Stripped by the Floor Manager，Little Did She Know, My Dad Owns the Bank

I was sitting on the lobby couch, waiting for my dad—the bank's president—to finish work. In my hands, I was quietly playing with a collectible model sports car. Out of nowhere, the floor manager stormed over. With one violent smack, she knocked the car model right out of my hands, pointing a manicured finger directly in my face. "This is a bank, not a daycare! It’s because of trash like you that our thirty-million-dollar VIP client just walked out in disgust!" I held my stinging hand, shaking my head in tears. "I’ve been quiet the whole time. I didn't do anything..." "Still playing the innocent victim?" She let out a harsh scoff, grabbing my collar with a cruel twist. "Look at you, dressed in fancy clothes like some high-end escort trying to land a Wall Street sugar daddy! I should call the cops and find out which escort agency you crawled out of!" Tears welled up in my eyes from the pain. Shaking, I dialed my dad's number. "Dad... your employee just hit me." My dad was in a board meeting and didn’t pick up. The floor manager, Naomi Perez, sneered. Before I could hit redial, she snatched the phone right out of my hand. Her long, razor-sharp acrylic nails scraped across the back of my hand, leaving a deep, bloody scratch. "Smash!" She hurled my phone straight onto the hard marble floor, shattering it into pieces. I bit my lip so hard I could taste blood, forcing my tears back. This was the first flagship branch my dad had opened in New York. If I made a scene and cried in the lobby, it would bring bad luck to the grand opening. My dad loved me so much. I couldn’t ruin his big day. Suppressing the pain, I whispered, "Ma'am, I really wasn't being loud..." "'Ma'am'?!" The word set her off like a bomb. Naomi's face twisted into an ugly mask, her heavy foundation cracking with rage. "Who the hell are you calling 'Ma'am', you little brat?! Do I look old to you?! Are you trying to piss me off on purpose?!" She raised her stiletto heel, aiming straight for the model car on the floor. "No! Stop!" I screamed. Last month was my fifteenth birthday. My dad knew how much I loved sports cars, so he had pulled strings overseas to get this for me. It was a limited edition—only ten existed in the world. "Crunch!" Under her heel, the delicate car model shattered into tiny, irreparable fragments. My heart shattered with it. I lunged forward and shoved her away. "That was my birthday gift! It's irreplaceable!" Stumbling back two steps, Naomi flared with humiliation. She swung her foot and kicked me straight in the chest. "A piece of cheap plastic! How precious could it possibly be?!" I collapsed onto the floor, the wind knocked out of me. The pain was so intense I couldn't sit up. The noise drew the attention of clients in the lobby. A crowd quickly gathered. "What's going on? Why is she hitting that girl?" Instantly, Naomi put on a show of tears and righteous fury, pointing accusingly at me. "Don't blame me! We had a massive high-net-worth client ready to deposit thirty million dollars!" "Then this little tramp, dressed like a club girl, started posing and flirting with him!" "Our VIP saw this cheap circus, thought our bank had zero standards, and walked right out!" The whispers in the crowd instantly flipped. "Unbelievable. Girls these days will do anything for money..." "She looks so young and innocent, but she's completely rotten inside." The murmurs crashed over me like tidal waves. The pity in their eyes turned into pure disgust and cold disdain. Just then, the crowd parted. Ryan Scott, the vice president, walked over with a storm on his face. He had heard the commotion from upstairs. "What is all this shouting about?! Do you think this is a flea market?!" Seeing him, Naomi acted as if her savior had arrived. She rushed over, wiping fake tears. "Ryan, you have to help me! Marcus Vance from the Vance Group was about to sign a thirty-million deposit! But because this little slut tried to seduce him, he stormed off furious! We just lost our biggest deal of the quarter!" The Vance Group? I gasped, struggling to push myself up from the cold floor. "Marcus Vance is my uncle! Why would I ever seduce him?!""Still lying?! You dare claim you're related to him?!" Naomi didn't listen to a single word. Her spit practically flew into my face. "A billionaire like Marcus Vance having an escort like you in his family? At least come up with a believable lie!" Hearing that, Ryan’s face turned darker than a thundercloud. Losing a thirty-million-dollar deposit was a career-ending disaster in private banking. He turned his gaze toward me, his eyes cutting like daggers. "It was you?" "Sir, it wasn't me..." "Shut up!" Ryan waved his hand in complete annoyance, cutting me off. "I don't care who you are. Causing a scene and costing us a VIP client is unacceptable. Security! Throw her out on the street!" Naomi clung to his arm, leaning in close. "Ryan, we can't just let her off the hook that