed the intern look for a bespoke navy-blue suit. My first order of business was meeting Chairman Turner of Apex Capital, a titan who had seen through my undercover work. As I waited for my car at the entrance, Mia’s boyfriend, Kyle, pulled up in a flashy red sports car. He began to mock me, unaware of the shift in power. You think you own the place? Get on your knees and apologize to Mia!

I checked my Patek Philippe watch. Move out of the way. My ride is here.

Kyle laughed until a massive, midnight-black Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled into the driveway. A uniformed chauffeur stepped out and bowed deeply to me. Miss Vance, Chairman Turner sent me to escort you.

Kyle’s jaw hit the concrete as I stepped into the luxury cabin. Go home, Kyle, I said coldly. How many days your father’s company has left depends entirely on my mood.

The heavy door closed with a solid thud, leaving the fools behind as I glided toward the Apex Capital Tower. The internship was over, the masquerade was finished, and the era of Lisa Vance had officially begun. The purge of the corrupt was only a signature away.