My Executive Best Friend Framed a Deceased Worker's Son to Hide Corporate Toxins — Until an Old Key in a Smashed Birdhouse Uncovered an Expired Lease Clause That Ruined Us Both
The next morning, the corporate lobby was a usual blur of crisp suits and hurried footsteps. But something felt different.
The security guard at the desk, usually quick with a “Morning, Arthur,” merely nodded, his gaze dropping to his monitor.
I felt a subtle shift in the air, a chill that had nothing to do with the Chicago November.
Walking through the hallways towards my office, I passed several members of the night cleaning crew. They averted their eyes, clutching their buckets and mops closer as they moved quickly past.
No greetings. No casual nods. Just silence.
It was in the breakroom that the explanation hit me like a cold front. A fresh, stark white memo was taped prominently to the bulletin board, stark against the faded employee notices.
My name, Arthur Pendelton, stood out in bold letters.
I ripped it down, my fingers trembling slightly. It was from Marcus’s office, stamped with the corporate seal.
“Internal Safety Advisory,” the header read. “Regarding: Recent Incidents of Disorientation and Unauthorized Access.”
My eyes scanned the carefully worded paragraphs. It expressed “deep concern for Arthur Pendelton’s cognitive health and apparent disorientation during recent night shifts.” It suggested “temporary re-assignment pending further evaluation” and warned against “approaching Mr. Pendelton during periods of observed confusion.”
A cold, hard knot formed in my stomach. Dementia. He was trying to frame me as mentally unstable.
This wasn’t just about protecting Julian anymore. This was about systematically isolating me, turning the entire building against me.
I crumpled the memo in my hand, the crisp paper crinkling loudly in the quiet room. My maintenance team, usually gathered here for morning coffee, was scattered.
I spotted Mark, a senior technician I’d worked with for years in municipal maintenance. He was pouring a cup of coffee, his back to me.
“Mark,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Did you see this?”
He stiffened, his shoulders tensing. He didn’t turn around.
“Chief,” he mumbled, his voice uncharacteristically low. “Just trying to get through my shift.”
“Mark, this isn’t true,” I pressed, stepping closer. “Marcus is lying.”
He finally turned, his eyes darting away from mine, settling instead on the empty coffee pot. “Look, Arthur, maybe you should just… take it easy, alright? Take some time off.”
He grabbed his coffee and walked away without another word, leaving me standing alone.
The others followed suit. A few averted their gazes as they hurried out. Others simply picked up their things and left the room, leaving their half-finished coffees on the counter.
My own crew. People I had joked with, shared stories with, fixed things with. They believed him.
Or maybe, they were just too scared not to.
The isolation was crushing. I felt like a ghost, invisible and unheard.
“Leo,” I muttered, his name a desperate lifeline. He would understand. He was also an outsider.
I hurried to the apprentice workstation, but his desk was empty. His toolbox was gone.
A junior admin assistant passed by, her eyes wide. “Mr. Brooks? He was called to HR, Mr. Pendelton. Just a few minutes ago.”
My heart sank. Marcus wasn’t just isolating me; he was dismantling everything around me. And Leo was next.
More Stories
+ There are no comments
Add yours