He Called Me a Sugar Baby, So My Billionaire Dad Bought the Company

Tags: Workplace Rumors, Secret Heiress, Identity Reveal, Revenge, Satisfying Slapdown It was pouring the day I drove to work, and a male coworker spotted my car. By lunchtime, he was spreading rumors that I was a kept woman with an old sugar daddy. I confronted him right there in the office. "Did you actually see this old man?" He leaned back in his chair with a greasy smirk. "It's just a joke. Why are you being so sensitive?" I didn't argue. I just smiled. My dad always told me to stay low-key and never flaunt our wealth. The car I drove was already the most modest thing in our garage, but clearly, my family's actual wealth refused to stay hidden. Fine. No more playing modest. "How fast can you run?" I pulled out my phone and looked straight at him. "Because I'm about to have that 'sugar daddy' send ten bodyguards to rip your mouth apart." The office fell dead silent for three seconds. Harvey froze, then burst into roaring laughter, rocking back so hard his chair squeaked. "Serena, you're hilarious. Bodyguards? Does your monthly paycheck even cover one bodyguard?" He tossed his pen onto the desk and leaned forward. He dropped his voice, but kept it just loud enough for everyone around us to hear: "I'm just stating facts. A girl from an ordinary family driving that kind of ride, wearing those designer clothes—who's going to believe you bought all that yourself?" Looking at his smug, punchable face, I almost found it amusing. My dad had always preached humility. Don't show off. Keep a low profile. That was why I left the supercars sitting in our private garage and picked the most ordinary daily driver we owned. Yet here I was, accused of having a sugar daddy. Whatever. "You say so, so it's true?" I slipped my phone into my pocket and leaned against my cubicle partition. "Where's your proof?" Harvey scoffed. "Proof? Everyone in this building saw you pull up in that ride in the rain. That car easily goes for over a hundred grand. You've been here two years. You expect us to believe you bought it?" "Just because you can't afford it doesn't mean I can't drive it." "Then tell us, who bought it for you?" His eyes gleamed with a filthy spark, like he'd already directed an entire dirty drama in his head. I didn't answer. At that moment, our department manager, Faye, walked down the hall with a stern face. "What's all the noise about? Don't you people have work to do?" Harvey instantly wiped the smirk off his face, playing the nice guy. "Nothing, Faye. Just teasing Serena a bit." Faye glanced at me, then at him, her tone impatient. "Alright, get back to work. The client expects the proposal by three. Do none of you have anything better to do?" The small crowd dispersed. As Harvey brushed past my desk, he leaned in, his voice hissing like a viper: "Serena, if you can't even take a joke, you won't last long in the corporate world." I ignored him. But I knew this wouldn't end here. Sure enough. At lunch, I heard whispers from the table next to mine in the cafeteria. "Did you hear? Serena in Marketing is someone's sugar baby." "Seriously?" "Harvey said so. He saw someone drop her off in a luxury ride with his own eyes." "No wonder. Her outfits never looked cheap." "Ugh, so she's basically..." My forks tapped against the rim of my bowl with a crisp clink. I set down my forks, picked up my tray, and walked right over to their table. The two girls from HR had been gossiping enthusiastically. When they saw me, their faces froze, the words dying in their throats. "What are we talking about?" I smiled slightly. "Sounds fun. Mind sharing?" One of the girls gave an awkward laugh. "Nothing... just talking about a TV show." "Oh," I nodded. "What show? Does the lead happen to be Harvey?" The two exchanged terrified looks, their cheeks burning bright red. I didn't push further. I turned and walked away. It wasn't that I didn't want to blow up. Blowing up right now was useless. When dealing with rumor-mongers, the more frantic you get, the more validated they feel. I needed a better plan. That afternoon, while editing my proposal, my phone buzzed. It was a text on SnapChat from my college roommate, Claire: "Serena, are you trending in office gossip? My bestie works in the building next to yours, and she said people are saying you have a sugar daddy." I stared at the screen for two seconds before typing back: "News travels fast." "Want me to cuss them out for you?" "No need. I've got this." "Cool. If you need backup, call