Chapter 4
The next morning, the rain had cleared, leaving the sky a bruised violet over the city.
James picked me up exactly at seven.
For the first time in two months, the back seat was entirely mine. No smell of Trevor’s cheap cologne. No sound of Brianna complaining about carbs. No Lauren pretending to fall asleep on my shoulder.
It was bliss.
The moment I walked into the office, the atmosphere changed.
Conversations stopped.
Keyboards fell silent.
As I reached my cubicle, I noticed a sheet of paper taped to my monitor.
SCAMMER.
I peeled it off, crushed it in my hand, and tossed it into the recycling bin.
Before I could even sit down, my department director hurried toward me.
His name was Simon, and he was the kind of middle manager who sweated under heavy air conditioning and feared anything that smelled remotely like conflict.
“Chloe,” he said in a hushed voice, “my office. Now.”
I followed him into his glass-walled office. He shut the door and pulled the blinds.
“What is going on out there?” he demanded, dragging a hand over his thinning hair. “Trevor and Brianna filed a formal complaint against you this morning.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Did they?”
“Yes. They’re claiming you’re operating an illegal, unlicensed taxi service on company property and extorting your coworkers.”
I said nothing.
“They told HR you lured them in with a low rate, made them dependent on the arrangement, and then quadrupled the price when they refused to do your project work for you.”
I almost laughed.
The audacity was so complete it was almost artistic.
“Simon,” I said, “do you honestly believe I forced them to do my work? Have you compared my output to theirs?”
Simon sighed and leaned against his desk.
“I know who you are. I know you’re Edward Langford’s daughter, but HR doesn’t know, and the rest of the floor definitely doesn’t know. If I dismiss this complaint without an investigation, Trevor is threatening to go to the labor board and claim favoritism. He’s also saying you physically assaulted him yesterday by throwing your arm into his path while he was gesturing.”
“He shattered my mug and cut my arm,” I said flatly, rolling up my sleeve enough to show the bandage. “Half the floor saw it.”
“Half the floor saw an argument. A mug broke. You bled. Trevor’s version is that you were hysterical.”
He looked at me with open desperation.
“Please, Chloe. Just let the carpool go. Apologize, smooth things over, and let’s get back to work. I really don’t want your father breathing down my neck because his daughter is causing a civil war on my floor.”
I looked at him for a long moment.
He wanted the easiest path, not the right one.
“I am not apologizing to them,” I said at last. “And I am not smoothing this over. If HR wants an investigation, let them investigate. In fact, I welcome it.”
“Don’t be stubborn.”
“I’m going back to my desk.”
I stood up and walked out.
As I passed the break room, I saw Trevor, Brianna, and Lauren holding court for an audience of younger associates.
Trevor leaned against the counter with a coffee cup in hand, speaking loud enough for anyone nearby to hear.
“It’s disgusting,” he was saying. “Preying on people who are just trying to pay rent. She acts all sweet, but she’s a total sociopath. I practically had to defend myself yesterday when she came at me.”
“I heard she’s sleeping with the driver to get the car,” Brianna added, dropping her voice just low enough to make it sound like a secret. “That’s why she calls him a relative. It’s gross.”
A hot wave of fury climbed up my neck.
Insulting me was one thing.
Insulting James, a man who had driven my mother to the hospital the night she went into labor with me, was another.
I kept walking.
I went to my desk, put on my noise-canceling headphones, and worked through the rest of the day in silence.
By Friday, the office was divided.
Most people were against me.
Trevor, Brianna, and Lauren had spent the entire week assassinating my character. I ate lunch alone in my car. People stopped holding the elevator. Someone “accidentally” spilled coffee on my chair while I was in the restroom.
Through all of it, I remained perfectly calm.
I did my work.
I submitted my reports.
I smiled politely at anyone who met my eyes.
My silence unsettled them.
They wanted me to break. They wanted me to cry, rage, or quit. They wanted proof they had beaten the arrogant princess.
On Friday at 4:45 p.m., Trevor finally snapped.
He marched over to my cubicle with Brianna and Lauren beside him. The floor fell silent in anticipation.
“Hey,” Trevor said, leaning heavily on my partition. “HR called us in today. They said they’re reviewing our complaint. Looks like you’re in serious trouble on Monday, Chloe.”
I slowly removed my headphones.
“Is that so?”
“Yep,” Brianna said with a smirk. “Extortion is a major violation of the code of conduct. You should probably start packing your desk now. Save yourself the embarrassment.”
Lauren gave me her wide-eyed sympathy act.
“We really didn’t want it to end this way, Chloe. If you’d just been reasonable—”
“If I had just paid for your commute?” I asked, my voice carrying cleanly across the room.
Trevor dropped the fake civility at once.
“If you hadn’t been greedy, this wouldn’t be happening. You thought you were better than us because you had a shiny car. Now you’re going to be unemployed.”
I looked at the three of them.
They were glowing with smug satisfaction, so proud of a fortress built on lies.
“Monday should be very interesting,” I said calmly.
I picked up my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and looked Trevor directly in the eye.
“Enjoy your weekend, Trevor. And make sure you keep your receipts.”
He frowned.
“What?”
I smiled faintly.
“Nothing. Just a piece of advice. Have a great commute.”
Then I walked away and left them standing by my desk.