After the humiliations of the previous day, your mind races with a plan. Stacy, of all people, had managed to climb above you in the office hierarchy. The very thought makes your blood boil. Every smug smile she flashes in your direction only deepens the frustration. Something had to be done. You had to knock her back down.
The idea comes to you early in the day, while you’re watching Stacy chat innocently at her desk. You need to frame her. Nothing too drastic, just something embarrassing, something that would make her look incompetent or desperate in front of everyone. Your gaze lingers on her purse. The lipstick—her favorite shade—sits right there on the desk. An idea sparks.
You wait for the perfect moment. Stacy leaves for lunch, the office now quieter, with only a few people scattered around. Perfect timing. Glancing around to make sure no one's watching, you quickly make your way over to her desk. Her belongings sit neatly in place, and your heart pounds as you fumble through her things, finally grabbing the lipstick. The plan was simple: hide it somewhere inappropriate, like the men's restroom, and let it be found. The rumors would spread, the humiliation would be complete.
As you’re about to slip it into your pocket, a sharp, commanding voice freezes you in place.
"Tom. What the hell do you think you’re doing?"
Your heart stops, and the lipstick falls from your hand, clattering onto the floor. Slowly, you turn, and there she is—Courtney, the head of the office, standing just a few feet away, arms crossed, her sharp brown eyes locking onto you like a predator sizing up its prey. Dressed in a tight blazer and skirt, her petite frame exudes authority, her heels clicking menacingly as she steps closer.
"Well?" she demands, her voice low but dangerous. "Explain yourself."
Your mind goes blank, panic setting in as you scramble for an excuse. You can feel your face flushing as the office begins to quiet down, heads turning in your direction. They can sense the drama. You stand there, frozen, as Courtney closes the distance between you two. Her heels—tall, black stilettos—make her seem even more intimidating as they click with each step. You can’t help but glance at them, a reflex now, but even that feels like another layer of shame.
"Going through Stacy’s things? Really, Tom?" Her voice rises, drawing more attention. Whispers are starting, and you can feel the eyes of your coworkers boring into you.
"I wasn’t—" you start, trying to find a way out, but Courtney cuts you off with a derisive laugh.
"Don’t even bother lying. I saw you," she snaps, her voice dripping with disdain. "What were you planning? Trying to embarrass her? Sabotage her? How pathetic."
Your chest tightens. Stacy’s footsteps echo behind you as she returns, stopping dead in her tracks when she sees the scene unfolding. Her face is a mix of confusion and growing anger. You glance around the office; Olivia, Jess, Amber, and even Scarlett are watching, and you can see the anticipation in their eyes. They’re ready to see you squirm.
Courtney steps closer, leaning in so that only you can hear her next words. "You're already at the bottom, Tom. You really think pulling something like this is going to help you climb back up?"
Her voice carries through the room, and now everyone is listening. The pressure mounts as more people gather around, whispering, watching, waiting for the final blow.
"Admit it," Courtney demands, her tone cold and unyielding. "You were trying to frame Stacy, weren’t you?"
You feel the blood drain from your face, your mind racing for an escape. There’s none. The stares, the whispers, the sheer weight of humiliation bear down on you. Courtney’s eyes pierce through you, daring you to lie again. Behind her, Stacy crosses her arms, her lips tight with fury, waiting for your response.
Everyone is waiting.
Do you admit the truth? Or try to salvage whatever shred of dignity you have left? The decision is hanging in the air, the tension unbearable, as you realize—there’s no way out of this without facing the consequences.
You swallow hard, the entire office watching, expecting you to break.
What will you say?
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