me anytime." I set the phone down and tapped my fingers on the desk. In just one afternoon, the rumor had already crossed over to the neighboring tower. Harvey's mouth was faster than a company-wide WhatsApp blast. When I walked into the parking garage after work, I spotted Harvey leaning against my car, snapping photos with his phone. Catching sight of me, he even waved his phone smugly. "Hey Serena, help me write a caption. How about 'Luxury ride gifted by an old man on a stormy day'?" I walked up and snatched the phone straight out of his hand. He blinked in shock. "What the hell are you doing?" "Deleting photos.""On what grounds? I took them!" "Taking pictures of my car without my consent violates my privacy." I deleted the photos and tossed the phone back at him. "Try that again, and next time, I won't just delete your pictures. I'll delete you." Harvey caught the phone, his face flickering with irritation before settling back into that shameless smirk. "Aw, getting defensive? Feeling guilty, are we?" I looked at him, suddenly finding it pathetic. "Harvey, do you realize some people stay low-key not because they're guilty, but because they simply can't be bothered with someone like you?" "Unfortunately," I pulled open my car door, "today, I feel like bothering." Getting into the driver's seat, I pulled out my phone and texted my dad on SnapChat: "Dad, I might need to borrow a car from the garage." Three seconds later, he replied: "Which one?" "The least subtle one." My phone immediately rang. "Serena, what happened?" My dad sounded calm, but I could hear a faint trace of excitement beneath his voice. He had spent his entire life dominating the business world. Having finally raised a daughter, he usually treated me like fragile porcelain. Hearing that someone was bullying his little girl probably thrilled him more than closing a billion-dollar deal. "Someone at work is smearing my name," I said simply. "Name." "Harvey Miller." "Where does he work?" "Same company as me. Marketing." The line went quiet for two seconds before my dad asked a question that made me laugh: "Do you want me to just buy your company? Save you the headache." "Dad, that's completely unnecessary," I rubbed my temples. "I can handle it myself. I just need you to play along." "Tell me." "Tomorrow morning, have Luke drive me to work." Luke had been our family driver for twenty years. Ex-military, six-foot-two, shaved head, with a jagged scar across his face. He looked like a gentle giant when he smiled, but when he didn't, he looked like the boss of an organized crime syndicate. My dad understood instantly. "Take that car?" "Yeah." "Done." My dad chuckled like a sly old fox. "What time tomorrow?" "Eight-thirty, right in front of the main entrance." "Alright. I'll have Luke get there early." I hung up and pulled out of the garage. Harvey was still standing there, watching my taillights fade with a triumphant grin on his face. He probably thought he'd won this round. That was fine. Tomorrow, I'd show him what an actual sugar daddy looked like. At 8:15 the next morning, a sleek black Maybach pulled up smoothly in front of the office building. Luke was dressed in a sharp black suit and dark sunglasses, standing beside the vehicle with an expression colder than the building's biometric security gates. As I stepped out of the passenger side, Luke held the door for me, bowing slightly. "Miss Hayes, we have arrived." "Thank you, Luke." I grabbed my bag and headed toward the entrance. As I passed the front desk, the security guard peeked out, his mouth dropping wide open. Before stepping into the elevator, I glanced back. The Maybach was still parked out front. Luke leaned against the door frame, his gaze behind the dark lenses sweeping across the crowd like a living surveillance camera. That single scene was enough to fire up the gossip engines across the entire building. Sure enough, by nine o'clock, the company WhatsApp was already buzzing. My department's internal group remained quiet, but the expressions on the HR girls' faces said it all. The way they looked at me had shifted—from mocking amusement to complete bewilderment. At nine-thirty, Harvey arrived. As he stepped into the marketing floor, his stride visibly faltered. He had probably overheard the chatter in the lobby. Still, he quickly slipped back into his cocky swagger. Passing my cubicle, he deliberately slowed down, leaning close to my ear: "Swapped rides today, huh? A Maybach... nice flex. Your old man is really treating you well." I