easily!" "She cost us thirty million! She has to pay for the damage!" Ryan frowned. "How?" Naomi’s eyes flickered with malice. "Look at her clothes. Designer head to toe. That's a real Hermès bag on the table. She must be playing multiple sugar daddies to get that kind of cash!" "She ruined our business today. We should make her compensate us!" "And if she can't pay, we lock her up right here and make her parents bring cash to bail her out!" "I'd love to see what kind of trash parents raised a home-wrecking slut like this!" Ryan hesitated. Holding a kid hostage crossed a line. Naomi stroked his arm, her voice turning sweet and cloying. "Ryan, sweetie... I'm doing this for the bank’s bottom line. Just trust me on this..." She leaned closer, whispering into his ear, "Once we squeeze the money out of her... tonight, in your car at the parking garage... I’ll do whatever you want." A greasy spark ignited in Ryan’s eyes. He slapped her backside. "Fine! Handle it your way!" Given the green light, Naomi smirked with triumph. She walked over, grabbed my Hermès bag, and dumped everything onto the coffee table. Notebooks, two plush keychains, and a sleek black titanium card spilled out. Naomi’s sharp eyes caught the card immediately. She picked it up, inspected it, and burst into laughter. "Look at this! She really is an escort—she even carries a fake Centurion card!" "That's my card! Give it back!" I shouted in a panic. Ignoring me, Naomi held the card up to Ryan like a trophy. "Look at this joke, Ryan!" Ryan took the card. But the moment his eyes landed on the gold-embossed "Sterling Trust Bank" crest and the unique, single-digit serial number, his body froze solid. Someone in the crowd gasped. "Wait... isn't that the Sterling Sovereign Black Card?" "The Sovereign Card? The one that requires a hundred-million liquid net worth, with only five issued in the entire world?!" "My God, I read about that! That card gives unlimited liquidity access to the Sterling family's private vaults. Only the top global elite have one!" "How... how does a teenager have that?!"Wiping my tears, I took Ryan's phone and punched in a number. Watching me, Ryan sneered, "Still playing games? That is not President Sterling's private line!" I sniffled. "This is my mom..." My mom was a legendary Olympic champion. My dad spent years, traveling across the world, just to win her heart. The day she said yes, my dad was so ecstatic he cried like a kid. He wanted to scream it to the entire world that he had married the woman of his dreams. But my mom hated the spotlight. To respect her wishes, my dad kept their marriage strictly confidential from the press. Mom also said our daughter shouldn’t grow up under paparazzi flashes. Dad obeyed completely. From the day I was born, my identity had been hidden behind ironclad security. The call went through, but only an automated voice answered. "The number you have dialed is currently unavailable..." I froze. Then it hit me—Mom had an international tournament this week and was flying back today. She was still ten thousand feet in the air. "What? Nobody picked up?" Naomi laughed mockingly. "Let me guess, your 'champion mom' is on a private jet right now?" My eyes burned red. "I'll... I'll call my dad..." Ryan watched my fingers tap another number. "That's not his office line either!" "It's his personal family phone, not his work phone..." I whispered timidly. Ryan waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, right. Let's see how long you can keep up this act!" The phone rang twice, then abruptly clicked off. He hung up. My face went pale. I tried again. Declined immediately. Naomi doubled over laughing. "This is priceless!" "Claims to be President Sterling's daughter, yet the man won't even pick up her call!" Ryan breathed a sigh of relief, smirking. "Just another scammer." His eyes drifted down my body with gross curiosity. "Pretty face, though. Which agency do you work for?" Seeing Ryan check me out, Naomi’s jealousy flared. Her glare turned murderous. "Enough games. Let's talk about repayment!" Sensing danger, I backed away. "No..." "Your phone is broken, and your parents can't be reached," Naomi purred coldly. "Luckily, you're wearing designer clothes." "That top is worth at least a couple thousand, right? The pants too." "Strip them off. Every single piece stays here to cover the debt!" My eyes went wide in sheer horror. Naomi snapped her fingers. "Security! Strip her clothes off!" Two guards walked over. Hearing that they had to strip a young girl in public, they looked at each other, hesitating. Naomi snarled, "Are you deaf?! Disobey me, and you're both fired by morning!" Cornered, the guards gave me apologetic looks and stepped forward. I clutched my shirt tightly, trembling in absolute despair. "Dad... Mom..." "Save me..." "Mr. Vance! Mr. Vance is back!" A shout echoed from the lobby entrance. Naomi gasped with delight. "He came back to deposit the money?!" "No! Mr. Vance says he's here to pick up his niece!"