Chapter 3Drenched in Bleach and Blood

At her command, Derek and Monica lunged.

I fought back, twisting and kicking, which only infuriated Derek. He snatched the heavy shears from a desk, lunging blindly at my head. In the scuffle, the blades dragged down my cheek, leaving a hot, stinging line of blood.

The rest of the office scattered, pressing themselves against the cubicles, terrified of catching the crossfire. A few colleagues I thought were my friends quietly dialed building security, but when the guards arrived, Sloane waved them off with absolute aristocratic arrogance.

“I am Richard Caldwell’s daughter. I am disciplining a rogue employee. I assume full legal and financial liability for whatever happens here. Anyone who intervenes gets the exact same treatment!”

Sloane was using me to establish her absolute monarchy. And in the face of her father’s wealth, no one wanted to be a martyr.

But out of the corner of my eye, I saw a phone camera angled toward us. Emma, my newest intern—a quiet, bright girl I had been mentoring—was secretly recording. And I knew she had just dialed 911.

Derek and Monica were too high on the adrenaline of socially sanctioned violence to notice. They were drunk on the sudden power to destroy someone they had secretly envied for years. They had completely forgotten they were in a modern office building, not a fiefdom.

Derek grabbed my wrists, pulling a thick plastic zip-tie from his pocket—an IT supply—and savagely yanked it tight around my hands.

He kicked the back of my knees, forcing me down. When I tried to throw myself sideways to escape, Monica literally dropped her body weight onto my back, pinning my spine to the carpet.

The wind was knocked out of me. I thrashed wildly, gasping for air, but the physical weight of two adults was too much.

Sloane laughed. A bright, high, genuinely delighted sound.

I saw tears spilling down Emma’s face in the background. Even the security guards looked physically sick, turning their heads away.

But Sloane was thriving.

“Valerie Hayes has shown a blatant disregard for corporate policy, threatened management, and attempted to steal proprietary contracts,” Sloane announced to the room, her tone mimicking a corporate memo crossed with a sadistic queen. “She’s a toxic element. We need a written confession.”

Sloane squatted down, looking at my bleeding cheek with revulsion, making sure not to get too close.

“I want her to write: ‘I, Valerie Hayes, am a repulsive, parasitic bitch. I promise to resign immediately, forfeit all severance, and never pollute Sloane Caldwell’s sight again.’ How does that sound, guys?”