Chapter 3
The next day, the moment I stepped into the office, I could feel that invisible pressure hanging over me.
The air felt thick, heavy with malice and prying eyes.
Someone had dumped a cup of cold coffee all over my desk.
The brown liquid snaked across the surface in ugly patterns, soaking a few documents until they were warped and ruined.
Some coworkers pretended not to see anything, while others didn't even bother to hide their mocking stares.
Whispers buzzed around me like flies, impossible to ignore.
"Who would've guessed? She always put on that holier-than-thou act."
"That Audi A7 is gotta be at least dozens of grand."
"She climbed up real quick. Wonder what positions she used to get there."
Those words stung even more than the cold coffee on my desk.
I ignored them, quietly pulling out some tissues from my drawer and wiping the mess off my desk.
To them, my silence just meant I was admitting everything and too weak to fight back.
John called me into his office.
He slammed a thick stack of files down on the desk with a loud bang.
"Emily, these are the materials for the project in the west district. I want a full market analysis report on my desk before you leave today," he said.
I stared at the mountain of files and couldn't help but scoff inwardly.
This was an impossible workload, and no one could finish it.
He wasn't even pretending anymore. This was just his way of pushing me out.
"Got it, Mr. Smith," I replied.
I didn't protest, just accepted the assignment quietly.
Not long after, Richard's secretary called me in to his office.
I pushed open the heavy wooden door and saw Richard sitting in his leather executive chair.
He had that fake, pitying look plastered all over his face.
"Emily, I know it must have been tough on you yesterday," he said.
He let out a sigh, acting all conflicted.
"You know how Linda is. She's got a temper, but she doesn't mean any real harm."
"But with all the gossip flying around the office, it's not good for you, and it's not good for the company's reputation either."
After all that dancing around, he finally got to the point.
"How about you take some time off? Or... the company could give you a severance package if you resign voluntarily. It's the best solution for everyone."
This was the executioner's last act of mercy.
First, he dragged me through the mud in front of everyone, then tried to play the good guy with his fake concern, acting like he was doing me a favor.
I stared at his calculating face, feeling nothing but boredom and emptiness.
"Mr. Grant, I'm not quitting," I said.
My tone was calm, but my resolve was rock solid.
"I'll get the work done on time. If that's all, I'll get back to it."
With that, I turned and walked out of the office before he could say another word.
I caught a flicker of panic in his eyes.
Maybe he never expected me to stand my ground like this.
For the rest of the day, I buried myself in work.
Analyzing data, organizing reports, and drafting proposals, I tuned out all the cold stares and snide remarks around me.
Five minutes before quitting time, I dropped a nearly hundred-page report, packed with solid data and crystal-clear logic, right onto John's desk.
His face was a picture of disbelief.
The next day at the department meeting, John shamelessly claimed my report was under his guidance and a team effort from the whole department.
He stood in front of the projector, reading straight from the slides, looking all smug and full of himself.
That was, until I casually brought up a question about a critical cost figure in the report.
"Mr. Smith, about the lead conversion cost on page 17 of section three, you mentioned 3.5%, but that's not what our market research shows. Could you walk us through how you got that number?" I asked.
His speech came to an abrupt halt.
Beads of sweat popped up on his forehead.
He stammered, unable to get a single coherent sentence out.
He hadn't even bothered to actually read the report.
Everyone in the conference room stared at him, an awkward silence hanging in the air.
In the end, he just scrambled for an excuse about discussing it after the meeting and rushed to wrap things up, desperate to escape the embarrassment.
After the meeting, people looked at me with newfound respect and even a touch of awe.
This time, I crushed them with my skills and slapped their faces hard.
That afternoon, Sophie hurried over when no one was watching and slipped a USB drive into my hand.
"Emmy, I stumbled on this by accident. It's Mr. Grant's travel expense reports from the last few months. There's something fishy. Every payment went to the same company."
Her eyes were sharp, filled with nerves and a fierce sense of justice.
I gripped the USB tight, the cold plastic feeling heavy with significance.
"Thanks, Sophie," I said.
"Just be careful, okay?" she said, shooting me a worried glance before hurrying off.
I watched her leave, and for a moment, it actually warmed me up inside.
Even in this cold, concrete jungle, not everyone was out for blood.