Chapter 3
1416 Words
The minute Holly left my office, I felt like the room shrank around me. My chest tightened, my fingers trembled, and my stomach twisted into knots. The photos on the floor stared back at me—ghosts of a past I didn’t ask to relive.
But I forced myself to breathe. Slow. Steady.
I picked up one photo.
Then another.
And another.
Some were bent, some torn, as if whoever printed them had handled them roughly. I tried not to imagine someone from the office crouching on my floor, tossing them around like it was a game.
By the time I’d gathered half of them, my head throbbed. I needed water. Or air. Or a time machine to skip the entire day.
I stood up, ready to slip out quietly to the break room—but the moment I opened my office door, I regretted it instantly.
Every pair of eyes turned to me. Judging. Whispering. Mocking.
People shuffled papers or stared at their screens, pretending to be busy. But their whispers slipped through anyway.
“—did you see—”
“—all over the place—”
“—so embarrassing—”
“Was that really him in—”
“I told you they broke up, but I didn’t know it got that bad—”
I swallowed hard and kept walking, my steps stiff and robotic. Staring at the carpet felt safer. The hallway seemed endless. I tried to ignore the whispers—until I couldn’t anymore.
“What the f**k is your problem?” I snapped under my breath, but loud enough that I knew they heard.
“If you’ve got something to say, say it to me!”
The hallway fell silent. For a second, I thought maybe I’d shocked them. Maybe they didn’t expect me to actually fight back.
Just as I turned the corner toward the break room, someone called out behind me.
“Liam? HR wants to see you.”
I froze.
Slowly, I turned to the intern standing there—bright green ID badge, nervous energy, eyes full of apology.
“Now?” I asked.
He nodded. “They said immediately.”
My heart dropped straight to my stomach.
HR’s office felt colder than the hallway. The gentle hum of the AC was the only sound as I stepped inside, trying to steady my breathing.
Two people sat at a small round table—Ms. Grant, the HR manager, and Daniel, the assistant manager. Both wore stiff expressions. A folder sat on the table between them.
My pictures were in that folder. I could feel it in my bones.
“Please sit,” Ms. Grant said, clasping her hands.
I sat.
Daniel cleared his throat. “Liam… we’ve received complaints this morning.”
I blinked. “Complaints? About what?”
They exchanged a look. Then Ms. Grant slid the folder toward me. “About these.”
I hesitated before opening it. When I finally did, I recoiled.
Not only were the photos from my office inside, but also several copies of the ones Holly mentioned on the board earlier. Stolen. Printed. Distributed. Humiliation in a neat stack.
I closed the folder slowly. “These were put in my office without my permission. Someone broke into—”
Ms. Grant raised a hand. “We understand your distress, Liam. But displaying intimate content on company property violates our professionalism guidelines.”
My jaw dropped. “Displayed? I didn’t display anything!”
Daniel tapped his pen on the table. “Several employees claim they saw intimate images of you and your partner in public workspaces.”
“Because someone put them there!” I snapped. “How am I the one being blamed?”
Ms. Grant sighed like I was the problem. “It is your responsibility to ensure your personal life does not interfere with the workplace environment.”
I stared at her, stunned. “My personal life? I was framed.”
“We’re not accusing you of deliberately posting them,” Daniel said carefully, “but regardless of how they appeared, the images involve you. That places liability on the company.”
Heat rushed to my face. My fist clenched before I even realized it. “So you’re saying it’s my fault someone invaded my privacy?” I asked, jaw tight.
Neither of them answered directly.
Instead, Ms. Grant asked, “We need to understand the situation clearly. Were you in a relationship with the individual shown in these photos?”
“Yes,” I said stiffly.
“And this breakup occurred recently?”
My throat tightened. “A few months ago.”
Her brows lifted. “Is there any possibility he is responsible for distributing these images?”
I hesitated. “I… don’t think so. We haven’t spoken in months.”
She scribbled something. “So no suspect?”
I clenched my fists. “I didn’t say that. I said it wasn’t him.”
Daniel leaned forward, fingers interlocked. “We need you to be honest with us, Liam. Personal conflicts—especially romantic ones—often lead to situations like this. If someone is targeting you, we have to know.”
Frustration boiled inside me. “I don’t know who did it because I wasn’t even here yet when it happened!”
Ms. Grant and Daniel exchanged another silent look. Her expression hardened.
“Until the investigation concludes,” she said, tone clipped, “we need you to sign a temporary compliance form.”
“Compliance?” I echoed.
Daniel slid a document toward me.
One glance at the title made my blood run cold.
Workplace Conduct Warning Notice.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I whispered.
“This is standard procedure,” Ms. Grant said. “If another incident occurs before the matter is resolved, we’ll have no choice but to escalate.”
“Escalate?” My voice cracked. “To what?”
“Suspension,” she said.
“Or termination,” Daniel added casually.
My stomach twisted violently. “You’re threatening to fire me.”
“We are outlining the consequences,” Ms. Grant said calmly, “to encourage professionalism.”
Right. Professionalism.
Because nothing screams professionalism like punishing the victim.
A bitter laugh escaped me. “Unbelievable.”
Ms. Grant’s eyes narrowed. “Is there a problem, Liam?”
“Yeah,” I said, leaning forward. “The problem is that someone invaded my privacy, printed personal photos, scattered them around the office—and instead of helping me, you’re treating me like the criminal.”
Daniel sighed, rubbing his temples. “Please understand, this is a delicate situation.”
“Not for me,” I snapped. “For you. You’re more worried about paperwork than the fact that someone in this company is harassing me.”
Silence.
Ms. Grant pushed her glasses up. “Sign the warning, Liam. Then you may go.”
My hand trembled as I picked up the pen. Part of me wanted to throw it at the wall. Another part knew refusing would make things worse.
I signed.
The moment the ink hit the page, something inside me cracked. I felt exposed. Violated. Betrayed.
Ms. Grant took the document, nodded once, and dismissed me with a polite, “We hope this matter resolves smoothly.”
I didn’t answer.
I left before I said something that would get me fired.
The hallway felt even worse on the way back.
People stared. Whispered. Pretended to work. Every breath scraped against my ribs.
When I reached my office, I shut the door quietly—then locked it.
My knees buckled the second I leaned against the door.
I slid down to the floor, pressing my hands to my face, breathing shakily.
HR threatened to fire me.
The company blamed me.
Someone in the office hated me enough to humiliate me like this.
And what was I supposed to do? Sit here and accept it?
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
Elena.
Lunch? I’m craving shawarma and gossip. Come rescue me from pregnancy cravings before I cry.
A weak laugh escaped me—then turned into a broken choke.
I wiped my face with my sleeve and typed back:
You won’t believe what happened. Can I come now?
Her reply came instantly.
Always. Come. Right. Now.
I stood, trying to steady myself.
Today, I needed Elena more than ever.
Because if one more thing went wrong…
I didn’t know if I could hold myself together much longer.
- Writer