didn't look up, keeping my eyes glued to my monitor. "How do you know it's an old man?" "Who else would it be?" "Could it be my dad?" Harvey let out a dry scoff dripping with disdain. "Your dad? Please, I know your background. At that team dinner, you said your family's from a small town running a mom-and-pop shop. Cut the act."I finally looked up at him. He was leaning against my cubicle partition, arms crossed, eyes smug, sporting a greasy smirk. His face was begging for a reality check. "Harvey." I stood up, pushing my chair back into place. "Believe me or not, with one phone call, you could know my family's exact net worth in ten minutes." He rolled his eyes. "Right, right, you're so powerful, whatever." He turned and strutted off, acting like he was too grand to waste his breath on me. I didn't make the call. Not because I couldn't, but because it wasn't time. Real revenge isn't about bragging about how rich you are; it's about making him pay dearly for that filthy mouth of his. At ten, Faye called me into her office. "Serena, there are rumors going around. I assume you've heard?" I nodded. "What's your take on this?" Faye leaned back in her chair, her face unreadable. "Faye, do you believe them?" She paused. "I don't. But you know how corporate works. Rumors hurt the company's image. Do you have a way to prove your innocence?" I let out a soft laugh. "Prove my innocence? Faye, why should the victim have to provide proof? The person spreading lies should be the one backing them up." Faye rubbed her forehead. "I know, but you know what Harvey is like. He's got a loose tongue and takes zero responsibility. If you butt heads with him directly, you're the one who suffers." "Faye," I met her gaze, "don't worry. I'm not going to butt heads with him. I'm going to let him dig his own grave." Faye studied me for a quiet moment, then sighed. "Just be smart about it. Don't cross the line." Leaving her office, I returned to my desk and opened my laptop, pulling up my work logs from the past six months. Harvey hadn't just started making up rumors yesterday. Before me, he had targeted a quiet girl in HR, claiming she slept her way into the company. She was gentle and timid. After enduring months of whispers and dirty jokes, she finally broke down and resigned. This time, targeting me, he had picked the wrong victim. While digging through files, my phone buzzed again. It was a SnapChat from Luke: "Miss Hayes, a guy was taking pictures by the car downstairs. I stopped him. Should I take care of it?" I replied: "Snap a photo of him and keep it safe." "Copy that." Ten minutes later, Luke sent over a picture. In the photo, Harvey was crouched beside the Maybach, his phone angled toward the license plate, wearing an expression like he'd just uncovered the scoop of the century. I saved the photo. The real show was just getting started. At lunch, I skipped the cafeteria and had Luke deliver a meal prepared by our private estate chef: black truffle roasted chicken, steamed sea bass, and a delicate dessert. While I was eating in the break room, Harvey walked in carrying a cup of instant noodles. Catching sight of my lunch containers, his eyes narrowed. "Expensive takeout, huh? Black truffles? Your boyfriend really spoils you." "My dad sent it," I said, picking up a piece of fish with my forks. "Oh, give me a break." Harvey peeled back the foil lid of his noodles. "Your dad runs a small grocery shop in a tiny town. He cooks gourmet black truffles?" "Who says a small shop can't sell good food?" "Stop playing dumb with me." "I'm not." I set my forks down and looked straight at him. "Harvey, have you ever considered the possibility that everything I say is the truth, and you're just too blind to believe it?" He sneered. "Then prove it." "I don't need to prove anything to you." "Because you're guilty." "Sure." I stood up, packing up my containers. "Whatever helps you sleep at night." "Hey, don't run away!" Harvey shouted after me. "Guilty already? Walking away the second someone calls you out?" I didn't look back. As I stepped out of the break room, I heard a loud *bang* behind me—Harvey slammed his fist on the table, spilling hot noodle broth all over his hand. A faint smile touched the corner of my lips. At two in the afternoon, the floor suddenly erupted. The front desk receptionist burst into the office, her voice sharper than a fire alarm: "Serena! Your... your dad sent afternoon tea for the whole office!"Every single head in the department snapped up. Before I could even react, a