Chapter 3

With every word I spoke, Rachel’s face grew more twisted.

I had spent my entire lunch break digging into every public record and registry I could find.

Her vendor list was a minefield.

She clearly didn't expect me to uncover all their dirty secrets in a matter of hours.

Her eyes gleamed with malice.

"Avery, you're investigating me?"

"I am doing my job: conducting risk assessments for the account."

Suddenly, Rachel smiled.

There was zero warmth in that smile.

"Fine. Very good."

"Risk assessment, is it?"

She picked up the desk phone and dialed the accounting pool.

"Accounting? Listen closely."

"Starting right now, every single expense requisition related to the Gala must have my personal signature."

"Any disbursement without my sign-off is to be rejected immediately."

Hanging up the phone, she glared at me with pure spite.

"Let’s see how you book your precious 'Tier-1' vendors without a single dime from me, Avery."

She was cutting off my lifeline.

I walked out of Rachel’s office in stony silence.

Chloe rushed up to me, eyes filled with panic.

"Avery, I just tried to submit your travel reimbursement... Accounting told me your entire account has been frozen!"

I nodded, entirely unsurprised.

This was Rachel's petty revenge.

Not only had she frozen the project budget, but she had also blocked my personal expense claims.

That $2,300 train ticket was just her excuse to pull the trigger.

"I know."

Back at my desk, I immediately began dialing the premier vendors I had pre-vetted.

"Mr. Harris, regarding the venue booking for the Gala, we need to finalize the contract as soon as possible. Can we..."

The voice on the other end was polite, but unyielding.

"Ms. Clark, we’d love to work with your agency, of course."

"However, per standard protocol, we require a thirty-percent deposit upon signing."

"Mr. Evans, about the luxury shuttle fleet..."

"Avery, I can hold the contract for you, but without the security deposit clearing, I can't block off the fleet for your dates."

Every single call ended the exact same way.

They were ready to work with me, but money talked.

And right now, I couldn't get a single dollar approved.

Greg and Rachel were deliberately cornering me, forcing me to surrender and use their corrupt, cheap suppliers.

Staring at the spreadsheet of vendor contacts on my screen, a chill ran down my spine.

They were treating Marcus Ford's premier event like a playground game, gambling the entire agency’s future on a scam.

Six o'clock rolled around. One by one, our colleagues packed their bags and left.

Soon, I was the only person left under the fluorescent lights, facing an insurmountable wall.

My phone chimed. It was Chloe on SnapChat.

"Avery, look at the company WhatsApp group! NOW!"

I unlocked my phone and opened our company WhatsApp. A pinned notification tagging @Everyone leaped off the screen.

It was from Rachel.

[Notice: Due to personal reasons and poor management by Avery Clark of the Project Department, the preparation for the International Arts Gala has fallen severely behind schedule. To ensure seamless execution, General Manager Greg Miller will personally take over primary project management, with Avery acting in an assisting capacity. All employees are reminded to prioritize the company's collective interests at all times.]

The WhatsApp group erupted into deafening silence.

The colleagues who usually laughed with me during lunch breaks vanished.

Only two kiss-ass managers chimed in with corporate platitudes: "Thank you for stepping up, Mr. Miller!" and "We fully support leadership's decision!"

I had been thrown under the bus as a public scapegoat.

Every shred of blame had been pinned squarely on my shoulders.

I locked my phone and sat in the dark.

Fools always mistake silence for surrender.