The HR tribunal room smelled of polished wood and fear.
Julia sat at the end of a long glass table, three executives facing her like a firing squad. Their expressions were polite masks stretched over cruelty. Her palms were damp, but her voice—when she finally spoke—was steady.
“You’re accusing me of breaching confidentiality,” she said. “But what I did was tell the truth. Hughes Corp falsified internal audits. The man you’re calling a criminal tried to expose that.”
One of the executives leaned back, tapping a pen against the table. “Miss Bailey, you’re emotionally compromised. Everyone knows your... connection to Brandon Hughes.”
Julia’s jaw tightened. “My connection,” she said quietly, “is that I saw him do what none of you had the courage to—take responsibility.”
A ripple of whisp
