Chapter 2My Counterattack Against The Office Predator

I thought I'd misheard. I pulled off my face mask and turned my phone volume to maximum.

"Quinn, what exactly do you mean by that?"

On the other end, Quinn's voice carried the coldness of official business and obvious impatience.

"Trevor just submitted a sick leave note from City Hospital to the company, along with a diagnosis of severe depressive tendencies from the chief psychologist."

"He's filed a formal complaint with upper management, claiming you publicly subjected him to verbal abuse and psychological harassment in the conference room today, causing him extremely serious psychological trauma."

"Management held a meeting to discuss it. The leadership's decision is that for the greater good, you should voluntarily submit your resignation tomorrow. This looks better on your resume and minimizes the impact on the company."

I laughed in fury, anger surging to the top of my head.

"He faked illness to extort people -- the whole company saw it! Instead of firing that troublemaker, you're firing me, the victim?"

"Clara, don't be so naive!" Quinn's voice shot up an octave.

"The company isn't a court -- the company wants stability and profits! The company doesn't want to get dragged into your messy romantic drama!"

"Last month's dinner incident caused such an uproar that even several major clients came asking about the gossip. Do you know how much negative impact that had on the company's corporate image?"

"You young people dating, breaking up, getting back together -- normally the company doesn't interfere. But Trevor's medical records clearly show he has a history of allergies and arrhythmia. If something had really happened to him in the company today, who would take responsibility for the workplace injury? Could you handle that?"

Quinn paused, his tone taking on a naked threat.

"I'll only say this once. If you don't agree to resign voluntarily, the company will issue a formal termination notice tomorrow."

"When that happens, your resignation letter will clearly state 'terminated for suspected workplace sexual harassment and malicious bullying of colleagues.' You're still young -- you don't want to carry that kind of stain to job interviews at other companies, do you?"

I gripped my phone so tightly my knuckles turned white.

I didn't waste another word on this sycophantic manager, directly pressing the hang-up button.

After taking several deep breaths to force myself to calm down, I opened the company SnapChat group.

The group had completely exploded.

Trevor had posted an extremely affected selfie.

In the photo, he was lying in a hospital bed with an IV needle in his hand, connected to a drip, his chest wrapped with heart rate monitoring bands, his expression melancholic and broken.

The caption was even more nauseating:

[I always thought that if I was understanding enough, I could soften a stubborn heart. I never imagined that just because I rejected an irrational confession, I'd be publicly humiliated and denied life-saving help in front of the entire company. My chest still hurts. The doctor says I'm at risk for severe depression. I really don't know what to do anymore. Do men in the workplace really deserve to be bullied like this?]

What made it even more chilling was the long string of supportive, partisan comments below.

Harvey was the first to jump in: [Hang in there, Trevor! Clara really went too far this time! No matter how bitter you are about rejection, you can't joke around with someone's life! This is basically attempted murder!]

Another female colleague who was close to Trevor joined the pile-on: [Exactly! About last month's dinner -- maybe Clara really did force herself on Trevor while drunk. Trevor is usually so nice, always buying us afternoon tea. How could he possibly extort anyone?]

Someone even made a snide remark: [I could tell ages ago that Clara had designs on Trevor. At the last team building event, she deliberately wore the same color outfit as Trevor. The way she looked at him -- like she wanted to devour him whole.]

Looking at these comments that twisted the truth, I rolled my eyes dramatically.

The bigger the forest, the more kinds of birds you find. What a time to be alive!

Trying to use these underhanded tactics to force me to resign voluntarily and whitewash your fake peace?

Dream on!

The next morning at nine o'clock, I put on a full face of makeup, clicked my heels, and clocked in right on time at the company entrance.

As soon as I reached my workstation, I saw Trevor leaning against my desk holding a cup of coffee.

Seeing me appear, surprise flashed across his face first, then that disgusting smile of "I knew you couldn't stay away from me" spread across his features.

"Clara, you still came. I knew it -- those heartless things you said in the conference room yesterday were just to get my attention. You were just being contrary."

I looked at him coldly, as if looking at a pile of non-combustible garbage.

"Move. You're blocking me from breathing fresh air."

Not only did he not move, he actually leaned in closer, lowering his voice in what he probably thought was a charming tone:

"Alright, stop pretending. I know you're proud and would rather suffer than lose face. Yesterday you deliberately didn't save me because you wanted to test whether I care about you, right?"

"Let me tell you the truth -- I already talked to Quinn. I told him we're just a couple having a little spat, that I'm not pressing charges, and the company won't fire you."

He raised an eyebrow with a magnanimous expression. "How about that? So moved you could cry? As long as you be my girlfriend right now, I'll protect you at the company from now on."

I was genuinely shocked by this delusional man's mental gymnastics. Did he really think he was some kind of domineering CEO?

I laughed mockingly, loud enough for colleagues at several nearby workstations to hear clearly.

"Trevor, do you not only have heart problems, but brain stem atrophy as well?"

"Thanks so much to your whole family! Save your 'touching gestures' for when you're visiting your own grave."

"And stay away from me. That scumbag stench on you is too suffocating. Bad luck!"

Several colleagues who had been eavesdropping couldn't help but snicker out loud.

Trevor's face instantly flushed red, completely unable to save face.

He slammed the coffee cup on the desk and jabbed his finger at my nose, hissing viciously:

"Clara! Don't be so ungrateful! I'm telling you -- if you don't agree to be with me now, even if you strip naked and beg me on your knees later, I'll think you're too dirty!"

I didn't even lift an eyelid, simply pulled out a disinfectant wipe and vigorously cleaned the desk surface he'd just touched.

Just then, the internal messaging software on my computer started flashing.

Quinn sent a message: "Clara, come to my office. Now."