group of people marched in from the elevator lobby. Leading the pack was Luke, impeccably suited, carrying several bags stamped with the logo of a world-renowned three-star Michelin restaurant. Behind him were three more men in sharp black suits, each holding towering stacks of luxury boxes, moving with military precision. And walking behind them all was my dad. Arthur Hayes, fifty-six, Chairman and CEO of Hayes Enterprise. He wore a tailored charcoal cashmere overcoat, his hair neatly styled, the watch on his wrist catching the office fluorescent lights with quiet authority. That watch was a Patek Philippe Grand Complications. I didn't know the exact model number, but I knew it cost more than Harvey's entire projected lifetime earnings. My dad stepped into the center of the office, glanced around, and smiled. I knew that smile all too well. It was the exact smile he wore in the boardroom when he backed his competitors into a corner. "Pardon the interruption, everyone. I'm Serena Hayes's father." He stood tall, his voice smooth and measured, yet carrying across the entire floor. "I heard some people here have been taking 'special care' of my daughter lately, so I came personally to express my gratitude." He paused, his gaze sweeping across the stunned faces, locking with pinpoint accuracy onto Harvey. Harvey was standing frozen by his cubicle, holding an insulated tumbler, looking like he'd been turned to stone. "It's just a modest afternoon tea. One for everyone. Please, enjoy." My dad stepped aside, and Luke immediately signaled the three men in suits to begin distributing the packages. At every single cubicle, they placed an artisan coffee, a box of delicate French macarons, a jar of rare honey, and a handwritten card. The card was embossed with the golden crest of Hayes Enterprise. I glanced at the box opened by the coworker next to me. The honey was a limited-edition French artisanal brand, retailing for four figures a jar. The entire floor was dead silent. Everyone stared at the logo on the card, then darted covert, wide-eyed glances at me. My dad walked over to my desk and gave my shoulder an affectionate pat. "Serena, Dad's here." "Dad, you're being ridiculous," I muttered under my breath, though warmth blossomed in my chest. "What's ridiculous about it?" My dad said casually, projecting his voice just enough. "My daughter works hard here. What kind of father would I be if I didn't treat her team to snacks?" Faye hurried out of her office. Having clearly caught wind of what was happening, her face was a mix of shock and caution. She quickly extended her hand. "Hello, Mr. Hayes. I'm Faye Reynolds, the Marketing Director. Serena is an exceptional performer on our team." My dad shook her hand firmly. "Director Reynolds, thank you for guiding her. Serena has been spoiled by me since she was little. If she ever falls short, please bear with her." "Not at all, she's wonderful." Faye's smile was stiff, her eyes darting repeatedly between my dad and the men in suits behind him. Her brain was undoubtedly racing: *Hayes Enterprise? That Hayes Enterprise?!* My dad didn't linger. Once the boxes were handed out, he stepped closer to me and whispered, "Stand tall when you need to, sweetie. Dad's got your back." With that, he turned and walked out. Luke trailed behind him, pausing at the threshold to cast a single, chilling glance back at Harvey. Just one glance. *Clang!* Harvey's tumbler slipped from his grip, hitting the edge of the desk, drenching his trousers in hot tea. The second the elevator doors slid shut, the entire marketing floor exploded into absolute chaos. "Hayes Enterprise? The real estate and tech giant Hayes Enterprise?!" "Oh my god, Serena is Arthur Hayes's daughter?!" "Look at this honey... I saw it in Vogue! It's four hundred dollars a jar!" "One for every person in the department... How much did this even cost?!" "No wonder she drives that car..." "Wait, so that whole sugar daddy thing..." Dozens of accusing eyes turned simultaneously toward Harvey. Harvey's face alternated between bright red and pale white. His lips trembled, but not a single sound came out. He looked like he was desperately trying to speak, but his throat was completely choked up. I turned toward him with a cool, effortless smile. "Harvey, didn't you ask me to prove it?" "Is this proof enough for you?" His jaw worked uselessly before he forced a smile that looked more painful than weeping. "Serena... I... I was really just joking around before. Please don't take it to heart."