Chapter 3

Wednesday afternoon, two NYPD detectives showed up right on schedule.

They didn't bother keeping their voices down. The entire floor heard words like "electronic evidence" and "sexual harassment allegations." Brad's face flushed crimson first, then drained to white.

The detectives seized his work computer and phone, sealing them in evidence bags right in front of everyone.

Jessica stood in her cubicle, fingers gripping the edge of her desk so tight her knuckles went pale.

When she looked at me, there was no panic in her eyes. Only hatred.

I knew the real war had just begun.

I was right.

Over the next forty-eight hours, the office turned into a battlefield.

Brad's access was temporarily suspended, but he didn't back down.

Wednesday night, a post appeared on the anonymous company message board. Title: The Truth About a Certain Intern.

The post was stuffed with forged chat screenshots—"flirtatious conversations" between me and Richard, emails of me "selling myself" to other clients, even a document claiming to be from Brooklyn Community Clinic about my "psychiatric history."

Every single line was fake.

But nobody cared.

Thursday morning, passing the break room, I caught a conversation:

"Her mom's bipolar. Genetic, probably."

"Figures. You know how it is with scholarship cases."

I didn't stop walking. I returned to my desk, opened my laptop, and kept organizing my evidence list.

Elena messaged: [Forensics confirmed the photos are AI-generated. Source files contain metadata showing creation time Monday 11 PM. Keep collecting.]

I replied: [Got it.]

Three o'clock, I got up to grab coffee from the break room.

The moment I pushed the door open, Brad turned around from inside. Two of his usual cronies stood behind him.

The door closed behind me.

The break room was small—one window, a security camera in the corner with its red light blinking.

"Harper." Brad's voice was soft, but every word carried venom. "You're clever. But you don't understand the rules."

He took a step forward.

"Tomorrow at Town Hall, David's announcing your performance review failed. Then you'll disappear. Like you were never here." He stopped right in front of me, pointing at my messenger bag.

"Give me your phone. I know you've been recording."

I didn't move.

"Before you touch my stuff," I said, "look behind you."

Brad froze, then slowly turned his head.

The red indicator light was still blinking.

His hand hung in midair, his face turning ashen.

"You—"

He lunged for my bag, trying to rip it off my shoulder. I stepped back. He came at me.

I pulled the pepper spray from my pocket and pressed the trigger straight at his face.

"Ahhh—!"

Brad let out a short, strangled scream and collapsed to his knees, hands covering his eyes. The two guys behind him stood frozen.

I yanked my phone from my bag and dialed security.

A shrill alarm pierced through the entire floor. Within a minute, security and David burst into the break room.

"Harper!" David stared at Brad on the ground, then pointed at me, his voice shaking. "You assaulted a colleague in the office?!"

"When I was being slandered, you told me to shut up." I looked at him, voice calm. "Now I'm being physically threatened and someone tried to grab my phone. I defended myself. And you're calling it assault?"

I pointed at the camera overhead. "The footage is right there. He made the first move. I've already filed a supplemental police report with NYPD."

David's face turned an ugly shade of red.

"Harper," he said through clenched teeth, "your behavior is a serious violation of company policy. I'm officially notifying you—you're suspended. Tomorrow at Town Hall, you will explain your actions in front of the entire company."

"Great."

I turned and walked toward the door without looking back.

"I'll explain everything tomorrow."

That "tomorrow" came fast.

Friday, 2 PM. The main auditorium at Apex Capital.

It was the company's largest tiered conference room. Over two hundred seats packed full, people standing in the back.

On the massive screen at the front, the Asia-Pacific President from the London office and several core partners were joining via video link.

Jessica sat in the first row, wearing a perfectly tailored white suit. Her expression was relaxed, like a judge waiting to pronounce victory.

David stood by the podium, holding a document.

I glanced at the header—Termination Notice.

"Everyone," David cleared his throat, "before we begin the internship program debrief, there's one matter we need to address first."

He turned his gaze to me, eyes icy. "Given the series of serious incidents this week that have damaged the firm's reputation, Harper, you need to provide an explanation to everyone here, and to the partners online."

The room fell silent.

Everyone was watching me. Some faces wore contempt, some were waiting for a spectacle, most just stared at their phone screens with indifference.

I stood up and walked to the podium.

I had no notes. Just a silver USB drive in my hand.

I walked to the computer, bent down, and plugged the drive into the port. The screen flickered.

I turned around, hands braced on the edge of the podium, eyes sweeping across every face in the audience before landing on Jessica and Brad.

Jessica's smile stiffened.

Brad kept his head down, one eye still swollen.

"Since everyone's so interested in my private life," I said, "let's all take a good look together today."

I hit Enter.

The big screen lit up.

"I'm here to prove," my voice echoed through the conference room, "just how dirty some of you really are."