A New Hire Booked My Luxury Napa Estate For $150 — So I Had Her Arrested Chapter 04
Seeing that I wasn’t reacting, Tiffany assumed she’d bullied me into submission.
She turned around and started painting a glowing picture of the retreat on Slack.
“Guys, all-you-can-pick fruit! Seasonal cherries, strawberries—unlimited!!”
“BBQ ingredients on the estate! Steak, lamb skewers, lobster, oysters—the full spread!!”
“Any requests, just let me know~ Tiffany’s got you.”
Slack blew up the moment she posted.
A parade of ass-kissing followed:
“OMG Tiffany you’re literally the best!! Way better than the old routine!”
“Lobster BBQ??? This is a huge upgrade from whatever Elena used to arrange!”
“Tiffany for employee of the year.”
Even the boss dropped three thumbs-up emojis.
Compliments kept flooding in, emojis and rainbow flattery drowning out the channel.
Tiffany posted a coy hand-over-mouth emoji:
“Just glad everyone’s happy~ These are all things I should be doing.”
I gave a bitter smile, packed up my things, and went home.
…
The second day of my administrative leave, I didn’t go to the office.
But Tiffany messaged me first thing in the morning.
“Elena! Since you’re not at work, you must be prepping the estate for the retreat, right?”
“Thanks for the hard work! Make sure everything’s ready—give the boss and everyone the best experience!!”
I read the message and, unable to hold it in any longer, replied:
“I told you—we cannot accommodate!”
Then I blocked her number.
What I didn’t expect was that shortly after, the estate’s longtime manager, Uncle Ray, called.
“Ms. Ashford! We’ve got a problem!”
“Over a hundred people showed up first thing this morning, said they were from your company—they just barged onto the property!”
I snapped fully awake.
Uncle Ray’s voice was rising with urgency:
“Mr. Whitaker was scheduled for a private U-pick this morning. He stepped out of the villa and there were people everywhere.”
“His face went dark—”
I closed my eyes, keeping my voice steady.
“Ray, calm Mr. Whitaker down first, then get those people off the property.”
I hung up and sat at the edge of the bed to collect myself.
I’d barely taken a few sips of coffee when Uncle Ray called again, this time with anger and heartbreak in his voice.
“Ms. Ashford, they’re completely out of control! My staff tried to communicate—they won’t listen!”
“They rushed into the cherry orchard, ripping unripe green cherries off the branches by the handful! They’ve trampled dozens of the new saplings we planted this year!”
I gripped the phone tight.
Those saplings were varieties I’d handpicked myself—imported rootstock from Italy. The propagation alone had taken half a year.
Uncle Ray paused, then lowered his voice.
“And a girl named Tiffany—she just shattered Mr. Whitaker’s bottle of Romanée-Conti.”
I drew a deep breath and calmly instructed Uncle Ray:
“Ray, pull all the security footage from the property. Save every second.”
“I’m calling the police now.”
I hung up and dialed 911.
Moments later, my phone started vibrating wildly.
An unknown number.
I picked up.
On the other end, Tiffany’s voice, practically shrieking:
“Elena! Where are you?! The whole company just got hauled off by the sheriff!!”
—
