Chapter 3

I clutched the flash drive in my hand.

Just one more day. Just hold on for one more day.

The sky was overcast on the day of the event.

The venue had been decorated with tacky "tropical paradise" props—it was as ridiculous as it was pathetic.

I carried a massive box of revealing bikinis to the backstage area.

The women gathered around, their faces torn between anxiety, dread, and bitter silence.

Taking a deep breath, I dumped the box out onto the table. Neon, skimpy bikinis spilled everywhere, dazzling and offensive.

"Chloe, is this..." Sarah's voice broke, her fingers clutching her clothes.

"Get out of here, you corporate puppet! We’d rather die than put those on!"

The room erupted with furious curses.

I didn't argue. Instead, I pulled a lighter from my pocket.

A flame flickered to life, catching the edge of the flimsy fabric.

Sarah gasped. "What are you doing?!"

Some gasped, hands over their mouths. Others stared in shock.

Tears spilled from Sarah's eyes, hitting the floor in silent drops.

Watching the fire consume the cheap cloth, I felt like I was watching Brad's vile smirk burn to ashes.

"Our bodies are not entertainment for a pervert!"

"What we wear, how we dance, or whether we perform at all is our choice. Screw the manager's orders!"

Emma was the first to speak up. "She's right! Let that creep rot in hell!"

A wave of support swept through the room. Head held high, every woman walked into the main hall wearing comfortable, professional outfits.

Brad's face fell instantly.

He puffed up like a ruffled rooster, his voice screeching through the microphone. "What the hell are you all wearing?! Where's the energy?!"

"The company threw this party for you, and this is how you repay us? You can't even follow basic dress code guidelines?!"

"You look like you're attending a damn funeral!"

He shoved his finger almost directly into their faces, spit flying.

"If you weren't women, I’d have fired every single one of you on the spot!"

Then he spun around, his murderous gaze locking onto me.

"Chloe Vance! Is this what you organized?!"

"Are these the swimsuits you picked?!"

"How completely incompetent can you be?!"

He hurled his fury at me, desperate to make me his scapegoat.

I didn't flinch. A cold smirk touched my lips.

"Director Evans, open your filthy eyes and look at the big screen."

My voice dripped with pure mockery.

The moment the flash drive plugged in, the trap closed.

"Brad Evans, you spy on your staff, you embezzle funds, and you harass female employees. The evidence is right here!"

CEO Sterling was sitting right in the front row. Brad was heading straight for prison.

I locked eyes with Brad, but instead of panicking, he wore an expression of tragic betrayal.

Was he in shock?

Suddenly, mutters erupted from the crowd behind me.

"Oh my god... Chloe is actually like that?"

I whipped my head around to look at the screen.

On the massive monitor, footage showed me creeping into Brad's office after hours, skillfully tampering with files on his desktop.

Then, an audio recording blasted through the speakers:

"Wire me fifty thousand dollars, or I'll ruin your life!"

It was my voice. Cold, extortionate, and greedy.

I froze as if struck by lightning.

How was that possible?!

CEO Victoria Sterling's brows drew together into a hard, dangerous line.

Her gaze sliced toward me like twin daggers.

Brad pointed at me with dramatic heartbreak, screaming to the crowd:

"I found out days ago that Chloe was blackmailing our female staff!"

"I set this whole thing up today just to expose her!"

He played the victim to perfection, his face twisted in righteous outrage.

"People like her belong behind bars!"

He glared at me, the smug triumph in his eyes nearly overflowing.

My entire body went numb with cold.

What went wrong?