Fired? Screw It I'm RICH!
After being fired by Ascend Group with a paltry severance, top salesman Marcus Carter discovers thirty million credited to him due to the CEO’s nepotistic finance choices. Determined to return it, he faces suspicion and disbelief from a company convinced he’s running off with the money. What happens when honesty meets greed and pride?
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The Call That Shattered Family Peace
A quiet rural home, red lanterns glowing—then *ring*. The moment Ye Zong answers Ms. Yates, the air turns electric. His parents’ faces freeze. That phone call isn’t just business—it’s the detonator for everything he thought he knew. 'Fired? Screw It—I'm RICH!' hits harder when your roots are still in the soil. 🌶️
Two Worlds, One Phone Screen
He stands in a courtyard draped with ‘Fu’ charms; she’s in a glass tower overlooking a city that doesn’t know her name. Same call. Same voice. But his knuckles whiten; hers smirks like she’s already won. The contrast isn’t just visual—it’s emotional warfare. 'Fired? Screw It—I'm RICH!' feels less like triumph, more like exile. 📱🔥
Mom’s Hands Say More Than Words
While he debates on the phone, her clasped hands tremble—not from fear, but from recognition. She knows that tone. That pause. That distant look. She’s seen this before: ambition wearing a smile, leaving love behind. No dialogue needed. Just a red sweater, floral beads, and silent devastation. 'Fired? Screw It—I'm RICH!' sounds hollow when home is watching you leave. 💔
The Power Play in Red Satin
Her crimson blazer isn’t fashion—it’s armor. Every blink, every tilt of the head, she’s recalibrating power dynamics mid-call. Background assistant? Just set dressing. This isn’t negotiation; it’s coronation. And somewhere, a man in a beige jacket stares at his screen like he’s just realized the throne has no seatbelt. 'Fired? Screw It—I'm RICH!'—but who’s really holding the keys? 🔑
When the Screen Goes Black…
He ends the call. Stares at the lock screen—11:09 AM, a photo of them all smiling last Lunar New Year. Then he crushes the phone against the wall. Not rage. Relief. Or maybe surrender. The sparks flying off her blouse later? Mirrored. They’re both burning bridges—but only one gets to watch the flames from a penthouse. 'Fired? Screw It—I'm RICH!' is the anthem of the broken, not the blessed. 🕊️