Your career in this firm ends the moment Arthur Davenport dies, Clara, my senior co-manager Marcus whispered, dropping a 200-page termination clause onto my desk.
I looked at Marcus Halloway—a man who had spent his career treating people like disposable assets, destroying lives from behind a polished desk without a second thought. His desperate offer was a final, pathetic attempt to buy his way out of consequences.
“My mother lost her home because men like you thought they could manipulate rules behind closed doors,” I said, my voice steady and cold, devoid of any emotion he could exploit. “You offered Arthur money, you offered his family money, and now you’re offering me money. It’s always about the money with you.”
“It’s three million dollars, Clara!” Marcus shouted, his fists slamming onto the mahogany desk, the empty scotch bottle rattling. “Take it and leave! You can’t beat me with paper! You can’t win this!”
“I don’t need to beat you, Marcus,” I said, reaching into my pocket and pulling out my phone. The screen displayed an active emergency line connection, a timer counting upwards. “I just needed you to admit to the forgery and the bribe on a recorded line.”
Marcus stared at the phone screen in sheer horror, his eyes fixing on the flashing number, the realization dawning on him. The color drained from his face entirely.
“You bitch,” he breathed, lunging forward, his hand outstretched to grab the phone and smash it.
I stepped back smoothly, anticipating his move. In one swift motion, I unlocked the office door and stepped out into the hallway, just as the distant, almost imperceptible elevator chimes rang. The game was over.
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