Chapter 2The Abused Intern Is The Heiress

Three days later, a notification popped up on our team’s Slack channel.

"Tina Davis: Emergency meeting at 2:00 PM in Conference Room B. Everyone must attend. No exceptions."

I stared at the glowing blue text, a heavy, uneasy feeling settling in my stomach.

When I walked into the conference room at two, the atmosphere was already thick with tension. Everyone was seated, their faces unusually grim.

Tina stood at the head of the room, her arms crossed, her expression cast in stone.

"We are here for one reason today," she said, slamming a heavy black binder onto the table. "The proprietary client database for Vanguard Solutions has been leaked."

A collective murmur rippled through the room.

"Only three people had access to this file over the past week," Tina continued, her eyes scanning the room before locking onto me. "Myself, Oliver—who has already been reassigned to the logistics warehouse—and Fiona."

My heart did a sudden, violent flip, but I kept my voice calm. "I was never given access to the client database. I didn't even have the shared drive permissions."

"You didn't?" Tina sneered. "The security logs show that the file was transferred from my terminal to your credentials last Friday at exactly 3:00 PM."

"I never accepted any transfer, and I certainly never opened it."

"Is that so?" Tina turned her head slightly, nodding toward one of her close associates, Jack.

Without a word, Jack stood up, walked out of the conference room, and went straight to my cubicle.

"Wait—what do you think you’re doing?" I stood up to follow him, but by the time I reached the doorway, Jack was already pulling open my desk drawers.

"Found it," Jack called out, holding up a freshly printed document.

He walked back into the room and handed the sheets to Tina. She took them, a slow, triumphant grin spreading across her face.

"Caught red-handed," she said, holding the papers up for the entire room to see. "The Vanguard database. Tucked neatly right inside Fiona’s desk."

My mind went entirely blank. I had never seen those printed sheets in my life.

"That's not mine. Someone put that there."

"Oh, really? It just crawled into your drawer?" Tina walked over to me, her index finger almost touching my nose. "We found the stolen files in your desk, Fiona. You're a thief, plain and simple."

The room was deathly quiet. I looked around, searching for a single sympathetic face, but everyone was staring at their laps, suddenly fascinated by the wood grain of the table.

"This was planted," I insisted.

"Who planted it? Me?" Tina scoffed, her voice dripping with condescension. "If you're going to accuse someone of framing you, Fiona, you’d better have proof."

I didn't have proof. Not yet.

Seeing my hesitation, Tina pulled a pre-written document from her binder and threw it onto the table in front of me.

"This is a formal admission of guilt and a written apology. You are going to sign it, and you are going to read it aloud at the next department-wide meeting."

I looked down at the paper, then pushed it right back toward her. "I'm not signing a lie."

Tina slammed her hand on the table. "You don't want to sign? Fine. I’ll mark you down for gross misconduct. Your pay for the month is docked, and I’m failing your internship immediately."

She leaned in, her eyes gleaming with malice. "No internship credits means you don't graduate next month. Good luck finding another firm willing to take on a thief."

I kept my mouth shut, my jaw clamped tight. I had wanted a normal, quiet internship to prove I could do the work without my family's name. But if she was going to push me to the edge, she was going to find out exactly what lay beneath the surface.

Just then, the heavy glass door swung open, and Reynold walked in, carrying a paper cup. "What’s the commotion?"

Tina’s demeanor shifted instantly. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with a perfectly rehearsed expression of distress and disappointment.

"Reynold, I’m so sorry to bring this to you, but we caught Fiona with the Vanguard client files. I gave her the option to write an apology, but she's refusing to take responsibility."

Reynold looked at me, his eyes cold and clinical. He took a slow sip of his coffee.

"Tina is your direct manager, Fiona. If she has identified a breach of conduct, there's no room for debate here." He adjusted his cuffs. "An intern stealing proprietary files is a serious offense. Writing the apology is a grace period you don't deserve. Don't be foolish."

"Reynold, I didn't take the file," I said, looking him dead in the eye. "If you look at the login timestamps—"

"I've heard enough," Reynold interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. "Write the apology, or pack your things. I will personally sign off on your termination. And trust me, once Herman Enterprises blacklists you, you won't even get a job answering phones in this city."

I slowly let go of the folder in my hands, my voice cold. "I won't write a confession for something I didn't do."

Reynold’s face flushed with anger. "Fine! You want to play tough? You're suspended without pay, effective immediately, and your internship is done."